by Leslie Gould
Reuben told them both good-bye and left. Then Dawdi told Lila to go ahead, that he’d take over so she could leave.
Reuben wanting to say his piece but not being willing to put the effort into talking reminded her of Dat. It was that disengagement that frustrated her. That unwillingness to put out the effort to listen, to talk, and to share one’s feelings. But then again maybe Dat did engage with Beth. Lila couldn’t imagine the woman investing in another relationship where she didn’t have that.
On the way to the restaurant, once her horse had turned onto the highway, Lila took the letter out of her pocket and opened it.
Zane hadn’t written much. Just that it was good to see her and he hadn’t meant to put pressure on her.
You’ve been pretty clear that you didn’t want to communicate, and maybe I should have left it at that—but I felt compelled to ask one more time. If you decide not to write back, I understand. Truly. I value all of my memories of our childhood above all else. I’m grateful to God for giving you and your siblings to me as neighbors and friends. But your Dat is right. We’re grown now.
I can’t keep clinging to the past. I’ll always treasure it—but I know God will take care of all of us, as he sees fit, in the future. The verse “Be still, and know that I am God” keeps going through my head. Even though it’s a war zone, there is a lot of stillness in Afghanistan. I know God is here as much as he is on Juneberry Lane.
I appreciate your prayers for those times that aren’t so still.
He signed it, Your friend, Zane.
That was all. But it filled her heart to have him share so honestly with her.
The horse came to a stop at the crossroads, and Lila glanced up. To her right was Reuben in his empty wagon, waving at her. She waved back and wondered if he could tell she had been reading something. She continued to wave as he turned right and headed back toward the lumberyard and she continued on to the Plain Buffet, feeling guilty for her deception.
On the other hand the letter from Zane filled her with relief. He seemed so much more settled than when he joined the Army. Maybe they really could just be friends. Perhaps there would be no harm in writing him back.
Once she had her horse taken care of, she headed to the break room. Mandy came rushing in behind her. “I’m so glad you’re working tonight. I just had a text from Simon.”
“Is everything okay?”
“He’s doing great.”
Lila shook her head. Mandy and Simon were like two peas in a pod. Both overly optimistic—that was for sure.
“How’s your soldier doing?” Mandy asked.
“He’s not my soldier.”
The girl grinned.
“But it sounds as if Simon is yours.”
“Yeah, well, don’t spread it around. I haven’t figured out how to tell my parents. But I really like your brother—a lot. I think I might even love him.”
Lila tried to smile. “I doubt you know what you’re getting into—but I’m sure you can handle yourself, and him.”
“Your time will come,” Mandy said. “Long before mine does. Unless I end up leaving the church sooner rather than later.”
Lila nodded. She couldn’t imagine Simon ever coming back home now. It would be a big transition for Mandy, but she had the spunk to leave the Plain way of life. Besides, she already knew how to drive a car and use technology.
Lila would never leave. And it wasn’t just that she was baptized now. She’d never wanted to leave.
The peace from her baptism still held her. It was the right thing to do. “Be still, and know that I am God.” Now the verse was running through her head too.
Still she couldn’t help but envy Mandy—that she could love someone so effortlessly, without worrying about the future.
And that Simon clearly loved her too.
Reuben showed her that he loved her—but he’d never actually said it. She felt it shouldn’t bother her, but it did. Words mattered to her, but not to Reuben.
Lila didn’t intercept the next letter. It came two weeks later, and Dawdi delivered it to her. Thinking fast, she said, “It’s probably a thank-you for the quilts Mammi sent with him.”
She’d written a short reply to Zane’s first note, simply saying that it had been good to see him too, asking how his transition back had gone, and how the weather was. She’d said nothing of importance, nothing about him writing again.
Dawdi hesitated a moment, as if he expected her to unseal it in front of him. Instead she folded the envelope and slipped it into her pocket. This time she couldn’t wait to open it, and on her break she slipped out the back door to water her horse. Thankfully there was a note to Mammi, Eve, and Beth, thanking them for the quilts and blankets and describing how happy the mothers were to receive them for their babies. Lila exhaled as she read, grateful that the women had made more blankets—mostly receiving ones with the edges serged because that was faster. She’d sent them the week before.
Next was a letter to Lila. He had received her letter. It came out to the field with a package from my mom, he wrote. Thank you for writing. It means a lot. He didn’t mention how shallow the letter had been—and she appreciated that, remembering their many conversations from when they were younger that were anything but shallow.
We’re at base for two days—enough to shower, wash our clothes, and get a few good meals, or as good as they get. I know you’re still feeling standoffish with me, and I get that. Both Simon and Daniel told me you’ll marry soon. Reuben’s a good man. You’ll do well together. I know you don’t feel as if you can be transparent with me now, and I understand that too.
What I want to make clear is how much I appreciated your honesty in the past. I’m not saying you’re not being honest now—you are, within the boundaries you’re comfortable with. I respect that. But I wanted you to know that your honesty when we were growing up and into our teen years showed me that’s what I want in life. To be honest. And to have those I love be honest with me.
