She frowned. “That little problem brought the whole farm to a halt?”
“Don’t be fooled, Marian.” He sounded as unyielding as the iron in his hand, and he wondered if it bothered her. “A tiny fracture can ruin the strongest thing on this planet—be it an element of nature, man-made, or man himself.”
She removed the new water pump from its opened box and turned it one way and then the other, studying it.
“Be careful with that.” He removed the last of the four bolts and separated the fan from the water pump. “It may be the last of its kind.”
“It doesn’t look new.”
“It’s not. But it’s solid.”
Once they’d figured out the problem, Ernie’s Englischer mechanic had spent a full day searching the Internet and making calls to find a replacement water pump. After he’d found one, he had FedEx overnight it, and it’d been delivered this morning. Even though it wasn’t new, it was sound and should last for years, giving Ernie time to save enough money to replace the generator.
She set it on the table. “Things ended on an awkward note the other night.”
“I know. I was there.”
“But for the life of me, I can’t figure out what went wrong.”
Roman scoffed. “It all started when you insisted I come to your place to pick you up.”
“That’s how dates work.”
Roman faced her squarely. “Look at me, Marian. I don’t work normal.”
“Then you should have said so,” she snapped. “You balked at coming to get me, and I asked if there was a problem. If you had answered honestly, we would’ve made other plans.”
“It doesn’t matter now.” He wheeled himself to the far end of the table and picked up the small can of High Tack. “We had an awful time, and you get to blame me. Are you done with your pity dates for the year, or do I have to go through that one more time just to prove that you don’t have the heart for cripple dating?”
“You know, Roman,”—she grabbed the arm of his wheelchair and turned him to face her—“I had a pretty nice time, but I really appreciate knowing you didn’t.”
Roman set the can in his lap and leaned away from her. She’d had a nice time? He had, but he’d assumed …
She released his chair. “The problem isn’t that you were dishonest with me or that you’re in a wheelchair.”
He didn’t know where she was heading with her argument, and he didn’t want to know. Whether she admitted it today or next month, he knew they had no future. “I’m glad you have me all figured out, Marian, but I’ve got too much to do and no time for your opinion on my problems.”
He went around her and returned to the generator. He opened the small can and used the attached brush to apply the sealant between the gasket and the mounting surface.
“Roman.” Marian sounded dismayed. “Is that it? One date that didn’t work out and you’re giving up?”
“You can’t tell me what I should do, think, or feel. You’re not the one sitting in this chair, needing someone to help get you up in the morning or in and out of rigs or into homes because steps block the way.”
He grabbed the cast-iron water pump by the shaft. It rotated, pinching his fingers, and he jerked his hand away. The pump fell onto his knee before it crashed to the floor.
Marian rushed to his side. “Are you hurt?”
The water pump lay on the concrete floor, a few mounting pieces scattered. Nausea roiled, and he feared he was about to throw up on her. He bent, reaching as far as he could, trying to grab it.
Marian picked it up and handed it to him. A jagged line ran the length of it, and his heart sank. He brushed his fingers over the fracture. “It’s ruined.”
Marian jerked straight pins from her apron and took it off. She folded it and held it out to him. “Put this on your leg and press down.”
He looked where the ten-pound iron pump had banged into his knee and saw blood seeping through his pants. He had diminished feeling in his thighs, but his emotional turmoil was what had kept him from noticing it until now. Instead of taking the apron, he backed away from her. “Just leave. Please.”
“No. We need to go inside and get your leg cleaned up and bandaged.”
“Marian, this is a disaster. My uncle is counting on me, and that pump was his only hope.”
She put her apron back on, avoiding eye contact with him. “If that man found one pump, I’m sure he can find another. But right now, that’s not the problem. Your leg is.”
“Marian, look at me!”
When she did, he saw more strength in her than in himself.
He clutched the hand rims of his wheelchair. “I’m not joking around.” He moved himself a little closer, trying to look assertive. “Go away.”
She peered down at him, looking both sincere and angry. “Now I understand why you didn’t have enough to say to keep on writing. You’re not the same Roman I knew.”
He scoffed. “You just figured that out? You must’ve graduated at the top of your class.”
She started to leave, then turned to him. “If you ever grow up and let go of self-pity, let me know.”
He held up his hand. “Just go, Marian. Nothing about me will ever change for the better.”
She stared at him for a moment before leaving and closing the door behind her.
He looked at his bleeding leg. As soon as Marian left the farm, he’d go inside and tend to it.
The broken water pump in his hand mocked him. Ernie had trusted him to fix the generator, and all he’d managed to do was make things worse. How was he going to tell his uncle?
The wooden stairs creaked mercilessly as Annie tiptoed down them in the dark. Once at the bottom, she crept slowly toward the back door. The old farmhouse moaned with every move she made, as if she weighed hundreds of pounds. And with guilt strapped to her back, she felt as heavy as an elephant.
She turned the old black doorknob. Daadi once said that the brass had been shiny in its day. But now the doorknob was discolored and wobbly, and the skeleton key had long ago been lost, so the door was always unlocked.
