by Amy Clipston
Well, I’m going to close for now. It’s getting late, and I’m tired.
Please tell everyone hello for me.
With love,
Lindsay
Lindsay wrote a similar letter to Lizzie Anne and then folded both of them up. Cupping her hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn, Lindsay climbed the deck stairs and then entered the house through the sliding glass door. She stepped into the family room and found Frank still working on his computer in front of the television.
Glancing up, he smiled. “Did you have a nice time out on the beach?”
“I did,” Lindsay said. “It’s beautiful out.” She held up her notepad. “I wrote a couple of letters to my friends.” She yawned. “It’s getting late. I think I need to shower and get to bed.”
“You do that,” he said with a nod. “You worked hard today.”
“Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night,” he said. “Thank you for all you’re doing to help us.”
“You’re welcome.” Heading down the hall, Lindsay yawned again. She would sleep well tonight after all the excitement of the evening. After placing her letters in envelopes, she sealed and addressed them. She then grabbed her pajamas and undergarments and headed down the hall toward the shower.
12
The following evening, Lindsay gnawed on her bottom lip and stared at the familiar brick colonial while sitting in Frank’s Suburban parked out front. A herd of sedans and SUVs clogged the long driveway in front of the two-story house.
Loud music blared from the backyard as young women in string bikinis and young men in swim trunks paraded past the fence. Some were laughing and others were dancing. Anxiety surged through her, and her heart pounded in her chest.
“Lindsay?” He touched her arm. “You okay?”
“I’m not like them,” she said. “Our youth gatherings back home are very different. We sing hymns and never listen to music or dance. We talk about our families and work, and we don’t ever get rowdy.”
He pointed toward the fence. “I’m certain those young people in there are talking about their families and work. They may sing a different kind of music, but inside we’re all the same, right?”
She nodded.
“Now go on.” He gestured toward the house. “Get on in there before I push you out the door,” he joked with a grin.
She gave a little nervous laugh. “Okay.”
“Call me when you’re ready for me to pick you up.” He leaned on the steering wheel. “I’ll be up late working on my computer, so don’t feel like you have to leave before eleven. I’m a night owl, and any time is fine with me.”
She gripped the door handle. “Wish me luck.”
“Honey, you don’t need luck,” he told her. “You’ll do just fine. Go have some fun. You deserve it after working so hard at our place. It’s time for a little R&R.”
“Thanks.” Lindsay wrenched the door open and climbed from the truck. Her heart thumped in her chest as she gripped her soft beach towel and weaved through the knot of cars toward the back gate.
Behind her, the Suburban motored down the street, the horn tooting before it disappeared around the corner.
She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath.
Great. Now I’m trapped here.
With a shaky hand, she approached the gate and peered over at the throng of young men and women talking, dancing, eating, and swimming. A concrete patio spilled out from a large deck and surrounded a vast in-ground pool that included a deep and shallow end, along with a diving board. Several lounging chairs and a couple of chairs with umbrellas dotted the pristine concrete. A small pool house sat at the back corner of the yard.
The smell of cooking hamburgers filled Lindsay’s senses, and she smiled, remembering the barbecues she’d enjoyed with her parents over the years. Turning toward the deck, she spotted three young men standing around a grill while smoke poured out from under it, indicating that burgers were cooking. A long table covered with platters of food, bowls of chips, beverages, plates, and cups stood nearby.
The music continued to blare, and she wondered if any of them could even hear anyone else talking. She glanced across the concrete and found Vicki standing with a group of bikini-clad girls. Vicki wore a short yellow sundress with her blonde hair falling in curls past her bare shoulders. Lindsay spotted the same bright pink bathing suit straps poking out from under Vicki’s dress that she’d noticed the previous day at the grocery store.
Vicki’s gaze met Lindsay’s and she ran toward the fence. “Lindsay!” she cried, pulling her into a quick hug. “You made it. I was beginning to think you flaked out on me.”
