MEN OF LANCASTER COUNTY 01: The Amish Groom

by Mindy Starns Clark

  We arrived at Liz’s car and took off our flip-flops to bang the sand out of them.

  “I bet you’re expecting to hear from your girlfriend.”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. I missed her call on Saturday, so she’s trying again today. At one o’clock my time.”

  We got into the car, which was warm inside from being closed up.

  “What’s she like?” Lark asked as she clicked her seat belt.

  I followed suit and started the car. “She’s smart and pretty and isn’t afraid to speak her mind. We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

  “How long have you been more than friends?”

  I started to pull out of the parking lot. “I don’t know. Probably since I was about seventeen.”

  “Holy cow. That’s, what, six years? You guys have been dating for six years?”

  “I guess we have.”

  “So why is she still just your girlfriend? Why don’t you marry her?”

  “It’s complicated,” I said, repeating the word I’d used with my dad. Except unlike the conversation I had with him, Lark didn’t interrupt as I continued. “Rachel is already a member of the church. I’m not yet.”

  “You can’t marry her unless you’re a member?”

  “It’s more that she can’t marry me unless I’m a member.”

  “And you’re not,” she said, echoing my words. “How come?”

  “Membership isn’t a decision to be made lightly, especially for me.”

  “Why especially for you?”

  “Because I’m not like anyone else in my district. Every other Amish person I know was born into an Amish family and has an Amish mother and father. It’s different for me.”

  “I see.” She was thoughtful for a moment. “So how long can you wait to decide?”

  I pulled into a lane of fast-moving cars and someone honked at me. “Most Amish people my age have already decided. I really can’t put it off much longer.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I am here hoping to figure that out. I need to know which world I belong in. I am either Amish all the way to my core or I’m not.”

  “But if…if you find you belong to this world out here, that means you and Rachel can’t…” Lark didn’t finish her thought.

  “Yes. It means I can’t marry her.”

  We were quiet for a moment as I drove.

  “That’s why you are so interested in your mother, isn’t it? She didn’t become a member.”

  “No, she didn’t.”

  “Instead she married your dad, who wasn’t Amish.” Lark sat back in her seat. “Wow. Do you think you will figure this out before you have to go back?”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  Fifteen minutes later I was pulling up to the curb at her house. I thanked her again for the lesson, and she tried to make plans for when we would meet again, but with her complicated schedule it was taking too long, so I told her I had to go and she could just text me once she’d figured it out.

  The main road to home had been reduced to one lane because of some construction, and it took me twice as long to get back as I was expecting. I watched the clock the whole way, though, and ended up with fifteen minutes to spare as I turned onto my dad’s street.

  Nearing the house, I spotted a vehicle I didn’t recognize in the driveway. It wasn’t the day for the cleaning service; they had already come this week. I parked next to the car, noting that no one was standing on the doorstep, ringing the bell.

  When I got close to the front door, I heard voices on the other side of it. I had set the security system before I left, so whoever was in there had to know how to disarm it. I had a feeling it was some other sort of service personnel to take care of yet another thing this family owned that they didn’t take care of themselves.

  Steeling myself for the possibility that I was wrong and the voices I heard were those of thieves or murderers, I quietly opened the door and listened more closely for a moment. What I picked up on was the sound of Frisco’s toenails clattering excitedly on the tiles in the kitchen and what I realized now were the voices of two women.

  Stepping inside, I closed the door behind me and strode across the entryway to the open kitchen and family room. On the couch sat Liz.

  My stepmother. The woman who was supposed to be in Central America.

  Another woman, dressed in nurse’s scrubs, was walking toward Liz with a bottle of water, Frisco at her heels.

  At the sound of my gasp, they both turned to look at me.

  “Oh, Tyler, there you are,” Liz said, giving me a wave. “I’m sorry. I hope we didn’t scare you.”

