A Secret of the Soul (Amish Secrets--Book 6)

by J. E. B. Spredemann

  “Well, you don’t have to on account of me.”

  “Trust me. I’ll enjoy the food much better after a shower, and you’ll enjoy the company better.” He laughed and gestured for her to enter. “Enter at your own risk. I didn’t expect company, as you’ll soon discover.”

  “That’s not a problem. You saw my place. I hadn’t been expecting company either. I’ll just snoop around your house while you’re in the shower.” He deduced by her smile that she was teasing.

  “Be my guest. I have nothing to hide.”

  Her brow quirked up. “Nothing?”

  He shook his head.

  “I thought everybody had something to hide.” Her eyes danced in curiosity.

  Elam found himself being reeled in by her warm caramel gaze. Each time he saw her, his attraction seemed to grow. “If I think of something, I’ll be sure not to let you know,” he jested.

  ~

  The shower felt great, although he was certain he finished in record time. He didn’t want to leave Megan alone for too long, although she’d promised to keep herself busy setting the table. The food was in a slow cooker, so she hadn’t needed to warm it up. His mouth watered just thinking about it.

  He walked toward the dining room, where Megan was just filling two glasses with water.

  “Wow! You clean up nice.”

  Her words brought a rush of heat to his ears. He looked down at his jeans and t-shirt, his typical post-shower attire. “Thanks.”

  “Wet hair looks really good on you, I must say.”

  He’d attempted to towel dry his hair, but apparently he hadn’t done a good job. “Ach, I should have combed it.”

  “Oh, no. Not everyone can wear the messed up look, but you definitely can.” Was she flirting with him?

  “I can?”

  “Yes.” She smiled and gestured toward the table. “You hungry?”

  He eyed the meal she’d prepared. Not just chicken and dumplings, but corn bread muffins and fried okra too. This woman was amazing. “Starving. Everything looks great.”

  “Would you like to pray?”

  “Out loud?”

  She nodded.

  “I can, but I’m not sure if it will come out right. When I pray, it’s usually in Pennsylvania Dutch. I can try in English, though.”

  “Have you never prayed in English?”

  All of a sudden, he felt nervous about praying. “No. Never. So don’t laugh.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.”

  “Okay.” He bowed his head and clasped his hands in his lap. “God, thank you for Megan bringing this food over. Please bless it and use our hands to serve you.” He looked up and realized she was waiting for him to continue. “Uh, amen.”

  Her head lifted and she smiled.

  “I’m not sure that came out right.”

  “It was perfect.” She offered Elam the serving spoon. “Dig in.”

  He did as suggested and helped himself to a decent helping of each dish, allowing her to do the same. When he took a bite of the chicken and dumplings, the flavor exploded in his mouth.

  She watched him eat, but didn’t touch her own. It seemed Megan couldn’t enjoy her food properly if her guests weren’t satisfied. Her gaze was expectant.

  “It’s delicious. Really.” He took a forkful of the fried okra, then bit into his cornbread muffin.

  Megan finally took a bite of her dinner as well. She shrugged. “I guess it’s pretty good.”

  Elam shook his head. “No, it’s better than pretty good. Cracker Barrel is lucky you don’t have a restaurant next to them, otherwise you’d steal all their customers.”

  Megan’s smile stretched wide across her face. “Okay, that’s a bit of a stretch. I don’t think Cracker Barrel’s customers are going anywhere.” She laughed.

  Elam’s heart gladdened to see her happy while in his company. “I mean it. You are a wonderful cook.” He chuckled. “I’d belch to prove it, but Rosanna Zook informed me that’s not a proper thing to do among the Englisch.”

  “Oh, is that what you’d do at home in your Amish community?” She laughed.

  “Yep. And if anyone ever said anything, we’d reply, ‘It ain’t bad manners, just good eatin’!’” He laughed, recalling the memory.

  “And your mother didn’t mind?”

  He shrugged. “Not that I know of. Daed did it all the time. Still does, as far as I know.”

  “It’s interesting how different cultures determine what’s acceptable social behavior and what’s not.”

  “Yeah, when you’re used to doing things a certain way and then you jump into another culture, it’s almost like living in a whole nother world. It can be quite shocking. Could you imagine becoming Amish?”

  “No, not at all. I mean, I’m sure I could if I was forced to but I would never join willingly.”

  “I totally understand. If I ever went back, I think it would be really difficult. Yet, at the same time, I would regain some things that I’ve lost. Like sharing a meal with my family.”

  “So, you’re not even allowed to share a meal with them?”

  “If I still lived under their roof as a shunned man, I’d have to eat at a separate table apart from the family.”

  “So, it would be like you’re in ‘timeout’?”

  His brow shot up. “Timeout?”

  “When children misbehave or disobey, a lot of parents put their children in ‘timeout.’ They have to sit alone by themselves and they don’t get to play with the other children for a certain period of time.”

  “I believe in disciplining children when they disobey. If I didn’t obey my daed, I got a spanking. I thought twice about disobeying the next time because I didn’t like having a sore bottom. I couldn’t imagine a ‘timeout’ would have persuaded me to obey. It just doesn’t have the same motivational force. You know what I mean?” He laughed.

