“Really?” I lean forward with interest.
“Yeah.” She shrugs, leaning back into her pillows. “But I obviously didn’t like him well enough to stick around.”
“You think if you’d stayed here, you might’ve married Ezra’s dad?” I am incredulous.
“Well, he wasn’t Ezra’s dad back then, Shannon.”
“I know . . . but it’s weird.” Is it possible that Mom was in love with Ezra’s dad and now I’m in love with Ezra? Okay, I know saying I’m in love is pushing it, but I certainly do feel something.
Mom is still reclined on the pillows, but her eyes are fixed on me. “Why is it so weird, Shannon? Is there something about this Ezra fellow that I should know?”
“No, of course not.”
“Shannon?”
“He just seems like a nice boy, Mom. He helped me with the mower and was polite. That’s all.”
“How old is he?”
“I don’t know, Mom.”
“Your age?”
“I guess. I didn’t ask him.”
Mom studies me now.
“Don’t make this into a big deal,” I tell her. “An Amish boy was helpful and I appreciated it. End of story.”
She sighs and closes her eyes.
“I’ll let you rest now,” I say quietly.
“Don’t forget to talk to Mamm about moving over to Uncle Ben’s house.”
“Uncle Ben?” I laugh. “Like the rice?”
“Yeah.” She smiles sleepily. “Like the rice.”
I pick up her dishes and quietly go to the door, silently opening it and slipping out. I can’t help but see the irony of this—me falling for a boy that is the son of Mom’s old beau. But I don’t see any reason for Mom to get all up in arms about it. Would she try to put the brakes on a summer fling? Because as much as my optimist side is imagining Ezra and me, true love forever, my realist side knows that this is just something to brighten up my summer in Amishland. And really, don’t I deserve a break like this?
8
With both Mammi and Gramps out of the house in the afternoon, I decide to take my first bucket shower. My goal is to be clean and lovely for my date this evening. Okay, I know it’s not really a date. But meeting a guy like Ezra and taking a walk, well, I’m guessing by Amish standards, it might be a date. Not that I know much about such things yet.
To my relief, the cookstove is still quite hot, so I take in the water kettle from the kitchen and use it to fill the shower bucket along with some cold water. Then I refill the kettle and return it to what looks like the hottest spot on the stove. I hurry back to the bathroom and arrange my bath products and hair things on the narrow space next to the sink. Because I snuck a peek in Gramps’s shaving mirror, I know that my hair is a mess of grass and dirt, and the only way to remedy this is a shampoo. I also know that without electricity, I run the risk of looking like Little Orphan Annie, unless I use a good dose of conditioner and then comb my hair until it’s nearly dry, so it might not be so curly.
I’m right in the middle of conditioning my hair when my bucket runs dry. I wouldn’t mind rinsing in cold water, but I haven’t even gotten half of the grit off of me, and I wanted to shave my legs. Plus I’m sure that the kettle is probably warm now and might be just enough to finish up if I’m careful. I look at the sad excuse for a towel and wonder if it will even wrap around me, but knowing no one is in the house, I decide to give it a try. Wearing the tiny towel, I make a dash through the house and into the kitchen, and I’m reaching for the kettle when my grandfather opens the back door and steps into the kitchen.
He looks at me with a horrified expression, then turns around, marches out, and slams the door behind him. Feeling like a complete idiot, I grab the kettle and dash back to the bathroom. Okay, I’m sure I must’ve offended Gramps, but I can’t help but feel a little indignant. I mean, hello? If these people had proper plumbing or bigger towels or even electricity—well, give me a few basic amenities and we could’ve totally avoided that embarrassing incident altogether.
I finish my shower and am somewhat satisfied by the results. I got the general grime, grass, and sweat off, but my hair is going to pay the price. I suppose I should be thankful for the lack of mirrors in this house. As I sit on my floor bed with Mom soundly sleeping, I attempt to smooth out my hair and try not to obsess over Gramps and how I feel like he despises me. But it’s impossible to forget the disgusted looks he’s given me in the past twenty-four hours. For sure, I’m not eager to see him at the supper table tonight. I plan to keep my eyes on my plate while I’m eating. After that I’ll help Mammi do the dishes and then make myself scarce until Ezra shows up. It seems a doable plan.