  “Of course not. I’m just surprised. What’s going on? What are you doing here?” I stood frozen for a long moment, feeling…what? Surly. Irritated. Maybe even downright angry.

  What was she doing here? Didn’t she realize this would ruin everything?

  Reminding myself that this was her home, I moved through the open kitchen and into the living room area, intending to give her a perfunctory hello hug. It wasn’t until I got around to the other side of the couch that I realized she’d been injured. Her left leg was in a cast, her right arm was in a sling, and there were bruises and scrapes along both sides of her face.

  “Liz! You’re hurt!” I stepped forward and lowered myself onto the coffee table in front of her, feeling terrible about my attitude. This changed everything. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  Forgive me, Father. Forgive me for being so selfish.

  With her good hand, Liz waved away my concerns, as if half her body wasn’t covered in bandages.

  “I’ll be fine.” She gingerly repositioned herself, stuffing a second pillow under her injured leg. I noticed that she had cut her hair short since the last time I’d seen her, three years ago. Other than that, and except for her injuries, she hadn’t changed much. She was still petite and golden brown from the sun, still attractive in a neat, “mom” sort of way.

  “Tyler, this is a friend and coworker from the hospital, Nancy,” Liz said, gesturing toward the other woman. “Nancy, this is my stepson, Tyler.”

  “Nice to meet you, Tyler. Sorry we startled you. Liz didn’t want to make a big fuss and call ahead.” Nancy tossed this comment back to my stepmother.

  “Don’t be dramatic.” Liz winced as she sat back and repositioned the arm that was in the sling. Frisco jumped into her lap, causing her to gasp, though whether from pain or surprise I wasn’t sure. Oblivious, he licked her face, and she responded by putting her good arm around him and snuggling him close.

  “What happened?” I said again.

  “It’s so stupid. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “She was in a dilapidated house in Honduras and it fell in on her,” Nancy said. “She’s lucky to still be alive.”

  “Oh, Nancy,” Liz scoffed. “You weren’t even there. The whole house didn’t collapse.”

  “Yeah, well, the part you were in did. That’s what matters.”

  “Does Dad know?” I asked.

  “Not yet. I was waiting to call him until I got home. He would have been a basket case if he had found out while I was still out of the country.”

  I still couldn’t quite believe she was here. “How did it happen? When did it happen?”

  “Yesterday morning, while I was on a home visit. It had been raining a lot, and the house where the family lived was very old and rickety. Without a solid foundation, one of the walls just collapsed in the saturated soil.”

  I shook my head, trying not to picture it.

  “At least there were people right outside who helped us get out from under the mess.”

  “Wow.”

  “No one in the house was seriously hurt. One of my team members patched me up at the local hospital, but I’ll need to go in tomorrow for a proper cast on my ankle. We think it’s fractured. My shoulder’s not broken, just badly bruised. I got the first flight out of Tegucigalpa this morning.”

  “And
Brady doesn’t know either?”

  She shook her head and then asked almost wistfully, “How is Brady? We’ve spoken on the phone a few times, and he sounds good, but I’ve missed him. Has everything been working out okay here without your dad and me around?”

  “We’re fine, though he’s going to be upset when he finds out you didn’t call to tell him about any of this.”

  Liz rolled her eyes. “I didn’t want people freaking out. It’s easier this way. I contacted Nancy and asked her if she could get off a little early and pick me up at the airport. It’s done now. I’m home. I’ll go to the hospital tomorrow and get a new cast. It’s as simple as that.”

  The knowledge that Liz had called a coworker to pick her up instead of her stepson was hurtful somehow, and it reminded me of the distance that had always been between us. Pushing those thoughts aside, I asked what I could do now to help. Again, Liz waved away the question.

  “Make sure you’re here for her,” Nancy said. “For whatever reason she needs. Keep her pills handy. Keep her off her feet. You’ll also have to give her a ride to the hospital tomorrow for that cast.”

  “Not a problem,” I said, looking from Nancy back to Liz. “On any of it.”

