by Beth Wiseman
Her mother picked up the pie and inspected it. “It looks fine, Leah.”
“Taste it.” Leah pulled a fork from the drawer and handed it to her mother. Then she watched her mother’s face wince with displeasure. “See, I told you. It’s not right at all.”
“Leah, you are to sprinkle basil, parsley flakes, thyme leaves, oregano, onion powder, a little brown sugar, and some salt and pepper over the tomatoes. How much of the herbs did you sprinkle? Particularly, how much pepper?” Marian placed the pie back on the counter.
“Until it covered the tomatoes.”
Her mother dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand. “We will work on this another time. For today, I’m sure Aaron will be very pleased with your chicken salad.”
“Tomato pie is Aaron’s favorite. I wish it had turned out.” She stared at the pie and thought about the extra time she put in this morning to make it. I could have been working on my story.
“Are—are you and Aaron possibly starting a courtship?” Her mother’s voice sounded hopeful but hesitant. Rightly so.
“No. We’re just friends.” Leah shrugged. “He’s nice enough, I reckon.”
Marian smiled. “He is certainly handsome.”
“I miss Clare and Donna, Mamm. I hope Daed will let me have lunch with them soon.”
“Your sister is much better, and you’ve been taking on your share of the household chores. I’m sure your father will come around soon.” She paused. “But, Leah, he will expect you to continue doing your share of the work around here even after he releases you from your punishment.”
Leah knew this to be true. And while she’d mastered chicken salad, she’d messed up everything else she’d tried to cook. Edna had resumed the sewing tasks, since Leah couldn’t seem to sew a straight line or even hem a pair of breeches. Mary Carol practically forbade Leah to help her in the garden ever since she’d accidentally pulled up her sister’s herbs, mistaking them for weeds. And Kathleen loved to do the cooking, so Leah didn’t see why everyone was so insistent that she learn how.
“I just wish there was something for me to do that I’m more— more suited to.” She turned and faced her mother. “Like writing my stories, Mamm. I think that maybe someday they will touch someone, help them to find the Lord, or maybe—”
“Leah, these tales you weave . . . it is a fine hobby. But it does not prepare you to be a proper fraa some day. What will you feed your husband and children? Will you not have your own garden? Will your home not be clean and well tended? What about clothes for your husband and children? Have you thought about all these things and how important these skills are in our community?”
“Ya, Mamm. I guess so.” Leah sighed. “But if I have to do all these things, I’d rather not get married.”
“Leah. Now, don’t say that. You know you don’t mean it.”
“Ya, I do! When I get married—a long time from now—my husband will have to allow me time to write my stories and live on chicken salad sandwiches.”
Her mother hung her head, but when she looked up, she was smiling. “Leah, you will find your way.”
Leah had heard her mother and Edna both say that before. Didn’t they understand? This is my way.
“I think I hear Aaron pulling up,” her mother said as she glanced out the open window in the kitchen. “Go, and have a gut time.”
Leah picked up the picnic basket, kissed her mother on the cheek, and headed out the door.
Chapter Twelve
AARON RECALLED HIS CONVERSATION IN THE BARN WITH Abner that morning. “You better hope that Edna or one of the other girls prepared your picnic lunch.” Then his brother had laughed.
He watched Leah toting the picnic basket out to his buggy, and he really didn’t care what was in it. The sunlight danced across her angelic face, and there was, as always, a bounce in her step. When she smiled, Aaron could see her dimples, even from across the yard.
“I made chicken salad,” she said proudly. She handed him the picnic basket. He placed it on the storage rack on the back of his courting buggy, then helped her in.
“I tried to make you a tomato pie, but . . .” She shrugged, then smoothed the wrinkles from her apron and folded her hands on her lap. “It just didn’t taste like it was supposed to.”
Aaron was touched that she would attempt to make him a tomato pie. He let his mind drift and pictured himself and Leah as a married couple. What would he eat? Even as the thought crossed his mind, Aaron knew he was going to do everything in his power to win her over. He gave his horse a flick of the reins.
