Roman tapped the pencil on the homemade bench, thinking. “I’d thought so, but maybe I’m just afraid of losing Aden.” Why was he sharing the worst parts of himself with her?
He feared more than losing his brother’s brawn. They’d always shared everything, and then she came along. Did Annie know Aden like Roman did? That was impossible. Surely even in his love stupor, Aden realized that.
“I called to tell you something.” Her voice sounded different now. Maybe more distant. Maybe more intimate. He couldn’t tell.
He pushed the phone book farther back on the bench. “What, you mean there’s a world happening outside my own?”
She laughed, soft and whispery. “I know this sounds crazy, but I like your sarcasm.”
“I have a motto: anything worth taking seriously is worth making fun of. So, what’d you call to tell me?”
“Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.”
“What?”
“Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you’re a mile away, and you have their shoes.”
He laughed. “You called to tell me corny jokes?”
“Clearly I need a new joke book.” Marian laughed, and he heard a thud, as if she’d tossed the book to the ground. “Hey, you shared your stupid motto first. Besides, I’ve told them to everyone else. They ran away with my shoes.”
“You know, I needed this weird call from you.”
“Good. Then one of us got what they needed.”
For the first time in way too long, Roman seriously cared about what someone else needed. How had he turned into such a selfish person? “Is there something I can do for you … keeping in mind that I’m quite limited in my abilities?”
“One thing I wanted to say is that I accept your apology.”
Guilt pressed in. “I never gave one.”
“But you will one day, so I decided to accept it now. And you owe Aden and that Mennonite girl one too.”
“Aden’s just wrong. More wrong than me. I caused an argument between him and a girl he shouldn’t be seeing. He’s ripping families and friends apart, and a business, and will probably tear up two communities before it’s done.” He paused, wondering if that justified his actions. What was that saying—two wrongs don’t make a right? “But I’m really sorry I yelled at you. I was embarrassed about breaking the water pump. And I wanted to turn it into a fight with you so you’d walk away.”
“There are two theories to arguing with a woman, and neither one works.”
“Ya, they get over being angry and call anyway.”
She laughed. “So tell me, do you feel better than you did before we talked?”
“A lot.”
“But neither of us is moving. We’re being still, and we both feel better … because there is so much more to every person than what we can do physically.”
Her words stirred him, and he wanted to believe her, to believe he had all he needed in order to be someone’s other half. Arguments rose inside him, lashing against her romantic views. A few minutes of talking, however great, did not make up for all the lack he faced daily.
“That’s what I called to say. I’d better go, Roman. I just needed to say my piece, and I needed closure for us. I figured I might die of old age if I waited on you to reach out first.”
He didn’t want to hang up the phone or find closure. Marian seemed to understand him—and she wasn’t totally turned off by his disability. He wanted to ask if he could call her sometime. But he couldn’t get past what would lie down the road, beyond the entertaining phone calls and jokes. “Bye, Roman.”
“Bye.” He hung up the phone, reeling with thoughts of how weird and exhilarating Marian was.
What he’d done—or tried to do—to Aden weighed on him. But even as his conscience bothered him, his mind justified his actions and searched for another way to break up the two.
Some things, like a family business, were more important than a budding relationship that was forbidden for solid reasons.
Aden knocked on Moses’s door. Two nights ago Aden’s Daed had insisted he never see Annie again. He’d been taking time to think.
There was a lot against them, but the bottom line was that to continue seeing her, however secret they could keep it, would be selfish on his part. And dangerous for her and for his family’s business. He needed to face her and tell her the truth.
Steeling his resolve, he knocked on Moses’s door again, hoping he’d be out and Annie would answer. No such luck.
“Aden.” Annie’s grandfather appeared surprised to see him. This man had worked tirelessly beside Aden after the farming accident, and despite Moses’s gruff side, it’d once seemed that he truly liked Aden. But as the elderly man held on firmly to the door, blocking Aden from seeing inside his home, it was apparent that Moses no longer felt that way.
“Everything okay at the diner?” Moses asked.
“Ya. D-denki.”
Looking perplexed, Moses motioned. “Well, come on in.”
Aden entered the house, hoping to catch sight of Annie. He saw no sign of her.
Moses flipped a switch, filling the kitchen with artificial light. Aden thought it made the room feel more like a business than a home. He wondered what it was like to live in a house without kerosene lanterns and a wood-burning cookstove adding a touch of warmth to the place.
Moses poured himself a cup of coffee from the electric pot. He held up an empty cup, silently asking if Aden wanted him to fill it. Aden shook his head. Moses went to the table and took a seat, gesturing for Aden to do the same. “So what brings you here, boy?” He peered at Aden’s wringing hands. “Your Daed need me to help at the diner this week?”
“No. I c-came to talk about Annie.”
Moses’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“I …” Aden took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “I’ve b-been seeing her.”
“I figured that out already. You kept your hands off my granddaughter, Aden?”
“C-completely.”
Moses studied him, sizing him up and perhaps trying to decide if he was being honest. “Gut. That helps. Now, are you here to set things right between our families or make them worse?”