To pass some time, I pull out my cell phone and turn it on. I want to text Merenda about my upcoming date with an Amish guy. I can imagine her shock to read it. She’ll think I’m making this up. To my relief there is still a little charge left in the battery. But to my dismay, there is no connection. I don’t know if that’s because of my cell server or because we’re out here in the sticks. I turn off my phone and toss it back into my purse. Talk about feeling totally cut off. I glance over at Mom, propped against the pillows that are propped against the wall. She reminds me of my cell phone—barely running and not connecting.
The evening meal is the quietest one so far. I can tell by my grandparents’ expressions they do not approve of my attire. I thought putting on my sundress might please them. I mean, it is a dress, after all. But Gramps gives me his disgusted look again. To say that I’ve worn out my welcome with this man is definitely an understatement. But with Ezra preoccupying my mind, I’m not sure I even care. After supper, I help Mammi wash up and then go to check on Mom. To my surprise, she is attempting to stand up.
“Do you need help?” I ask.
“I’m not sure.” She holds on to the wall to steady herself. “I was feeling a little better and I thought I should give this a try.”
I nod, watching as she works her way toward the door. She’s weaving a little but seems determined. I stay nearby, following her out of the bedroom, ready to catch her if she falls.
She makes it all the way to a chair in the living room, slowly sits down, and finally lets out a big sigh.
“Good job, Mom!” I grin at her.
“Oh, Anna,” Mammi says as she comes into the room. “You are up! Are you feeling better?”
“A little better,” Mom tells her.
Mammi sits down in a chair across from Mom, smiling with satisfaction. “It is like I told Jacob. Good food, fresh air, family . . . all are good for making you well again.”
Mom gives her an uncertain smile. “I hope you’re right.”
“Me too,” I agree.
“I told Shannon your idea for her to go stay with Benjamin and Katrina,” Mom tells Mammi.
“Ja.” Mammi nods eagerly. “It is a good idea. Rachel has a big room all to herself. You will share it with her.”
“Rachel?” I ask with hesitation. I didn’t realize I’d have to share a room with a stranger. Maybe I’d be better off here with Mom.
“Rachel is your cousin,” Mammi says.
“Oh.” I’m still trying to wrap my head around all these new relatives.
“Rachel is seventeen,” Mammi explains. “Only a year older than you. She is a good girl. I think you will be happy to know her.”
I give Mom an uneasy look. “What about you? Will you be okay without me?”
Mom looks a little uncertain but makes what seems a forced smile. “I am feeling better, Shannon. And Mamm will help me when I need it.” She looks at her mother now.
“You do not need to worry,” Mammi assures me. “Your mamm will be fine. I will take very good care of her. I will feed her good food, and she will soon be well again. You’ll see.”
“You’ll be much more comfortable at Ben’s house,” Mom tells me. “It’s the house I grew up in. It has four bedrooms.”
“Does it have indoor plumbing?” I ask. I remember Mom’s surp
rise to see indoor plumbing here.
“Ja,” Mammi says. “Katrina asked Benjamin to make some changes to the house.”
“Well, if you both think it’s a good idea, and if Uncle Ben agrees, I’m willing to stay over there. But I think we should wait until tomorrow.” I glance outside now, curious as to when Ezra will show up. Should I be waiting outside?
“Ja.” Mammi nods. “You and I will go over after breakfast in the morning, Shannon. I will introduce you to your relatives and speak to Katrina about this idea.”
“Then it’s settled,” Mom declares.
“Good,” I tell them. “Now, unless you need me, Mom, I’d like to take a little walk outside. The countryside is so pretty here. I thought I’d take my sketch pad and do some drawing.”
Mom looks pleased to hear this. “Yes, that’s a lovely idea, Shannon.”
“I will help Anna if she needs it,” Mammi assures me.
