by Beth Wiseman
Marian pressed her lips together, raised her chin, and opened her eyes wide. It was the look she wore when she was about to confront him about something. “Maybe you should let her go, James.”
He knew she was right. A boy was interested in Leah, and he certainly didn’t want to hinder progress. “I don’t know . . .”
“I know the girls in the Lantz family. They have all been around Leah enough to know that she does not excel at certain things. I’m sure they’ve told Aaron that, and if he is still interested in her— perhaps you should reconsider her punishment, even if just for one night.”
James nodded at the approaching waitress, then waited for Marian to order before he ordered his lasagna. Maybe Leah just needed the right boy to motivate her to learn the skills necessary to become a good wife. “I reckon one night would be all right.”
Marian’s face lit up, and James was suddenly anxious to get home. His wife still caused his heart to skip a beat when she looked at him a certain way. After twenty-one years of marriage, he was as in love with her as the first day he saw her on the playground at school. Her brown eyes still sparkled with youthful enthusiasm when she was pleased, the same way they did the day that James offered her a piece of chewing gum in the fourth grade.
“I think that is a gut decision,” she said with a wink.
Sunday morning, Leah wasn’t surprised to see Kathleen, Mary Carol, Mamm, and even Edna making breakfast before she got downstairs. And they were up earlier than usual to do so.
“I know my cooking stinks.” She sighed. “I’ll get the jellies and such and put them on the table. Hard to mess that up.” She shuffled toward the refrigerator, her head hanging low. She’d really tried. How hard could it be to scramble eggs?
“Leah,” her mother said tenderly. “No worries. You will find something you excel at. And your cooking was fine.”
“It is a sin to lie, Mamm.” She placed the jams on the table, then thrust one hand on her hip. “I know that I got confused about the measurements with the ham loaf Friday night. And I know my meat loaf was heavy on the salt. But eggs? I should be able to do that.” She stomped her foot a bit. “I put the oil in with the eggs just like I’ve seen Kathleen do a hundred times.”
They all turned to face her, expressions blank.
Then Kathleen exclaimed, “That’s for cakes, Leah! I mix the oil in with the eggs when I’m making cakes, not when I’m just scrambling the eggs.” She shook her head and laughed.
“That explains it,” Mary Carol said.
“Explains what?” Daed entered the kitchen.
But no one answered him. Instead, laughter erupted throughout the kitchen as all eyes landed on his pant hems. One leg was hemmed much higher than the other.
“Leah,” Edna said, “is that the pair of pants you hemmed for Daed?”
Leah didn’t answer. She glanced back and forth between her sisters. Even her mother was chuckling. Their laughter echoed in Leah’s head as she ran out of the room.
She heard Edna calling after her, but she didn’t turn around. Then she heard her mother say that no one was making fun of her. But they were. All of them. If they knew how hard she’d really tried, they wouldn’t be laughing. She threw herself facedown on her bed.
“We should all be ashamed of ourselves,” Marian said. She dried her hands on her apron. “I’ll go to her.”
James cut in front of her path. “No. I will do it.”
He wasn’t even to the top of the stairs when he heard Leah crying. He slowly pushed open her bedroom door. She bolted upright and swiped at her tears.
“I’m sorry, Daed.” She buried her face in her hands. “I tried. I really did. I even tried to help Mary Carol in the garden, but she said I wasn’t picking the vegetables the right way. I’m not gut at any of this.”
James didn’t like to see Marian or any of the girls cry. And he was responsible for her pain. He sat down on Edna’s bed, across from Leah. “Leah,” he said tenderly, “the reason you are not gut with these skills is because you don’t practice them enough. If you practice—”
“That’s not true, Daed. I’ve tried on and off for years to be a better Amish woman. It just doesn’t come naturally to me, and I don’t know why.”
I don’t know why either. James stroked his beard and thought for a moment. “What do you want to do with your life, Leah? If these things that are necessary to become an Amish fraa don’t interest you, what does?”