“I love chicken salad.” He smiled.
After a few moments of silence, she asked, “So what did you think about my second story? Did you like it as much as the first?”
Aaron had already pondered his situation. If he gave up all his sleep, finished the book, then met her today, they’d have no reason to meet again—unless she gave him yet another book to read, and he knew he couldn’t keep this up. “I haven’t finished it, Leah.”
The disappointment registered on her face instantly.
“But I will.” He smiled. As soon as we spend enough time together for you to get to know me.
“It’s all right,” she said as she turned toward him. “I know you probably need sleep. Mei daed has me doing all these chores I never used to do, and I am finding less and less time to write my books. I’m too tired at night.” Her face twisted into a scowl. “And I don’t like that.”
“I guess you’ll write your stories if it’s important enough to you.” Aaron carefully crossed Lincoln Highway. As they passed the Gordonville Bookstore, he said, “Maybe your books will be in that store someday.”
“Ach! Wouldn’t that be something?” Her dimples puckered inward. “So many Englisch tourists visit that store. They’d buy my book and maybe somehow find their way to the Lord. If I helped one person seek out God, wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
Aaron couldn’t understand why that was so important to her, especially since ministering was not their way. But the thought seemed to thrill her so much, he didn’t want to spoil the moment. “Ya, I suppose it would be wonderful.”
“How far did you get? In the book?”
“The fourth chapter. Amos and Annie are, uh . . .” Suddenly he felt awkward. “They’re on the picnic.”
It was her story, so obviously she knew that Amos and Annie shared their first kiss while they were at the picnic. Aaron found his eyes drawn instantly to Leah’s lips. He quickly looked away.
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed as she stared straight ahead. “That’s a very gut part of the story.”
“Do they fall in lieb?” Now Aaron was blushing.
Leah turned toward him and pointed a finger in his direction. “No, no, no. I can’t tell you.”
Aaron chuckled. “Aw, come on . . .”
She folded her hands in her lap, then swiveled to face him. “What do you think?”
“I think that if all your stories have happy endings, then I reckon they fall in lieb.” Aaron turned onto an unnamed dirt road that led to what he believed would be the perfect picnic spot. He’d spent his lunch hour this past week trying to find the ideal spot to take Leah. Somewhere shady, hidden away, and romantic. And he’d found that perfect place at his cousin’s farm.
“Where are we going?” she asked, neither confirming nor denying that the characters in her book did indeed fall in love.
“My cousin’s place. Leroy and his family are in Ohio, and I know he won’t mind if we have a picnic by his pond.”
The unpaved road narrowed, and trees arched overhead in a picturesque display, blocking the bright sun as they neared the long driveway that led to his cousin’s farm. Aaron pulled into the gravel entrance and followed it almost up to the farmhouse, then veered to their left across the pasture.
“The wildflowers here are beautiful!” Leah eyed the stretch of meadow leading down to the pond.
Aaron knew this would be the perfect place. He pointed toward the wa
ter, surrounded by tall greenery, and toward a patch of trees off to the side of a wooden deck that stretched across the pond. “I was thinkin’ that under those trees would be a gut spot. At least we’ll have some shade.” He ran his sleeve across his forehead. “Maybe it’s too hot for a picnic. I’ll be ready for some lemonade or tea.” He pulled the buggy to a stop as close to one of the trees as he could, then jumped down and secured his horse. When he turned back to offer Leah a hand down, her face was puckered into a frown. He thought it was kind of cute the way her dimples showed even when she frowned. “What’s wrong?”
She latched onto his hand and hopped down. “I forgot to bring anything to drink. And I didn’t bring a blanket or anything to sit on.”
Aaron recalled Abner telling him about the picnic he went on with Edna, complete with wet towels for cleanup afterward. He smiled. “It’s no problem. I’ll just walk up to the house and get us something to drink and something to sit on.”
“Sorry.” She shrugged.
“While I’m gone, would you fill this up and give ol’ Pete a drink from the pond?” He handed her a metal bucket from the back. “It’s so hot, I reckon he could use a drink.”