I don’t know why I’m writing this. I guess just to let you know I appreciate the influence you’ve had on my life. No matter what happens, know that I loved you.
Lila swallowed hard, fighting back tears.
I didn’t know how to show you, and I’m sorry about that. It was probably better, anyway. For all we have in common, I know there’s more that separates us. I see the fathers here so desperate to care for their children, and I think of your Dat. I know we didn’t always see it, but he loves you—all of you. I can see that in the villagers here. A harshness fueled by love and the desire to do what is right. The Afghan people have taught me nearly as much as the Amish.
It ended abruptly. He’d simply signed it: Zane.
She tucked the letter back into her pocket. “. . . know that I loved you.” She swallowed hard again and headed back into the shop, swiping at her eyes as she walked. Dawdi was at the counter. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Lila smiled. “Just a bit of dust in my eye,” she said, pulling the thank-you note out of her pocket. “Zane sent this for the ladies.” She handed Dawdi the note.
He read it and smiled. “Nice. For a minute I thought he was corresponding with you.”
Lila shrugged. “He wanted Mammi and the rest of the women to know how much the quilts and blankets were appreciated.”
Dawdi didn’t say anything more. He didn’t like conflict. If anything more needed to be said, he’d leave it to Mammi.
Lila felt melancholy the rest of the day. That evening, after the supper dishes were put away, she went for a walk, slipping through the gate and then along the poplar trees. Had her Mamm felt this way about the Englisch boy she’d dated? Before she broke things off. Had it felt to her as if she were being yanked in two?
Her heart felt—again—as if it were breaking. She slid down the bank to their old fort. The frame of it was still solid, and although the sheets of plywood had weathered, they’d stayed in place. The rope they used to swing on when they played Tarzan had frayed, but th
e stump Zane had rolled down the bank where they used to sit side-by-side while she taught him Pennsylvania Dutch hadn’t changed at all. The sound of the water streaming over the rocks soothed her as she reread the letter again in the dusky light. “. . . know that I loved you.” Why had he written that? Even if it meant he loved her as a friend, it only made it harder for her. She folded the letter and tucked it back into her pocket.
On the way back to the house, fireflies flickered in and out of the poplar trees. Lila stopped to watch. She couldn’t help but smile at the beauty of them. “Be still, and know that I am God.”
That night, after Rose and Trudy had fallen asleep, Lila lit the lamp in their room, turned the wick down low, and wrote back to Zane. She told him about how work was going, at both jobs, and about how taken Mandy was with Simon. She wrote him that Daniel and Jenny planned to marry in November, but she didn’t write anything about Reuben wanting to marry her then too.
She continued on, writing about walking down to the fort and seeing the fireflies on the way back and what an enchanting moment it had been. She didn’t write that the verse, “Be still, and know that I am God,” was now playing over and over in her head.
Finally she closed the letter by writing:
I, too, treasure our time as children. I will always value the friendship we had. I learned so much from you. Your enthusiasm for life was contagious and brightened my childhood. I’m very grateful for that.
She knew she’d be a better wife and mother because of her friendship with Zane. Even though she wanted to close with your friend, she didn’t. She simply signed it Lila. And she didn’t say anything about loving him—not in the past or now. Or ever.
Lila was in the shop when Zane’s next letter came. She answered it right away too. But when his fourth letter came, the end of July, one of the other clerks was working in the shop and she gave the letter to Dawdi, who gave it to Lila two days later when she came in to work. “Are you corresponding with him now?” he asked.
“I wrote him back,” Lila answered, taking the letter from her grandfather. “How is Mammi feeling?”
“Better,” Dawdi answered. “One more treatment and then she’ll have another CAT scan.”
Lila nodded.
“She’s going to come in to the shop later this afternoon.”
“Gut,” Lila answered. She hadn’t seen her grandmother for the last week. She’d been working five evenings a week at the Plain Buffet. Dat had been making Rose help with the morning and afternoon milking on the days Lila worked at both places. Trudy was helping some now too and a few times Adam helped also.
Dawdi drove Mammi to the shop midafternoon, right before it was time for Lila to leave. Dawdi headed back to the office, but Mammi stayed up front. The day had grown overcast and humid, and her grandmother had a bottle of water with her that she kept sipping. “I had a message from Trudy that she and your Dat and Beth planned to stop by.”
“Oh?” No one had said anything to Lila earlier in the day.
“Your Dat had to stop by the feed store, and Beth suggested an outing—to the creamery,” Mammi explained.
Lila gathered up her things, patted her unread letter in her pocket, and then started to the door of the shop just as Dat, Beth, and Trudy stepped through it. After saying hello to everyone, Lila placed her hand on the top of Trudy’s head. “How fun that you get to go to the creamery.”
“Can you come with us?” Trudy asked.
Lila shook her head. “I’m off to work.” She gave her little sister a hug. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She called back to Dawdi in the office, telling him good-bye.
“Do you have your letter?” Dawdi called back.
“Jah,” she answered, knowing her grandfather didn’t realize others were in the shop.
“What letter?” Dat asked.
Lila hesitated and then said, “Zane sent a thank you for the quilts and blankets from Mammi and the other ladies. I wrote him back.”