I go into my room and dig out my sketch pad and a pencil. This was a last-minute idea, but I think it’s perfect. By the time I’m going out the front door, Mammi is helping Mom into the bathroom. Suddenly I feel free—and it feels good.
I stroll outside with my sketch pad tucked under my arm. I pretend to be looking for something to draw, but I am glancing toward the barn where I suspect Gramps is probably working on something. I want to find a spot where his ever-present scowl and disapproving eyes cannot find me, yet I want to be visible to Ezra when he comes. Finally I decide to sit under a tree next to the pasture that’s between Ezra’s farm and my grandparents’ house. From this vantage point I can see my uncle Ben’s house too. It’s a tall white house just on the other side of the barn. I almost get the impression that the dawdi house (where my grandparents live) was positioned where it is in order to put the barn directly between the two houses. This way they’re near each other, but neither house is visible to the other.
I flatten down a section of tall pasture grass right next to the tree, then sit down, using the tree’s trunk as my backrest. I open up my sketch pad, pull out my pencil, and pretend to be sketching. I’m really keeping my eyes peeled for a certain young man in a broad-brimmed straw hat. I hope I’m not making too much of this. It’s possible that he’s simply being neighborly and trying to make me feel at home. However, I feel that it’s something more. I hope that it is. I can’t even explain the feeling I get just thinking about him. Oh, I know we live in totally different worlds, but in some ways I find that extremely romantic. Kind of like forbidden love. Like Romeo and Juliet. At least that’s how I’m imagining it.
The sun is getting lower now, and I’m getting worried that Ezra has forgotten all about me. Even so, I plan to remain out here until the sun sets. Maybe longer. It really is pretty and peaceful. Totally unlike home. I wonder if I could be happy living in a place like this. I almost think that I could, except for one thing: my grandfather. I feel certain that he hates me. In fact, I’m sure that’s the primary reason Mammi wants me to stay at Uncle Ben’s house. Gramps probably told her about me running around the house wearing only a towel. Yes, I’m sure they will both be glad to be rid of me.
I see something moving in the grass now. At first I think it’s a cow, but as it gets closer, I can tell it’s human. Then I can see that it’s Ezra. I suspect he can’t see me sitting in the shadows of this tree, so I stand and, stepping out, wave to him. He waves back and hurries toward me. I feel like I’m in a scene from a beautiful movie—the girl in the sundress stands under the oak tree as the handsome man rushes to sweep her into his arms. Of course, once he gets to the tree, there is no sweeping going on. Well, except in my heart. He has definitely swept that away.
“Hello,” he says shyly, removing his hat and holding it in his hands. “I wasn’t sure you’d really meet me.”
I hold up my sketch pad, trying to act nonchalant—and not like my heart is pounding happily inside of my chest. “I was just doing some drawing,” I tell him.
His eyes light up. “You’re an artist?”
I shrug. “Well, I love doing art.”
“Can I see your drawing?” he asks eagerly.
“Well, I—”
“Please,” he urges. “I would love to see it.”
I slowly flip open the pad, revealing the first page, which is a study of a park bench. I was working on shadows and light.
“That’s good.” He nods.
I flip to another and another, and each time Ezra praises my work with what seems genuine admiration. I feel like my heart is swelling inside of me. “Thanks,” I murmur as I finally close the pad.
“Want to walk over to the pond?” he asks.
“There’s a pond?”
“Ja. It’s shared by several farms.” He points to the east. “Over there.”
“Sure.” I nod. “I’d love to see it.” I hold up my sketch pad. “Maybe I’ll leave this by the tree and pick it up later.”
“Ja.” He waits as I set it there, then tosses his straw hat down next to it. “Right this way.” He holds out his hand like I’m supposed to take it, so I do—and a wonderful tingling rushes through me as our hands clasp. It runs like electricity from my head to my toes and back again.
“You are a very pretty girl,” he tells me as we walk together through the tall grass.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“When I saw you this morning, fighting with that push mower, you caught my eye.”