James knew the answer, but he’d been praying for some guidance where Leah was concerned. Maybe she could explain her writing to him in a way that he could understand, tell him why such a silly thing was so important to her and seemed to distract her from more important things. It would serve her no purpose in their community, especially as a woman doing so. Women had certain responsibilities within the district. His daughter knew this.
Leah sniffled. “I’m eighteen years old. I know that I need to work on my home skills, and I will continue to do so.” She sat up taller.
James grimaced as he thought about more experimental meals, but he was the one who had forced this issue. Why doesn’t she mention her writing? “Is there something else you’d rather do, Leah? If so, tell me about it. Help me to understand.”
She looked at her feet. “No. Nothing. I will work harder to do better with my chores.”
A sense of despair settled over James. This was what he’d always wanted to hear from her, but he knew that she was stifling her dreams to say what he wanted to hear.
“I know you have been working hatt, Leah. I have decided to allow you to attend the singing tonight at the Grabers’.” He paused. “But your punishment is only on hold for tonight. Edna still needs to take things slowly until her infection is better, and I’d like to see you helping out more for the next couple weeks. No lunches with your Englisch friends or traveling to town. Then we will speak of this matter again.”
“Danki, Daed.”
James left his daughter’s room and knew he should feel victorious. Leah was finally coming around. But something just wasn’t right in his heart.
Chapter Nine
AARON PUT LEAH’S THICK STACK OF PAPERS IN A PAPER bag and headed down the stairs. He slowed as he hit the den and listened for voices. Nothing. Maybe his sisters had already left for the singing. He wasn’t eager for anyone to know he’d been reading Leah’s book. He’d finished it last night and had to admit he was impressed.
His parents were in their room, and Abner was already on his way to the Petersheims’ for a visit, since Edna didn’t feel up to attending the singing. A clean getaway. Aaron tucked the bag under his arm and shuffled across the den to the front door. He’d already readied his horse and courting buggy earlier in the day. He pushed the screen door open and darted down the stairs.
“Where ya goin’ in such a hurry?”
Auntie Ruth. He’d forgotten about her. Aaron spun around. “To pick up Leah and take her to the singing, and I’m running late.” Which was true.
She stood up from the rocker on the porch, dressed in orange and red plaid breeches and a bright red blouse. Her toenails were painted a bright red and matched her long fingernails and the color on her lips.
You’d think that while she was here, she’d try to blend in just a little.
As she walked toward him, her eyes focused on his bag. “What’s that? Aaron Lantz, you aren’t trying to sneak alcohol into that singing, are ya?” She shook her head. “That stuff’s bad for you.”
Aaron glanced at the small glass in her hand half full of a dark liquid. “No, Auntie Ruth. It’s not alcohol. It’s—something of Leah’s.”
She toddled toward him. Aaron sighed, knowing he was going to be even later, and that was not a good way to start the evening. He loved Auntie Ruth, but he didn’t have time for silly chitchat right now. She put one hand on her hip. “You read her book, huh?”
“What?”
“That’s what’s in that bag, isn’t it?” Auntie Ruth took a sip from her glass,
smudging it with red around the rim.
Aaron sighed.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell. But was it any good?”
“Auntie Ruth, ya, it was gut. Now I have to go. I’m already late.” Aaron started walking backward toward his buggy. “We’ll talk later.”
Ruth nodded, took another sip. Since she’d arrived, Aaron had seen her having an alcoholic drink every day, sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening. She’d never done that when she’d visited before, or when they visited her in Florida.
He turned around and hurried to the buggy. He set the bag down on the seat, then climbed in. He grabbed the reins and was getting ready to back his horse up, when he thought of something. Auntie Ruth was still standing barefoot in the front yard.
“Why did you tell Leah you have a secret?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Because I do.” She took a few steps toward him. “Want me to tell you what it is?”
Aaron couldn’t even begin to speculate what type of secret she might be keeping. This was the same woman who came to visit three years ago carting three baby ferrets with her. Mamm refused to let the “rats,” as she called them, stay in the house. Another time, a few years before that, Ruth had shown up riding a big black motorcycle, wearing black leather pants and a matching jacket. There was just never any reckoning about what might be on Auntie Ruth’s mind.