“And you encouraged him to respond?”
She nodded. She had, by writing.
Dat stretched his hand out. “Let me see.”
“I’ll give it to you tonight,” Lila answered. “I’m about to be late.” She’d never defied her father before.
He started to speak, but then Beth gave him a look and he stopped. Lila hurried out the door.
She didn’t read the letter until she reached the restaurant parking lot, where she pulled around the back to the barn. She unhitched her horse, watered and fed her, and then leaned against the weathered barn boards. Zane wrote about their latest village visits and said it had been really hot, with a lot going on. He wrote that he felt he was finally making progress winning Benham’s trust, and that the work with the women and children was going well.
I admire these people. I appreciate the simple lifestyle, the focus on family, and the desire to care independently for the clan. The more I see of the world though, the more I appreciate what I’ve learned from the Amish. I know no group is perfect—just as no person is—but I’ve seen nothing to change my mind about Plain living. Be thankful for what you have.
At the end of the letter he wrote again how grateful he was that she’d agreed to write.
You writing about the fireflies made me so happy. Your letters give me something more to look forward to. And hope for.
Her stomach flopped. She had no right to give him any kind of hope.
And as I’ve said before, I appreciate your honesty. I don’t expect anything more from you than friendship—but I know you will be truthful. I appreciate that. And know, regardless of how you feel about me, I will always care about you. I will always remember you. I will always think about you. I will never forget you.
Lila folded the letter and crammed it back into her pocket. She was the least truthful person she knew. She hadn’t been honest with Zane about her feelings for him. She hadn’t been honest with Reuben about her correspondence with Zane. And she hadn’t been honest with her Dat either.
She hurried into the restaurant. She did her best to keep smiling and get through her shift, but she wanted nothing more than to climb into her buggy and drive away—far away.
Of course she didn’t.
When she got home, Dat was still awake, sitting at the table. He held out his hand. “Give me the letter,” he said.
She did. Silently. She knew the less she said the better.
He read the letter once and then a second time. His face didn’t give away any of his emotions. Finally he said, “Does Reuben know Zane writes to you?”
Her face grew warm. “No,” she answered.
“Reuben thinks you plan to marry him in the fall.”
She nodded.
Dat put the letter back in the envelope and left it on the table. “I never expected this from you, Lila.”
She didn’t respond.
He stood. “I thought you were smarter than your mother and aunt.”
“This has nothing to do with Mamm or Aenti,” Lila said.
“This has to do with all of you being deceptive.”
“Mama and Aenti Eve weren’t deceptive. From everything I’ve heard they were more than honest.”
Dat shook his head. “You were too young. What would you know?”
“Probably more than I let on.” She sighed. “I do know that what I’ve done is wrong. I’ll take care of things with both Zane and Reuben.” She stepped toward her Dat. “I’m sorry for deceiving you too. It wasn’t honoring you—I should have been honest.”
He stared at her for a long moment and then said, “I appreciate that.” Without saying good-night, he stood and headed to the hall.
Lila collapsed into a chair. Worst of all she hadn’t been honest with God. She was the biggest liar she knew. Please forgive me, she prayed. She needed the community of her church, but she needed Christ’s salvation more. She’d always been a good girl, jah, but she was still a sinner. Maybe she hadn’t gone wild and run around, but she’d let fea
r control her.
She’d been afraid to give up Reuben and the security he offered. She’d been afraid of Dat’s disappointment. And she’d been afraid of the consequences of accepting—and returning—Zane’s love.
She’d been aware of Zane’s fears from the beginning, but she’d deluded herself by naming her fears “commitment.” And being responsible. And doing the right thing.
She didn’t want to marry Reuben. She didn’t love him. She couldn’t talk to him. He didn’t listen to her when she tried. She loved words and communicating. Sure, Reuben’s actions showed he was a good person, but she couldn’t live without having her soul fed. Without ideas and conversation. Without sharpening one another.
And even if she could talk to him, she doubted he’d truly ever hear her because she didn’t think he loved her either. He’d make someone a wonderful husband. But not her. Just like she wouldn’t make a good wife for him.
She loved Zane. Over three years had passed since he had joined the Army, since he’d left. Not a day had gone by that she didn’t think about him, that she didn’t long for him.
Zane made her feel more ferhoodled than anyone—but he made her feel. She had to have that in a marriage. He listened to her, he heard her. And he cared enough to go far away when she asked him to.
But she couldn’t marry Zane either, not without leaving the church. And she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t do that to her Dat, to her family. She’d rather not marry at all.
Nothing had changed—except for her realizing the damage she’d done to all of them.
A few minutes later, she finished her short letter to Zane, saying she wasn’t who he thought she was. She would no longer be able to write to him, and she hoped he could forgive her for not being a better friend.
She put it in an envelope, put a stamp on it, grabbed a flashlight from the mud porch, and then took the letter out to the mailbox and raised the flag.
Next she walked to the barn and left a message on the phone at the lumberyard, telling Reuben she needed to speak to him as soon as possible. “I have tomorrow off,” she said. “Leave a message and tell me when I can meet you.”