  “Yeah, we got spanked too. But when I watch the children in nursery, I’m not allowed to spank someone else’s child. ‘Timeout’ is our only option or we could call the parents in and have them take care of their child.”

  “Yeah, I guess eating alone would be similar to a ‘timeout’ then.” He shrugged. “But since I’ve left, I don’t even enjoy that privilege. When I visit, they meet me at the door and we talk outside.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh my goodness, are you serious? I had no idea the Amish were that strict.”

  “Oh, they’re not all like that. Each community lives by their own rules and standards, often passed down from previous generations. As a matter of fact, there’s one district I know of where the Amish father lives with the shunned daughter and son-in-law. I don’t think they even have any restrictions as far as eating together or not receiving money from the shunned member’s hand—none of that. You probably wouldn’t even know they were shunned unless someone pointed it out.”

  “Then what would the purpose of the shunning be?”

  “Beats me. But I sure would like to have that kind of shunning.” He looked down at his food that was most likely cold by now. “We should probably finish our supper, yeah?”

  Megan laughed. “Probably. Would you like me to warm that up for you again?”

  “No, thanks. I’m sure it’s just as good either way.” He smiled and dug into the remainder of his meal.

  It was still delicious, but his mind wandered back to his folks’ home. Back to a time when they would all sit together and share a meal. Back to when life had been devoid of the strife his shunning had caused.

  If only things could’ve been different.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Okay. The food is put away and the dishes are done. Time for your dance lesson.” Megan grinned.

  Elam swallowed. “Dance lesson?”

  “Yes. Remember I told you that I teach dance?”

  “Ah, yes, dancing with the balls.”

  Megan laughed, but corrected him. “Ballroom dancing.” She looked around, no doubt surveying his house for a suitable dance floor. “I thi
nk your living room will do.”

  “I’m not sure about this.”

  “Elam, there’s no need to be nervous. You’ll do just fine.” She waved him over to where she stood in the middle of his living room. Thankfully, it was a decent size for his small house. “Come on.”

  Apparently, there was no way of getting out of this without hurting her feelings, and that was the last thing he desired to do. He reluctantly joined Megan on the ‘dance floor.’

  “Okay. First of all, I want you to take a deep breath and relax. Have a seat.” She smiled and waited for him to do as told.

  He watched as she transformed into teacher mode, slowly pacing back and forth in front of him. “Now, dancing is a lot like a marriage. The man leads, while keeping in time with the music, and the woman follows. If any of these parts are neglected or not taken seriously, the dance becomes awkward and off-beat. It’s not beautiful anymore, the way it was intended to be. However, if the man listens to the music—I liken the music to God—and follows the direction of the music, then he will lead his partner with confidence and they won’t misstep. When the woman follows his confident leadership, the couple will glide across the floor in elegance. This brings honor to the song and to those dancing to it.”

  Elam smiled, enjoying Megan’s explanation. He hadn’t expected to get a spiritual lesson along with his dance lesson.

  “Before we begin, I want to go over your part so that you know what to do.” Her eyes met his. “Now watch me because this is what you’ll be doing when we’re dancing together.”

  He nodded and tried to keep a straight face. If only his siblings could see him now. He’d be teased for sure and for certain.

  “You will lead with your left foot. When you move your left foot forward, my right foot will go back, like this.” She demonstrated the male step. “This will be you.”

  Next, she demonstrated her own step backwards. “This is me. Got it?”

  He nodded. “I think so. What if I go too fast and I step on your foot?”

  Megan lifted a ‘your innocence is so adorable’ smile. “Come here, let me show you something.”

  He hopped up and sauntered to where she stood in the middle of his living room.

  “Now, get that silly grin off your face. This is serious.”

  He saluted her and tried not to laugh.

  “Elam!” She shook her head and stepped close. No doubt he was testing her patience, but he could tell she did her best not to smile. “Grasp my left hand with your right one and hold it at about shoulder height.”

  He did as told and she adjusted it accordingly.

  “Okay, now put the palm of your left hand on my right shoulder blade.” She placed her right hand on his arm. “Okay, great.”

  “This feels a little awkward.” He noticed how close their bodies were and sweat beaded on his forehead.

  “Relax, Elam.”

  He chuckled. “It’s hard to with you being this close to me.”

  “Men.” She smiled and shook her head. “Okay, now look down at where your feet are and notice where mine are. Now step forward with your left foot.”

  He did as told again and she stepped back at the same time.

  “See? It’s almost like we’re on a different track. Since my leg is on the inside and yours is on the outside, it’s impossible for you to step on my foot.”

  “Now it makes more sense.”

  “And now you’ve completed your first step. Let’s try it again.”

  After they’d practiced a few times, he finally felt comfortable. She even played a song from her cell phone and he finally saw how the steps came together with the music. When the lesson was finally over, they both laughed. He didn’t know whether it was from relief or because they’d enjoyed being in each other’s company. Either way, they both agreed they had fun—in spite of his antics.