“Ya, of course.” She took the bucket and started to walk toward the pond.
“Don’t fall in while I’m gone,” he teased. “Back shortly.”
Leah swung the small bucket all the way to the pond, leaned down, and dipped it into the water. Then she set it down, cupped her hands, and pooled some of the water up to her face. It wasn’t cool water or fit for her to drink, but it was wet and felt good against her hot skin.
She carried the water back to the horse and offered it to him. “Pete, you’re thirsty, no?”
After the horse emptied the bucket, Leah returned it to the storage rack behind the buggy, then eyed the wildflowers—orange, yellow, and pink buds nestled among towering green stems. She found a thick cluster of pink blooms in the middle of the meadow and lay down, thankful to God for the beauty that surrounded her. It felt good to be away from the house, out in the middle of the field, with only the cows voicing an occasional hello. She crossed her ankles and propped her hands behind her head. A breeze rustled through the flowers, and she thought about Rose in her story, how she loved the flowery meadows. Maybe Aaron was right. Maybe she did write some of her own personality into Rose’s character.
She breathed in the moment. Thank You, Lord, for this beautiful land You’ve given us, that calms us and nourishes us. She propped herself up on her elbows, opened her eyes, and peered toward the house. She could see the front door still open, so she figured Aaron must be rounding up a blanket and something to drink. I can’t believe I forgot the lemonade.
Leah glanced to her left. All was quiet, except for two brown cows grazing in the next pasture. Leah lay back down and closed her eyes.
Aaron made his way across the front yard after locating a blanket and filling a thermos with lemonade, thankful his cousin didn’t feel the need to lock his farmhouse door.
Aaron knew Leroy wouldn’t mind the intrusion, especially if there was a young woman involved. He was always encouraging Aaron to find a wife and didn’t understand his fascination with Leah. “She doesn’t seem like the marrying kind to me,” Leroy had said.
Aaron squinted and scanned the pond area, but he didn’t see Leah. He draped the cumbersome brown blanket over his shoulder, got a good grip on the lemonade, and picked up his pace. Where is she?
Sunlight poured down from clear blue skies, and if it had been about twenty degrees cooler, it would have been a perfect day for a picnic. But he’d endure the heat for a chance to spend time with Leah. He tipped his straw hat back to have a better look across the meadow filled with colorful wildflowers, and as he left the yard and entered the pasture, he spotted her lying amid green leafy foliage topped with orange, yellow, and pink blooms. She looked like an angel, with her arms stretched high above her head, her dark blue dress in clear contrast against the colors around her.
Aaron smiled. Only Leah would do something like this, he thought as he neared her. He expected her to stand up at any moment, stretch her arms out, and gracefully waltz through the meadow, as Rose had done in her story. It was a perfect moment, watching her like this.
“I got the lemonade!” he hollered as he got within a few yards of her. “And a blanket.”
No response. Aaron stopped a few feet away from her, his feet rooted to the ground.
“Leah!”
She didn’t move, and suddenly Leah didn’t look so angelic, and the soft swishing of the tall grass amid the flowers seemed eerie and sent a chill through him. He thought about Edna and how she’d been rushed to the hospital, barely able to breathe. Auntie Ruth’s words had lingered in his mind all week too. “I might drop dead right over there, amidst the wildflowers in the pasture.”
Aaron dropped the blanket and the thermos, and his hat flew off as he dashed toward her, fell down in the grass beside her, and pulled her forcefully into his arms.
“Leah!”
She screamed, piercing his eardrum. “Aaron Lantz, let go of me! What in the world are you doing?”
Chapter Thirteen
LEAH FOUGHT TO WRIGGLE OUT OF AARON’S STRONG arms, pushing her hands into his chest and putting some distance between them, but one arm still cradled the small of her back, and an unfamiliar sensation swept over her. She stared into eyes wild with—with something.
“Aaron Lantz, what are you doing?” She shoved him back, stumbled to her feet, and brushed the powdery flower residue from her dress. “It wonders me if maybe you’re not crazy!”