“If you want to tell me.” Aaron began to back up the buggy as Ruth drew near. “But you don’t have to,” he added, hoping to be on his way.
But she kept walking until she was right beside the buggy, so Aaron stopped.
“I suppose it’s best that you know.” Ruth took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I will be passin’ on to the other side, to be with my heavenly Father soon.” She raised her chin high. “Yes, Aaron. I’m going to drop dead shortly.”
Aaron’s mouth hung open. This was the most nonsense he’d ever heard from her, and he wondered why she’d make up such a thing. “Auntie Ruth,” he finally said, “that’s the craziest notion I’ve ever heard. What in the world would make you say somethin’ like that? Are you sick?” He looked again at the glass in her hand.
“It’s just my time, dear Aaron.” She made the sign of the cross, took another sip of her drink, then pointed a crooked finger toward the sky. “I’ll be goin’ home soon.”
He did not have time for her silliness. “Auntie Ruth, we’ll talk about this later, but I reckon you ain’t gonna drop dead any time soon.”
“But I am, Aaron.” She pressed her lips firmly together and blinked her eyes a few times. “I might drop dead right over there, amid the wildflowers in the pasture.” She waved her free hand toward the wide-open field. “Wouldn’t that be lovely? Taking my last breath in God’s plush landscaping.” Her eyes grew wide. “I think you best not tell anyone, though.”
Aaron shook his head. He’d tell his mother about this as soon as possible.
Leah was starting to think Aaron had changed his mind. Mary Carol and Kathleen had left fifteen minutes ago, and Abner arrived to visit Edna shortly after that. The singing started at eight o’clock and only lasted about an hour and a half.
Leah pushed the rocker on the porch into motion. She could hear Edna and Abner talking and laughing with her parents in the kitchen. If Aaron was trying to be fashionably late, as Clare and Donna would say, he was bordering on making her mad.
Then she heard the shuffling of horse hooves and saw him pull into the driveway. She pushed herself up from the rocker and padded down the porch steps and into the yard, blocking her eyes from the setting sun.
She waited until he stopped beside her, then cupped her hands on her hips. “You’re late, Aaron Lantz.”
“Sorry. It was Auntie Ruth. She was telling me a crazy story, and her ramblin’ held me up.” He reached onto his seat and offered her a brown paper bag. “Here’s your book. I read the whole thing.”
Leah accepted it. “Did you like it?”
“Ya, I really did.”
She could tell by the way he said it that he meant it. Leah couldn’t wait to talk about it with him on the way to the singing. But first she wanted to put it safely away. “I’ll be right back. I just want to go put this in the house.” She held up her index finger. “One minute.”
She skipped back into the house and entered through the den to avoid her family in the kitchen. Then she bolted upstairs. She set the bag on her bed and reached for her other completed story inside the drawer. Leah pounded the papers on her nightstand in an effort to straighten them somewhat. She pulled the first book from the bag and tucked it safely in the drawer, then put the other book inside the bag. She slammed the door shut and ran down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time, then dashed through the den.
Aaron watched her coming toward him in her dark blue dress and smiled. Until he saw what she was carrying. No, no, no. He’d enjoyed Leah’s story, but he needed sleep. He couldn’t keep this up every night.
“Since you liked it, I thought you might want to read the second one I wrote.” She pushed it toward him.
He forced a smile and accepted it, then stepped out of the buggy and offered her his hand. She latched on, and Aaron helped her into his courting buggy. He knew good and well that they weren’t dating, yet he was about to have to read another book.
“I think it’s better than the first, but it’s much longer,” she added.
Aaron slid in beside her, then took a peek inside the bag. He eyed the thick stack of paper but didn’t say anything.
Leah waited until they pulled onto the two-lane road that wound through the back roads of Paradise. “So, what was your most favorite part?”