Aden fought to say the words that needed to be said, not the ones he wanted to say. “M-make them right.”
“Gut. I always did believe in you, Aden. You know that, right?”
“Ya.” He never doubted that Moses believed in him, in his ability to meet the needs of the diner as a scrawny teen and provide for his family. Aden used to rely on Moses’s confidence to get through the darkest of days.
Moses took his mug by the handle. “She ain’t been feeling too well lately. Hasn’t done much of anything the last couple of days. ’Cept for hanging out with the chickens.”
Aden had to take the blame for that. He never should have let her think there could be anything but friendship between them.
“She’s out there right now, matter of fact.” Moses stood and pulled a wicker basket from a low cupboard. “Might as well make yourself useful. Any eggs you find you can have for the restaurant.” He shoved the basket into Aden’s hands. “Shouldn’t take more’n a few minutes to gather eggs and deliver a message.”
Aden followed the noisy sound of clucking chickens to a grassy yard surrounded by a wire fence. Annie stood beside the coop, leaning against the wall and petting the wings of a black rooster with a bright red comb. She stared beyond the fence in the direction of the cherry tree orchard.
When he cleared his throat, she turned abruptly, her eyes wide. The startled rooster spread his wings, cackled, and flew into the little wooden house.
“Hello, Aden.”
Her words were familiar, but they had no hint of the warmth he’d grown used to hearing in her voice. However, he hadn’t come here to make amends. He’d come to set things right. Still, she had to be willing to hear him—despite all he’d never be able to say.
Since s
he didn’t come closer to him, he went inside the fence and held up the basket. “I c-came for some e-e-e-.” He hadn’t stuttered this much since she showed up at the diner that first day. He tried to think of a tune that would help him express what he really wanted to say. But no music played in his mind or heart.
Without a word she walked into the coop. He followed her, feeling like a lying hypocrite. How could he say good-bye when all he could think about was building a life with her?
She motioned to a row of nests. “Check the ones on the left side. They should have something for you.” She propped herself against the wall and crossed her arms.
Aden stared at the few hens sitting comfortably on their nests. He hadn’t a clue how to retrieve eggs from underneath a chicken. Would they peck at him for trying to steal their potential babies?
“What are you waiting for?” Annie said. “They’re not going to put their eggs in the basket for you.”
He tentatively approached the calmest-looking one. Her beady eyes seemed to stare at him, gauging his every move.
“Maybe my customers d-don’t need e-eggs this weekend after all.” He cleared his throat and put a tune to his words. “Ya, that’s it. Didn’t we read something last week about them being high in cholesterol? I might be doing my patrons a favor by not having eggs on the menu for a while. Or anything made with eggs.”
A glance at Annie told him his song and his hesitation amused her. It was the first trace of a smile he’d seen on her face since he’d walked up. He hated the idea of telling her they had to go separate ways, but he was determined to do it under friendly circumstances.
He maintained eye contact with the hen as he slipped his hand under her warm feathers and felt around. His fingertips encountered something hard and round. He wrapped his hand around it and inched it out. In his grip he saw a large beige egg.
Invigorated by his success, he flashed a grin at Annie.
She laughed. “Congratulations. You got one. But you’ll need a lot more than one for tomorrow’s crowd.”
She was softening toward him. Good. He might be able to say what he came to tell her after all.
But by the time he’d finished depriving the hens of their eggs, she’d gone back outside. He set the basket on a stool beside the coop and walked toward her. As he did, he heard a loud cough from inside the house. A glance that way revealed Moses watching through the window. Surely Aden’s allotted few minutes were up—and then some.
“Annie …” How could he tell her everything that was in his heart in such a short time? He couldn’t exactly break into song with her Daadi watching.
“It’s all right, Aden,” she said softly without turning around to look at him. “I was silly to think you cared for me.”
“But I d-do care.” He needed to explain everything. But he couldn’t do that with her grandfather watching them, counting the minutes.
With his back to the house, hoping Moses couldn’t see, he touched Annie’s arm and gently turned her to face him. He gazed into her eyes, praying that she’d look into his heart and read all the emotions he was still trying to sort out himself. “The sacrifice f-f-for you is huge.” He whispered the words. “Massive. Destructive.”
Her eyes misted. “I know. And you could have that other girl with no trouble piled onto that relationship.”
He longed to explain what Roman had lied about, but it’d take too many words. “She’s n-not important.”
Annie studied him.
“Ch-choosing.” He hoped she was familiar with that tradition.
“Oh.” She appeared to understand what he was saying, but the hurt didn’t fade from her eyes. “Daadi Moses let you come talk to me, so I guess you’re here to say good-bye.”
No part of him wanted to say good-bye. Maybe he was letting the requirements of others influence him too much. Had he even asked her what she wanted? Suddenly unwilling to walk away with only broken dreams, he reconsidered his plans. “Listen, Annie.” He glanced back at the house, wondering if he was making a mistake. Was it right to ask her to give up so much? It didn’t matter if he left his community or she left hers; either way, she’d lose the respect of her church and family. Still, it seemed right to let her choose. “I’m in love with you.”