“Well, I —” Lindsay began.
Taking Lindsay’s arm, Vicki yanked her toward the other party guests, causing Lindsay to stumble without finishing her sentence.
“Follow me,” Vicki instructed, dragging Lindsay past a group of young people standing near the pool drinking from plastic cups. A few of the curious faces looked familiar, but the names escaped Lindsay.
“Heather is so excited to see you! I told her all about how we ran into each other in Bloom.” She pulled Lindsay toward a group of young women at the far end of the pool. “How wild was that, right? I mean, I haven’t seen you in four years, and I run into you while I’m picking up chips and dip for my party. Such a crazy coincidence.”
They came to stop in front of a group of girls sitting at a round table with an umbrella in the middle. Lindsay immediately recognized her old friend, Heather Fernandez.
“Lindsay! How are you?” Heather said, leaping up from her chair and rushing toward her. She was dressed in short shorts that came to her mid-thigh and a blue bikini top with her dark brown hair cut short. Makeup accentuated her deep brown eyes, high cheekbones, and red lips.
Lindsay briefly wondered if she was breaking dress code by wearing a one-piece plain black bathing suit under her denim jumper since she was the only female not wearing a bikini.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Lindsay said. “You look fantastic.”
“You do too,” Heather said, her curious gaze sweeping over Lindsay’s attire.
Vicki touched Lindsay’s arm. “Would you like a drink? I’m going to go check on Brandon at the grill. I can pick up a drink for you while I’m over by the food.”
“Sure.” Lindsay folded her arms across her chest.
“We have punch,” Vicki said as she started toward the deck. “Or Coke.”
“Oh,” Lindsay said. “How about a Coke?”
Heather held up her plastic cup as if to toast Lindsay. “The punch is good.” She grinned, angling her cup closer to Lindsay. “Want to try it?”
“No, thanks,” Lindsay said quickly. “A Coke would be great, though.”
“Be right back!” Vicki called, heading toward the deck.
Lindsay felt as if her security had evaporated as soon as Vicki stepped away. She glanced between the three women at the table, giving them an unsure smile while shifting her weight on her sneakers.
“Lindsay, this is Robin and Marci,” Heather said.
Lindsay gave them each a half wave. “Nice to meet you.”
The girls nodded and then sipped their drinks.
Heather motioned toward a chair across from her. “Have a seat. I want to hear all about what you’ve been doing for the last four years.”
Lindsay sank into the chair, feeling as if she were on trial. Now the tough questions would be hurled at her.
“So, what are you up to these days?” Heather asked, lifting her cup to her mouth.
“Oh, not too much.” Lindsay fingered the armrests of the cool metal chair. “I’m still living with my aunt in Pennsylvania. I love it there.”
“Great.” Heather smiled. “I guess you’re leaving for college soon, right?”
Lindsay shook her head. “No.”
“Oh. So you’re going to college nearby?”
“No.” Lindsay absently touched her ponytail, which fell past he
r shoulders. She needed to take the focus off herself. “How about you? Where are you going to school?”
Heather smiled with pride. “UVA.”
“That’s fantastic.” Lindsay glanced toward Robin and Marci, who looked bored. “How about you two?”
“I’m going to Longwood,” Robin said, pointing to herself. She then gestured toward Marci. “She’s going to William & Mary.”
“That’s so exciting.” Lindsay plastered a smile on her face.
Heather looked curious. “You’re not going to college?”
Lindsay shook her head.
“How come?” Marci asked, looking equally intrigued.
“I’m working for the family business,” Lindsay said, crossing her legs.
“Which is …?” Marci prodded.
“A bakery.”
“Bakery?” Heather asked.
Vicki reappeared and handed Lindsay a can of Coke before sitting next to her. “Brandon’s still on the deck cooking and talking with his buddies. I wanted to be sure he didn’t take off without telling me where he’s going.”
“You need to stop being his babysitter,” Heather warned with a sharp expression. “You’re going to smother him before you even leave for Oregon.”