  He still held her close. “I think I might want to kiss you.”

  She tucked part of her bottom lip under her teeth and smiled shyly. “You do?” He read the expectation in her mien and she didn’t protest, so he took that as permission to do so.

  He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers, and leaned down until his lips met hers and their eyes closed. He began tentatively at first, then pulled her closer, his hands entangled with her hair. The kiss deepened and he dropped his hand to her waist drawing her form near until it molded to his. He’d never been this close to any woman, not even Julianna. The feeling was wonderful, but he knew they must stop or they’d soon be doing something they shouldn’t. He forced himself to break away.

  They were both out of breath, but their mutual attraction won out. He pulled her close once again and continued the kiss, this time pulling her into his lap on the sofa. His lips left hers and he felt her breath hitch as his kiss slowly trailed the delicate skin of her neck then returned to her lips with intensified passion. He desired more. Much more.

  “Elam?” Megan said between kisses. “We can’t do this.”

  “I know.” He groaned in frustration and forced himself away again.

  This time, Megan stood up and combed her fingers through her hair.

  Elam stared at her feminine form and his desire for her only increased. His arms ached to pull her close and hold her again. He stepped near.

  “I should probably go now.” She spoke the words, but stood in place.

  Elam frowned, then caressed her face. “I know, but I don’t want you to.”

  She searched his eyes. Did she want the same thing? “You know I can’t stay here with you.”

  He nodded. “Jah, you’re right. It’s late. You should probably go.”

  “Okay.” Her disenchanted gaze met his frown. “You’re not upset, are you?”

  “Just at myself. I shouldn’t have...” He shook his head and sighed.

  “Shouldn’t have what?”

  He eyed her slightly swollen lips. “Kissed you too much. It was unwise.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry. You cannot help being beautiful.”

  “You think I’m beautiful, Elam?” She sounded surprised, and Elam wondered if nobody had told her before. Wasn’t vanity the Englisch way?

  He nodded. “Very much so.”

  “Thank you for saying that. I’ve never really considered myself beautiful. Just okay, I guess.”

  “No one has told you this?”

  “No, never. You’re the first.” She shook her head. “Not that it matters a whole lot. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right?”

  Elam raised a brow.

  “You’ve never heard that expression?”

  “No.”

  “It just basically means that each person sees beauty in their own way. What might be the most beautiful thing in the world to one person, could be something someone else thinks is unattractive.”

  “I see.”

  She put distance between them by moving to the kitchen and gathering the things she’d brought.

  “I’ll carry that for you,” he offered, relieving her of the slow cooker.

  They walked through the door and out to her car. He opened the door for her, and she placed her purse and other items inside.

  “You can set that on the floorboard in the back,” she suggested.

  “Thank you for bringing dinner.” He reached over and tucked her hair behind her ear.

  She shrugged. “Well, we both had to eat so, why not? Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

  Elam grinned. “I’d like that.”

  They stared at each other in silence for probably a full minute, and he wondered what she was thinking. He knew what he was thinking—things only a married man should be dwelling on. And he wasn’t anywhere near the marrying stage with Megan, so he’d better take a step back before he let things get out of hand.

  He leaned forward and briefly kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, Megan.”

  She slid into her car, closed the door, and turned over the ignition. Elam watched her pull away from th
e curb, many thoughts swirling in his mind. The main one being what it would be like to be married to Megan.

  For the life of him, he just couldn’t picture the scenario. Megan was a wonderful girl—she was sweet, beautiful, kind, a great cook. So what was his problem? Was it because she was Englisch? That had to be it. He’d never pictured himself married to an Englisch girl, not once in all the years he’d been away from the Amish. The only one he’d ever seen himself with was Julianna, but he knew that was now impossible.

  He had to give Julie up if he ever hoped to move on, because right now he was stuck at the top of an emotional rollercoaster. At any moment, it could come barreling down.

  But he had no clue how to give her up—how to let her go.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “What do you think of Megan?” Elam turned from the horse he’d been brushing down and pinned his gaze on Zachariah.

  Zach’s brow rose. “She seems really nice.”

  “Do you think we make a good match? Could you see us married?”

  He pet the mare in front of him and gently placed her harness on. “I don’t know, Elam. That’s your call to make.”

  “You don’t think so.” He frowned.

  “No, I didn’t say that. It’s just, I don’t know. Marriage is a lifelong commitment. Englischers are so different, you know what I mean? They don’t get a lot of Amish things because they’ve never lived it. They tend to be a lot more sensitive about things.” Zach stared at him as though contemplating something. “How do you think your folks would react if you took her home to meet them?”

  Elam shook his head. “I can’t imagine. With her short hair…” He didn’t even want to think about that conversation.

  “Jah.” Zach nodded in understanding. “Do you and Megan clash at all?”

  “She teaches dancing.”

  “Dancing? Like ballet?”

  “All kinds of dancing.”

  “And this bothers you?”

  Elam shrugged, recalling the last time they’d danced together. “Not really. It’s just…different.”

  “So, has she taught you to dance?”