  “Liz, how are you going to get up and down the stairs?” Nancy asked.

  Liz shrugged. “I’ll figure something out.”

  “What about meals?”

  “I put all kinds of stuff in the freezer for these guys before I left. I’m sure a lot of it is still there.”

  I seconded Liz’s words, assuring Nancy that we would take good care of her.

  “Well, okay,” she said doubtfully. “I guess I’ll leave you to it then. Call me if you need anything.” She gave my stepmother a hug and then asked me to walk her out so I could retrieve Liz’s suitcase from the car. As we headed for the door, Liz called after us, “Don’t talk about me out in the driveway, you two. I’m fine. I really am.”

  We both chuckled—and obeyed, to a point. As I lifted out the navy blue bag, closed the trunk, and gave Nancy a final thanks, she said softly, “You have to be tough with her, Tyler. She’s in full ‘carry on, soldier’ mode, you know.”

  “I can see that. And I sure will.”

  “Good.”

  Back inside, I asked Liz where she wanted the suitcase.

  “Up in my room, but can you bring me an ice pack first?”

  “Of course.”

  Setting the bag at the foot of the stairs, I went to the kitchen, pulled out one of Brady’s ice packs from the freezer, and carried it over to her at the couch.

  “Thanks,” she said, taking it from me and placing it behind her shoulder.

  With a nod I grabbed the bag and headed up. When I was halfway there, the phone rang. I checked my watch. It was five minutes to one.

  Rachel.

  I charged back down the stairs.

  “Just let it go to the answering machine,” Liz called from the couch when she saw me.

  It rang a second time.

  “I can’t,” I replied as I set the suitcase on its wheels and dashed across the tiled entry toward the open kitchen. “I’m expecting a call.” It rang a third time.

  I scrambled for the handset and answered at the end of the ring, practically shouting my hello.

  “Tyler?” Rachel’s gentle voice met my ears.

  “Rachel! Yes, it’s me. Hi. I was afraid your call was going to go to the answering machine.”

  “Oh. Your daadi said this was a good time…” Her voice fell away.

  “It is, Rachel. Well, it was. But something’s come up.” I glanced over at Liz.

  “Do you not want to talk?”

  “No, no,” I assured her. “I do. It’s not that. It’s just that I just need to call you back. Five minutes. Ten at the most. I’ll explain everything then.”

  “Okay.” By the tone of Rachel’s voice, I couldn’t tell if she was hurt or merely confused. Either way, explanations would have to wait until I called her back.

  “Just one thing,” she said as I was about to hang up. “I’m not at the shanty. I’m in your daadi’s buggy shop. He said I should call from here so I don’t have to pay my parents back for the long-distance charges.”

  “That was nice of him,” I told her, and I meant it, but a part of me was sorry. What kind of privacy could she and I have if people were everywhere and machines and noise and commotion were in the background? Every word of our conversation—or at least her end of it—would be overheard by Daadi and the others, even if they tried not to listen. My grandfather’s offer to allow her to use the shop phone had been generous but not very well thought out.

  Still, I would take what I could get. Promising her I would call her back in just a bit from my cell phone, I hung up and returned my attention to Liz.

  “That your girlfriend?”

  “Yes. Rachel. It’s the first time we’ve spoken since I got here.”

  Liz’s eyes widened. “Oh, then by all means call the poor girl back. Take your time. I’m okay here on the couch. If you could just open this bottle of Advil and hand me the phone, that’s all I need. You make your phone call and I’ll make mine.”

  “To Dad?” I asked, trying not to wince at the thought. He wasn’t going to be happy about this news, that his beloved wife had been injured. I carried the house phone over to her.

  “Might as well get it over with.”

  We traded the phone for the Advil and I pushed down the lid, twisting it open.