Vicki glared at her friend. “And you need to mind your own business.”
Lindsay sipped from her can. Although the disagreement made her uncomfortable, it was less painful than the cross-examination she’d endured in Vicki’s absence.
“You’re working in a bakery?” Marci asked, steering the conversation back to Lindsay.
Lindsay swallowed a groan. “Yes, that’s right.” She sipped her drink.
“Is it like a specialty bakery or something?” Marci asked, looking as if she were trying to figure out why Lindsay would work there.
“Yes,” Lindsay said. “It’s Amish.”
“Amish?” Heather asked. “Why do you work at an Amish bakery?”
“Wait.” Robin held up a hand like a traffic cop. “You said it’s a family business. So, is your family, like, Amish?”
Lindsay nodded.
“That explains the clothes,” Robin muttered.
Lindsay felt her cheeks heat, and she considered leaving the table and slipping out the gate.
“That’s rude,” Vicki snapped.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Robin said, holding up her cup for emphasis. “I just meant that she’s dressed very conservatively, and I was wondering why. I mean, it’s like almost one hundred degrees out, and she’s wearing a denim jumper with a short-sleeved blouse.”
“I have my bathing suit on under my blouse and jumper,” Lindsay said before sipping her Coke.
“Did you see Jason Klein is here?” Vicki asked Robin. “I saw him come in with Ray Smith.”
“No!” Robin said. “I should go ask him if he misses me yet.”
Marci looked alarmed. “Don’t do that! Then you’ll look desperate.”
“So?” Robin pushed her dark hair off her shoulder with a dramatic toss. “He’ll realize what he lost when he broke up with me for that loser Shannon Wright.”
The girls laughed, and Lindsay ran her fingers over the cold can. She was glad that the focus of the conversation was off her, but she felt out of place. They were talking about people she didn’t know.
A cell phone sang out in the melody of a rock song, and Robin pulled the phone from the pocket of her shorts. She answered it and then walked across the yard toward an empty corner of the fence while motioning for Marci to follow.
“Nice to meet you,” Marci said to Lindsay before she left the table.
Vicki blew out a frustrated sigh as she dropped onto a chair next to Heather. “I’m sorry Robin is so thoughtless and rude. Sometimes I wonder if she was raised by wolves.”
Lindsay chuckled. “It’s okay. I know I look different, to say the very least.”
Heather shook her head. “Still, that’s no reason to be rude. I think your jumper’s kinda cute.”
“Thanks,” Lindsay said, placing the can on the end table beside her. “You must be excited about leaving for college.”
Heather shrugged. “Yeah. I still have a ton of things to do.” She looked at Vicki. “We need to go shopping. Are you free tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” Vicki looked at Lindsay. “You could come too.”
“Oh yeah,” Heather agreed.
“Thanks. I’ll have to see what Uncle Frank is doing,” Lindsay said. “I’m here to take care of Aunt Trisha, so I can’t just take off.”
“Your aunt and uncle live in Virginia Beach?” Heather asked.
Lindsay explained her connection to Frank and Trisha and told them about Trisha’s accident. They listened intently and seemed interested. Lindsay felt more at ease with her old friends.
“I hope she feels better soon,” Heather said. “My little brother broke his leg last year, and he was in a lot of pain. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
“Right,” Vicki said. “So, tell us about the bakery where you work.”
“Yeah,” Heather chimed in. “What kind of food do you make? I bet it’s delicious.”
Lindsay found herself prattling on about the treats in the bakery and the wonderfully warm Kauffman family. While she talked, Heather and Vicki smiled and nodded, and Lindsay began to relax.
Heather asked questions about the Amish beliefs and clothing, and Vicki wanted her to tell them about the members of the Kauffman family. Lindsay smiled as she shared how much she loved being a part of the family and then told them about her friends. She also explained that the Amish didn’t believe in education beyond the eighth grade.