Aaron rose to his feet, put his hands on his hips, and stared into her eyes. “I thought you were . . .” He took a deep breath.
“Thought I was what?” She couldn’t help but smile at how distraught he looked, for reasons she didn’t understand. “I love this time of year, when all the wildflowers are in bloom. And I feel close to God when I lie on His precious earth. What in the world came over you?” She glanced over his shoulder. “Would that be our lemonade and blanket back there?” Leah was starting to question whether this picnic was a good idea.
Aaron pulled off his hat and wiped his forehead with his sleeve, something he did too much of. Didn’t the man own a handkerchief? Then, without warning, he latched onto her hand and pulled her along beside him.
“I’ll explain later. Let’s go have our picnic.”
His hand was strong, and although she was surprised by his aggressiveness, she didn’t feel compelled to pull from his grasp. When they reached the blanket and the toppled thermos of lemonade, Aaron let go of her hand and picked up the thermos. He twisted off the attached cup and poured her a cup of lemonade.
“Here,” he said, handing it to her. Then he chuckled.
Leah swigged the entire cupful and handed it back to him. “What’s so funny?”
Aaron shook his head. “My crazy Auntie Ruth.”
“Huh?”
He poured himself some lemonade and swigged it down in one gulp, then reattached the cup to the thermos. He picked up the blanket and swung it over his shoulder. “I’ll explain later. Let’s go spread this underneath the trees by the pond. I’m starving. What about you?”
“I reckon I’m a little hungry,” she said as she cut her eyes in his direction. But as they walked toward the cluster of trees near the pond, Leah couldn’t seem to shake the feel of his arms wrapped tightly around her earlier. She’d never been that close to a boy. And Aaron was hardly a boy. Discreetly, she allowed her eyes to dart in his direction and took in his tall stance, the way his blue shirt almost looked too small as his muscles rippled beneath it, the confident way he walked. Despite the scorching heat, a shiver ran down her spine. What is happening to me?
Aaron spread the blanket beneath the trees and motioned for her to sit. Then he walked to the buggy and retrieved the picnic basket. After he placed it on the blanket next to the thermos of lemonade, he sat down beside her.
“Do you w
ant to tell me what all that nonsense was about?” Leah used her most demanding voice, even though she was secretly wishing they could replay the entire scene.
“Can we eat first?” Even his smile now sent a wave of something unfamiliar streaming through her veins.
She sat up taller, folded her hands in her lap. “I’m not sure I can eat until you tell me exactly what caused your strange behavior.”
Aaron opened one of the wooden flaps on the top of the picnic basket, closed one eye, and playfully squinted into the basket. “Please, can’t we eat first?”
Leah shook her head and shrugged. “I reckon so.” She pushed his hand out of the way and pulled out two paper plates, then placed a sandwich on each plate, along with some chips and a sweet pickle. “I have apple pie too.”
“I’m impressed.” He grinned before taking a large bite of the chicken salad.
“Don’t be. Kathleen made the pie.” Leah picked up her sandwich, started to take a bite, then stopped, noticing that Aaron had already eaten half of his sandwich. “You’ve probably heard that I’m not exactly a very gut cook.”
He swallowed, then grinned. “Ya, I’ve heard that.” He paused. “Not much of a seamstress or gardener, either. That’s what I’m told.”
Leah slammed her sandwich down on the paper plate. “Then why did you even want to come here with me on this picnic? I’m sure Hannah could have prepared you a much better lunch.” Leah regretted the statement the minute she said it.
Aaron ignored the comment. “I’m startin’ to think that everyone’s not been real truthful with me about your cooking. This is the best chicken salad I’ve ever had. And I mean that.”
Leah took another bite of her sandwich, chewed, then swallowed. She smiled. “It really is good, isn’t it?”
Aaron nodded.
When they’d finished, Leah pulled out the two pieces of apple pie and handed one to Aaron. “Compliments of Kathleen,” she said. “Sorry my tomato pie didn’t turn out.”