  “Do you think he’ll insist on coming home?” I asked, handing it back to her and feeling a sudden surge of apprehension at the thought. Not that I didn’t want to spend more time with him—that would be great, actually. But if he returned, then I wouldn’t be needed after all, and I wasn’t ready for my time here to be over. Not even close.

  “I’m sure he’ll want to,” Liz said, shaking her head, “but no way am I going to let him do that. Coming home now would be ridiculous.”

  I tried not to breathe an audible sigh of relief.

  “As long as you don’t mind playing nursemaid as well as babysitter, we’ll be fine here without him.”

  “Hey,” I said with a smile, “I’m happy to be that and more. Nursemaid, babysitter, gardener, pool boy, soufflé maker, taxi driver, valet, caddie—”

  “You can probably scratch caddie for now,” she interjected, and we laughed.

  “Well, whatever you need, I’m happy to do it.”

  Her eyes took on a grateful expression, and then, to my surprise, they suddenly filled with tears.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said, using her good hand to wipe the tears away. “I’m sorry, Tyler. It’s just everything hitting all at once, you know? I’ve kept it together since this happened, telling myself Just wait until you get home, just wait until you get home. Now I am home, and I’m getting stupid.”

  My heart swelled with a surge of compassion, an emotion I doubted I’d ever felt for my stepmother before.

  “You military types,” I scolded softly. “Always so tough, always ready to soldier on no matter what. Give yourself a break, Liz. You’ve been through a lot.”

  That made her smile. Which made her cry again. With a groan, she once more wiped away her tears, laughed, and said, “Please get on out of here and call that girlfriend of yours.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Just be sure to come back when you’re done,” she added, her voice sounding almost vulnerable, something Liz had never, ever been with me before.

  TWENTY-THREE

  The weather was still so beautiful that I decided to call Rachel back from outside rather than in my room. Settling onto a patio chair next to the pool, I pulled the cell phone from my pocket and pressed the speed dial for the buggy shop. Thom answered and we spoke for a few moments, and then he handed the phone to Rachel.

  “What’s going on?” she asked as soon as she came on the line. “Are you okay?”

  Despite all the background noise—the whir of a pneumatic drill,
the pounding of a mallet, the lilting cadence of the men speaking Pennsylvania Dutch—the sound of her sweet voice came through loud and clear. How wonderful to connect with her at last.

  I assured her that I was fine. “It’s Liz,” I added. “She was injured down in Central America and had to cut her trip short and come home.”

  “What?” Rachel exclaimed. “She’s there?”

  “Yeah, can you believe it? I didn’t even know. I was out most of the day and just came home so I would be here in time for your call. To my surprise, when I walked inside, there was Liz, lying on the couch, all bruised and banged up and bandaged. A friend had brought her home from the airport.”

  Of course, compassionate Rachel immediately began peppering me with questions about Liz’s injuries, her condition, her prognosis. I answered them all and assured her that things were fine on this end for now, that Liz was currently nestled into the couch pillows with an ice pack, waiting for her Advil to kick in.

  “I don’t know, Tyler,” Rachel insisted. “Why don’t we plan to talk some other time so you can get back to her?”

  I smiled. Despite all that she and I had both gone through to make this phone call happen at last, she didn’t think twice about giving it up for the sake of one in need.

  “Actually, Liz doesn’t even want me in there at the moment. She’s on the phone with dad, breaking the news to him.”

  “Ah. Okay. I can see why she might need a little privacy.”

  Having convinced her at last, I settled more comfortably in my chair, took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “So how are you? Gosh, it’s good to hear your voice.”

  “Yours too,” she said. Her tone was so formal that for a moment I feared there was something wrong, that her feelings for me had somehow begun to cool. But then I realized she was just self conscious.

  “Hey,” I said, smiling to myself as I pictured her there on the phone, in the buggy shop. “You’re surrounded by a bunch of guys all pretending not to listen, aren’t you?”

  “Ya. Exactly.”

  “So you’re not free to say all the things you’d like to say. Like how much you miss me. How much you love me.”