“So, the Amish don’t go to college?” Heather asked.
Lindsay shook her head. “No, they don’t. They graduate from an Amish one-room schoolhouse when they’re fourteen.”
Heather looked fascinated. “And they really live without electricity?”
“That’s right,” Lindsay explained.
“How do you dry your hair?” Vicki asked.
“I wash it and let it air dry.” Lindsay shrugged. “It doesn’t matter because we always wear it up in a tight bun under our prayer covering.”
“Prayer covering?” Heather asked.
“You know,” Vicki said, smacking Heather on the arm. “We’ve seen the Mennonites at Walmart before. They wear those little white bonnets on top of their heads.”
“Prayer covering,” Lindsay corrected. “It’s the Amish culture to always have our head covered. The Bible says that women should have their heads covered when they pray, so we’re always ready to pray at any time.”
“Interesting,” Heather said. “Do you like wearing it?”
Lindsay nodded. “Yes, I do. I actually sort of miss wearing it since I’ve been here. It sort of gives me security.”
“That’s interesting,” Heather said.
“So you always wear your hair up?” Vicki asked.
“Yes, and we never cut it.” Lindsay pulled her long ponytail over her shoulder.
“And you never cut it,” Vicki repeated. “Wow. I bet your aunt’s hair is super long, huh?”
“It is,” Lindsay said. “It’s almost to her waist.”
“Do Amish kids date?” Heather asked.
Vicki laughed. “Of course they do. How else would they get married, dummy? They have to date first!”
Lindsay snickered as Heather glared at Vicki.
Vicki turned back to Lindsay. “How do Amish kids hook up?”
“What do you mean?” Lindsay asked, lifting her Coke can.
“They obviously can’t go to concerts or the movies,” Heather quipped. “How do you meet?”
“We have youth gatherings on weekends,” Lindsay said.
“What are those like?” Vicki asked, placing her cup on the outdoor coffee table.
“We go to someone’s farm on a Sunday night, and we have what we call a singing,” Lindsay said. “We all bring food to share, and we sing hymns and visit.”
&n
bsp; “No rock or any other instrumental music, right?” Heather asked. “And no dancing, like that old movie with Kevin Bacon?”
Lindsay nodded.
“But you date, right?” Heather asked. “There’s some form of getting to know the opposite sex.”
“If a boy wants to court you,” Lindsay began, “he’ll ask to give you a ride home in his buggy. But you have to join the church before you can date. And if you date, it’s assumed that you’ll marry, so it’s taken very seriously.”
“They use buggies?” Heather asked.
“Right,” Lindsay said. “It’s a horse-drawn buggy. The courting buggy is open air, meaning that it doesn’t have sides or a roof.”
Vicki raised an eyebrow. “Wow. So he asks to give you a ride home in order to confess his love for you, huh? Has anyone ever asked you?”
Lindsay felt her cheeks heat. “I was asked once, but I turned him down.”
Vicki and Heather gasped in unison.
“You turned him down?” Heather asked. “Why would you do that?”
“Was he unattractive?” Vicki chimed in.
Lindsay smiled as she thought of Matthew. “He’s very handsome, and he’s smart and talented. He works with my uncle at the furniture shop.”
“What’s his name?”
“Matthew,” Lindsay said. “He moved to our community four years ago. He’s really nice and sweet. We’re really good friends.”
Vicki and Heather exchanged knowing glances.
“What?” Lindsay asked.
“You like him,” Vicki said.
“And it sounds like he likes you,” Heather added. “But you’re hesitating. Why?”
“I would have to join the church before we could date,” Lindsay explained. “I’m not sure I’m ready to do that.”
“What does joining the church mean?” Vicki asked.
Lindsay finished her soda and placed the empty can on the table. “It means that you commit yourself to God and the church, and you can’t change your mind. If you do, then you’re shunned.”
Heather grimaced. “That’s kind of harsh, don’t you think?”
Vicki shook her head. “That’s their culture.”