Her eyes grew wide.
He took a step back. This wasn’t the time for an emotional reaction of some kind.
“Just think about the sacrifice b-being together would t-take, and then we’ll talk.”
“Tonight?”
Guilt stole his ability to think. He’d told Moses he’d come to set things right, and now he was making plans to secretly meet up with Annie. “Ya.”
A quarter moon played hide-and-seek behind the clouds as Annie wandered through her grandfather’s cherry tree orchard, inspecting the tiny buds on the dark branches. Any day now those buds would start to open, and soon the entire field would be transformed into a wonderland of pink-and-white cherry blossoms, filling the air with their sweet aroma. She admired one tree after another as she made her way down the rows.
Moses had been kind and gentle throughout the evening and had kissed the top of her head before going to bed. His tenderness added to her confusion concerning what to tell Aden. She couldn’t bear the thought of having to choose between her beloved grandfather and Aden.
She spotted Aden walking toward her, flanked by budding cherry trees, and she thought her heart might leap out of her chest. His steady countenance spoke of inner strength buried beneath a lifetime of inability to speak his feelings. She’d seen beyond those layers into a soul that was rich in compassion, faith, and staunch loyalty—to his family and to God. How she longed to help him bring those qualities to the surface where others could see what she saw in him.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered into the night air, silent but for the trilling of insects and the rush of water over stones.
His lips curved into a smile. “M-me too.”
They strolled along the trees in silence.
Aden picked up a stick. “We would have t-to weather a lot to be together, and it’s okay if you d-don’t want to go through that.”
Annie moved a low hanging branch out of the way, trying to draw the courage to say the words she needed to say. “Aden …”
He stopped and looked into her face. The moonlight reflected on his amber-colored eyes.
“I need more time before I know what to do,” she forced out.
He seemed unsure, but he nodded. “Okay.”
“It’s one thing to want something and another matter to be willing to destroy lives to get it.”
“Very true.”
Unable to look into his sorrowful eyes a moment longer, she focused on the nearest cherry tree, counting the number of buds on a single branch.
Aden moved beside her and intertwined his fingers with hers and squeezed gently. “But their wants aren’t the only ones that m-matter.”
“Even Roman’s?”
He pulled his hand free slowly, as if it were the last thing on earth he wanted to do. He didn’t answer.
How could she come between two brothers who loved and needed each other so much? And how would the rest of the Zook family be affected? She couldn’t expect Aden to leave his parents, his siblings, his business, and his faith for her … and she’d never ask him to. Such a thing would be a terrible wound, especially for Ellen. Annie couldn’t break her heart like that.
She didn’t care as much about the hurt this might cause her own mother. But what about her grandfather? Like any Plain man, Moses intended for his family to remain true to the faith they were raised in.
No matter how hard she tried, she could see no solution. But now she knew what her heart had known since she was fifteen—ignoring all family obstacles, Aden was the one for her.
“Enough seriousness.” Annie grabbed a flat rock. “Let’s go to the widest part of the creek, and I bet I can make a rock skip the most times before it reaches the other side.” She tossed the rock up and then
caught it, daring him to try to outdo her ability at the game.
Ellen’s husband snored softly as she got up. Unable to sleep, she slid into her housecoat and shoes before going downstairs. They’d worked so hard to keep their family intact, and now love threatened to rip it apart? It just didn’t seem right.
She went to the refrigerator and poured herself a cup of milk. A noise coming from the master bedroom caught her attention, and she went toward it. She and David slept upstairs in Aden and Roman’s old bedroom. The master bedroom, the one on the main floor with its own bathroom, was like a lot of things since the accident—it had to be given up for Roman’s sake.
Roman wheeled out of his room, wearing boxers and a T-shirt. His eyes met hers, and even in the dark she could see the taut lines across his face. She moved past him to peer into the bedroom. Aden wasn’t in bed. Roman’s bed was a wreck, and everything that had been on his side table was now scattered on the floor. “Is Aden home?”
Roman shrugged, but clearly he’d managed to get into his wheelchair by himself. Apparently, he hadn’t been in bed long enough for his muscles to become intolerably stiff.
“So suddenly you want to protect your brother?”
“What I want is for things to go back to the way they were before she arrived.”
Grief mixed with raw panic, making it hard for her to breathe. They’d have no way to make a living without the diner. “I need some fresh air.” She went to the door and stepped onto the porch, reminding herself to hold on to hope.
Roman came outside and parked his wheelchair near the porch swing. “What Aden’s doing isn’t right, Mamm.”
She sat and rocked, asking God to give her the right words. “We don’t need to talk about him right now. I want to know what’s going on with you.”
Roman stared at the stars for a long moment. “I’m like you—just worried about what Aden is doing, the problems it’ll cause for all of us.”
The Scent of Cherry Blossoms: A Romance from the Heart of Amish Country Page 10