“The end.” His meaning was twofold. When he had finished the last page, he’d assumed his sleep schedule would return to normal. But he decided to give her the other meaning within his answer. “Everyone is happy at the end of the book.” Particularly Rose and Jesse.
Leah broke into a wide smile. “Wait until you read this next one!” She folded her hands in her lap and kept grinning.
Aaron eased his horse into a gentle gallop as he thought about all the sleepless nights ahead of him. “And when will we be talkin’ about this next book? On the way to another singing?”
“Why, Aaron Lantz, you make this sound like a trade-off.”
“I’m not the one who invited you to the singing. You invited me, no?”
“True. But I’m not sure when I will be able to go out again.” She paused as her expression soured. “I have to help out more with the chores at home.”
“Until Edna is better?” He was wondering how long that would be, and if she was just saying that as an excuse not to go anywhere with him.
Leah sighed. “I don’t know. Mei daed said he would like to see me become a better cook, gardener, seamstress, and all the other things that go into making a gut . . .” She slanted her eyes in his direction, then turned and faced forward again. “. . . a gut fraa.”
Aaron chuckled, then realized from the look on her face that he shouldn’t have.
“What’s so funny?” She’d twisted in her seat to face him.
“Nothing.” He tried to sound convincing.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ve heard from your sisters that I’m not very gut at quilting. We’ve been at many quilting parties together. And I don’t cook very well either. It’s just that . . .” She pressed her lips together and frowned for a moment. “I could be happy eating a sandwich, and it doesn’t really bother me if the house isn’t all that clean. I’d rather be writing my stories. I really believe that they might help someone someday.” She shrugged. “Maybe not, though.”
Aaron was thinking about her story, the way she intertwined the Lord’s goodness with her characters’ quest for spiritual guidance. “Do all your books help someone find their way to God? And is there always a romance?” She must believe in true love or she wouldn’t write about it.
Leah smiled. “Not always a romance, but always a happy ending.”
>
They were quiet for a few moments. The sun was bearing down on the horizon, and Leah looked to her left at the old Bontrager place.
“It’s a shame about that place.” She nodded toward the rundown homestead. The front porch on the old home was tilted, the paint was peeling, and weeds had taken over the property. “I heard some man and his son used to live there, but they just up and left one day, and no one knows where they went or why.”
“Ya. That’s what I heard too.” He paused, straining to see the house as the skies began to darken. “Maybe someone will buy the old place and fix it up.”
Aaron could see the Grabers’ farm up ahead, along with dozens of buggies parked out front.
“What else did you like about my story?” she asked, as if sensing she didn’t have much time to pump him for information.
“It seemed like you were writing about—” Aaron wasn’t sure if he should be this honest.
“About what?”
“About yourself.” He guided his buggy onto the Grabers’ driveway.
“What? Rose isn’t anything like me. She’s actually a gut cook, tends her garden, and even sews clothes for her niece.”
Aaron slowed his horse with a “whoa.” Once they were stopped, he turned toward her. “Rose is full of life, and she has a big heart. She wants to help others, and she’s—she’s beautiful, inside and out.” He was so far out on a limb, he wanted to jump. But then Leah gave him a smile that sent his pulse racing.
“Danki, Aaron.”
“Why, Leah Petersheim, I think you’re blushing, no?” He stepped out of the buggy and offered Leah his hand, which she accepted as she stepped from the buggy.
Leah opened her mouth to say something, but the sound of feet shuffling across the yard caused them both to turn toward the movement.
Aaron recognized the person heading their way.
Oh no.
Chapter Ten
LEAH WATCHED HANNAH BEILER SWINGING HER HIPS toward them. In a world that discouraged vanity and pride, Hannah seemed to have a hardy abundance of both. Propane lights hung from the trees in the Grabers’ front yard, and Leah could see several people gathered around a picnic table filled with food. But the closer Hannah got, all Leah could see was Hannah’s pearly white, straight smile. Leah ran her tongue over her own teeth, and it wasn’t a straight sweep.