“You mean when I fell on my face?”
He laughs. “No. Although that was funny. But it was you that caught my eye. Your beautiful hair . . . and, you know, everything.” He squeezes my hand.
“Well . . .” I wonder how much I want to say. “You caught my eye too, Ezra. I mean, at first I thought you were my grandfather.” I giggle. “But that’s only because of your clothes. I’m still getting used to the way the Amish dress.”
“It’s a lot different than what you’re used to.”
“That’s for sure.” I look down at my sundress. “I think my grandfather is pretty unhappy with how I dress.”
Ezra chuckles. “I’m sure that is true.”
“I don’t understand why clothes are so important. It seems like what’s beneath the clothes should be more important.”
“Ja, I’d have to agree with that.” Ezra laughs.
Okay, I get it. He thinks I’m talking about our bodies. My mistake. “I mean what’s inside of us,” I clarify. “What kind of character we have, what sort of talents, what we believe . . . you know?”
“Ja. And the Amish do think those things are important too. In fact, the reason we dress like this is because it is supposed to reflect our insides.”
“How so?”
“It’s all about humility. We are supposed to be humble both on the inside and on the outside.”
“But why do people have to dress alike?”
“So no one stands out.”
“I suppose I stand out.”
He nods. “Ja. In a good way, though. Anyway, that’s how I see it.”
“You seem somewhat disenchanted with your lifestyle.”
He frowns but says nothing.
“Are you happy being Amish, Ezra?”
“I’m not sure. I guess it’s something I need to figure out.”
“How do you go about that? I mean, figuring it out.”
“It’s not easy.” He opens a gate. It’s part of a wire fence that’s surrounding some shrubbery. “The pond is in here. We keep it fenced so when the cows are in this field they can’t get into it.” He leads me through an opening in the bushes, and there before us is a big pond that’s reflecting the pinkish rays of the sunset.
“Oh, Ezra, this is beautiful,” I exclaim. “I would love to paint this.”
“You should paint it,” he tells me as he leads me over to a log, inviting me to sit with him.
“The way the light hits the pond,” I say. “The grasses growing all around it. Those willow trees over there. It’s really pretty.”
“I like
it.” He turns to face me now. “It’s almost as beautiful as you are, Shannon.”
I feel that warm rush running through me again. I cannot believe I am here with him like this, or the way he is looking into my eyes. It is magical, wonderful, intoxicating. He reaches over to touch my hair, running his fingers through my curls and smiling.
“Your hair in this light . . .” He sighs. “Beautiful.” He leans toward me, and suddenly he is kissing me, and I feel like I’m floating . . . like I’m in some kind of heaven . . . like I never want this moment to end.
But it does. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“Oh?” I keep looking at him, lost in those big brown eyes.
“I couldn’t help myself, Shannon. You’re so beautiful.”
“It’s okay,” I murmur.
He kisses me again and again, and it keeps getting better and better, and I feel myself being swept away. I mean really swept away. I realize that I need to slow this down. I pull away from him, struggling to catch my breath. “Oh . . .” I let out a long sigh.
“Ja.” He sighs too.
“Ezra,” I say, “that was really cool, but I feel like this is moving too fast.”
He nods, looking down at his hands in his lap. “Ja . . . I think you’re right.”
“I mean, I liked it,” I confess. “But, well, we only just met. And I really, really like you.”
“I like you too, Shannon.” He looks up into my eyes again. “I more than like you.”
I smile. “I more than like you too.”
He reaches over and touches my cheek. “I can hardly keep my hands off of you.”
“I know.” I giggle nervously. “But because I feel this way toward you”—I control myself from using the word love, although it’s all I can think of—“I want to get to know you better. In fact, I want to know everything there is to know about you, Ezra.”
“Ja. That’s how I feel too, Shannon. When you showed me your drawings, I felt like I was seeing inside of you.”
“I want to see inside of you too, Ezra. I want to know more about you.”
“Ask me anything,” he says eagerly. “I will tell you anything you want to know.”
My Amish Boyfriend Page 7