Stepping onto the back porch, she eased the door shut. Once across the back porch, she hurried down the steps. The night air seemed even warmer this evening. Stars shone brightly overhead, and in the distance she could see the silhouette of branches against the foggy sky.
As she walked toward the orchard, her guilt gave way to excitement. After Aden had given her the picture earlier today, she wanted to see him more than she’d ever wanted anything. Wrong as it might be, she could not be controlled by the remorse she had for her actions. They were both believers in God’s Word. How wrong could they be to fall in love?
In the distance she spotted Aden’s rig parked in the same place as before. She scanned the orchard and thought she saw movement in the fog near the creek bed. Heading that way, her heart pounded like crazy. It wasn’t like her to do anything behind people’s backs. She had always been open and honest … well she had with her outward actions, but she’d also carried a smoldering flame for Aden for quite a while.
“Hello, Annie.” Aden was singing an unfamiliar tune. “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”
She spun around. “Where are you?”
He stepped out of the mist, causing a swirl of fog around him. “Here.” He motioned for her. “I want to show you something.”
She walked beside him, wondering the name of the song he was using to fill with his own words. It seemed both haunting and feathery light.
Once near the creek, they stepped onto a large rock. “I can hardly see anything.”
“Make sure your feet are planted firmly, and we won’t move from here until time to leave.” He towered over her, his body mere inches away, emanating kindness and patience.
“Aden?” She wanted to know what they were doing, but they both knew. They were breaking the rules and falling in love.
“What is it, my friend?” He sang, using a tune that gave his words an unusual, rhyth
mic cadence.
She wouldn’t ask him questions about things neither of them was ready to talk about. “I don’t know that tune. Where did you hear it?”
“Mamm taught it to me years ago. She said that when she was a little girl, she went with her mother to clean houses for an Englischer woman, and the woman always had a John Denver record playing. Mamm sang one of the songs to Roman and me over and over when we were little. I’d forgotten about it until you returned. It’s called ‘Annie’s Song.’ ”
“There’s a song with my name in it?”
“I don’t think the lyrics have your name. Just the title.”
“I like the tune.”
“The music fits you, Annie.” His whisper entered her, changing her somehow.
“Sing it for me.”
He stood on the rock, singing softly, painting beautiful images about mountains and springtime, a walk in the rain, and a storm in the desert. He hummed a few lines, and she thought maybe he’d forgotten the lyrics, but then he sang a line about giving his life to her, drowning in her laughter, wanting to die in her arms. When he stopped, she longed to hear it again. But words failed her, and she stood in silence.
The real world seemed distant. Even the cherry tree orchard didn’t look the same as she and Aden stood side by side. Guilt nibbled, but she longed for a thousand nights with Aden. Tens of thousands, really.
And it scared her. “Aden, what are we doing?”
“Look around you, Annie.” He spoke softly, without stumbling over his words. “We’re in a fog. But we’re together. That’s all I need.”
Calmness poured over her.
Was this love? Connecting with someone in a way that was impossible with all others? If so, she was glad she hadn’t let Mamm pressure her into settling for Leon. How awful to think about, now that she’d experienced the thrill of a heart-pounding bond. She willed herself not to care who approved or disapproved of their seeing each other.
He made no effort even to hold her hand. She trusted that he was respecting the ways of her people and their policy of hands-off dating only. That teaching was as old as the Mennonite faith itself. In the strictest sense, the church taught that couples weren’t even to hold hands until they were wed. But the Amish allowed rumschpringe.
“How many girls have you courted?”
He shrugged, clearly not wanting to talk about it.
“I’ve dated before.” She shuddered. “Mostly it was awful. Ever been on a terrible date when you couldn’t wait until it was over?”
“N-no.”
“You’re lucky. That’s all I’ve ever had until this week. When I joined the church at seventeen, I was so excited at the prospect of dating. I’ve only dated one guy, but I quickly decided that a dead fish has more personality than we did together.”
He chuckled.
“Mamm was disappointed when I stopped seeing him.” Annie shuddered at the thought of Mamm discovering her interest in Aden.
Her family would be just as upset with her seeing someone Amish as they would be if she decided to leave the church and chase after the world. When she thought about the seriousness of the vow she’d taken, she understood how they could feel that strongly. Even so, caring for Aden couldn’t be compared to pursuing lusts. But folks would see it in the same light, and the Mennonites were as firm in their beliefs as the Amish were in theirs.
Worse, thunder would shake the ground for years to come if Daadi Moses found out. And if she didn’t end it with Aden immediately, Daadi, the church, and the entire Mennonite community would disown her.
Her good mood threatened to disperse like fog under the morning sunlight. She tugged on Aden’s coat sleeve and then got off the rock and moved away from the creek. “I should get back.”
Walking side by side, they meandered through the orchard until her grandfather’s house came into sight. “You should go now.”
He kept walking beside her. “M-meet me in the orchard tomorrow night?”
As he studied her, she knew she’d not refuse him. “Okay. Good night, Aden.” She turned to go toward the house and glanced at her Daadi’s bedroom window. Certain she saw curtains shift, fear rippled through her.
Ellen wished she was pounding a batch of bread dough as her brother explained over the phone what had happened to Roman.
Her son had failed. The gash in his leg would heal, not as quickly as it would for someone with mobility, but with proper care it wouldn’t become a problem. What she couldn’t do anything about was his inability to fix the generator. She’d sent him to Ernie’s, positive he’d return with dignity and excitement at what he could accomplish. Instead, a driver would pull up in the driveway within the hour, and Roman would arrive home defeated.
Ernie apologized and told her they’d done all they could to assure Roman it wasn’t his fault and it wasn’t a big deal.
But it was. And everyone knew it.
“My Englischer friend couldn’t find another water pump, so I’ll go to the bank on Monday and begin the process of trying to secure a loan.” Her brother tried to sound upbeat.
“You could ask the community to help.”
“You know the collective fund is for emergencies, when a family has no other options. I’m not there … yet.”
Ellen said good-bye and hung up. Weariness wrapped around her shoulders as she left the phone shanty. She stood beside her barren garden, praying for strength.
“Mamm?” Arie called. “I have soup and sandwiches ready. Daed helped me some.”
Her ten-year-old daughter sounded pleased with her accomplishment. Arie’s older sister usually made lunch for the family on Saturdays, but Mary was at the restaurant today, helping Aden. “Coming.”
The moment Ellen walked in and her husband caught a glimpse of her, concern lined his face.
“Mamm, look.” Arie stood at the head of a perfectly set table. “I did it by myself.”
“Very nice, dear. Denki.”
David came to her. “Ellen, what’s wrong?” Her husband’s whisper gave her strength.
“Roman dropped the replacement water pump, and it broke. He’s on his way home. As soon as the children are finished eating, one of us needs to take them to the diner so the other can have a bit of time alone with Roman.”
“I think he’s most likely to hear you.” He kissed her cheek. “We’ll get him through this. You know we will.”
She nodded, more to assure him than anything. Her mother heart broke for her son.
Lunch passed smoothly, then she helped David hitch a horse to a carriage and get their four youngest children seated inside the rig.
They’d barely pulled onto the road when a driver arrived with Roman. She hurried to the passenger door and opened it. When his eyes met hers, she saw the rawness of his pain.
Mamm kissed his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home. We missed you.”
“Denki, Mamm.” His voice carried so much gloom it didn’t even sound familiar.
She stepped back as the driver handed her Roman’s traveling bag and then lifted him into the wheelchair. Roman paid him, saying thanks. Mamm set the bag on the sidewalk and faced him.
She stared into his eyes, feeling tears well. “I’m sorry, Roman.”
For a brief moment she saw a man too broken to respond. His eyes misted. “Me too.”
She studied him, looking for signs of hope or strength to build on, but she saw none.
“What are you doing, Mamm, praying for a miracle that’ll get me out of this wheelchair?”
During the first few weeks after the accident, she’d prayed night and day for divine healing for both her son and her husband. “No. You are already a miracle. You survived, and you’ve helped this family survive.”
He lowered his eyes, tears falling. She knew he wasn’t convinced that his being alive was a gift to anyone, most of all to himself.
“Kumm.” Mamm moved behind him, took hold of the handgrips, and pushed him up the ramp and into the house. The place smelled of freshl
y perked coffee and pie, both of which she’d begun preparing after Ernie had called. She released his chair and took off her sweater. “Are you hungry?”
He shook his head and wheeled farther into the house. She went to the stove and poured him a cup of coffee.
When she set the steamy mug at his place on the kitchen table, he moved into the one spot that hadn’t held a chair in five years. She removed the ground cherry pie from the oven, cut two slices, and set them on the table. After passing him a fork and napkin, she took a seat.
He sipped the coffee a time or two as the minutes ticked by. “I can’t stop wishing things … wishing I was different.” He stared at the black liquid in his cup. “Daed hobbles through his days. Aden stutters, when he talks at all. And I’m in this contraption.” He fidgeted with the mug, looking lost inside himself. “I guess God doesn’t do miracles for people like us.”
It was the first time in years he’d mentioned his disappointment in God saving his life but not the use of his legs. She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “Roman, my prayer for you isn’t for a miraculous healing of your spinal cord. It’s for you to be healed of blindness so you can see your life through faith.”
He picked up a fork and poked at the dessert. “Ya, whatever.” After several long minutes, he put down his fork. “Tell me the truth, Mamm. Doesn’t it bother you that we look like a bunch of cursed idiots to everyone around us?”
“The absolute truth?”
“Ya.”
“Not one iota. Some families are handsome and look perfect. Some are wealthy. Some are particularly smart. Some are homely. Poor. Not too bright. And some struggle no matter how hard they try. But we all have one thing in common—not one person or family is worth anything unless they’re walking by faith.”
“Faith.” He said it as if it were a foreign word he was trying to understand. “Belief in what we can’t see.” He mumbled the words, sounding confused.
“The passage that says faith believes in what it can’t see means much more than believing in an invisible God. It also includes having faith in the things about yourself and your life that are hidden from view.”
The Scent of Cherry Blossoms: A Romance from the Heart of Amish Country Page 7
