On her way to wash up for lunch, Charlie heard the clomp and swish of heavy footsteps from Mickey’s room. He’d been missing most of the morning. He must be practicing walking with his braces. Charlie had no doubt he would climb up the ramp to his carriage eventually if only to prove to Hank that he could.
After lunch, Charlie knocked on Mary Anne’s door. “Ready for the big expedition?”
Mary Anne had pulled on a long-sleeved shirt and tied one of her silk kerchiefs over her hair. “Charlie, I’ve been thinking.”
Uh-oh. Cold feet. Not surprising.
“I’ll have to wear one of those net caps under my wig, right?”
Charlie nodded.
“I was watching you trim the horses before lunch. I think you should shave my head.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Mary Anne pulled off her kerchief. The hair that remained on the left side of her scalp sprouted among her scars like weeds in a fallow field. She shrugged. “People will think I’m having chemo.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, but if I hate it, what hair I have will grow back.”
“Your hair, your call. I’ve got a small pair of electric clippers in the tack room. I’ll go get them.”
When Charlie returned with the clippers, she had Sarah with her. Mary Anne sat at the student desk, facing away from the mirror, and Sarah held her hand while the clippers whirred.
“Okay, you can look now,” Charlie said, and swiveled the chair around.
Mary Anne opened her eyes. “I love it.”
“You look like Nefertiti,” Sarah said.
“Half Nefertiti,” Mary Anne corrected. “Now let’s go take care of the rest.”
Charlie had already talked to the colonel about paying for the wig. “The army will pay or I will,” he said.
Charlie dropped the two women...scary thought, but there it was—Sarah was a woman too—at the beauty-and-wig store.
Sarah should do some shopping, too, with school starting in a couple of weeks, but Charlie dreaded the thought. At Sarah’s age, the wrong clothes with the wrong labels meant social disaster.
She felt a sudden panic that she didn’t know what her child liked any longer—not her music, not her books, not her friends. She had been so caught up with her own problems that she’d ignored Sarah the way the colonel ignored her when she was Sarah’s age, except to issue commands as to what she should do without ever asking what Charlie wanted.
I refuse to turn into my father!
As soon as she walked into the wig shop, Sarah called to her. “Mother, come look.”
When Mary Anne came out of the area in the back of the store where the makeup was done and wigs were fitted, Charlie gasped.
Mary Anne dropped her eyes and gave a little smile.
The wig lady stood back. “Doesn’t she look beautiful?”
Of course the scars were still there, but the green foundation had taken the red out so that the puffiness was barely noticeable, and, of course, the wig covered her missing ear. “I love it,” Charlie said.
The wig was short and cut in feathery layers.
“It’s natural hair,” Sarah said.
“No yak hair?” Charlie asked.
“I beg your pardon,” the stylist said.
“Private joke,” Charlie assured her. “The hair looks as though it grew on her head. How do we take care of it?”
“Don’t worry about it, Mother,” Sarah said. “We know what we’re doing, don’t we, Mary Anne?”
The closer the three got to the farm, however, the quieter Mary Anne became. When they pulled in, Sarah jumped out and ran to the barn. Mary Anne dawdled with her hand on the door handle.
“Scared, huh?” Charlie said.
“Petrified. What if they laugh?”
“They won’t.”
“Why should I even imagine I could look normal? I was never beautiful before.”
“You’re beautiful now. Besides,” Charlie added, “if anybody laughs, I’ll run ’em through with a pitchfork.”
CHAPTER TEN
THE VETS LAUGHED all right, but it was happy laughter. Then they applauded. Sean, Hank and Mickey surrounded Mary Anne. Sean spun her in a waltz. Hank grabbed Sarah and twirled her.
Charlie smiled at them all from the door to the common room.
Jake laid a hand on her shoulder and she jumped. “I like your hair, too.”
“Mine?”
“Did anyone ever tell you it’s the color of summer ermine?”
“White with black spots?”
“That’s winter ermine.”
She could feel his breath on the nape of her neck and shivered where his hand still lay on her shoulder.
“In the summer it’s a tawny dark gold with red in it that glows when the light catches it. Like yours.”
“Hey, Charlie, how about we drive into town for pizza or sushi or something?” Mickey asked as he whipped his chair around to face the door.
“Right,” Sean said. “Wouldn’t do to waste this beautiful woman on just us.”
“Come on, guys, don’t be silly,” Mary Anne said.
“Take a vote,” Charlie said. “Who wants what?”
“Sushi,” Hank shouted. “We can make pizza here another time.”
“Let me see if Vittorio can save tonight’s dinner or freeze it. If he can, then sushi it is,” Charlie said, and went to the kitchen.
The cook grumbled but admitted he’d planned big chef’s salads with French bread for dinner. “Too hot for anything heavy,” he said. “I haven’t washed the lettuce yet, so go eat your sushi and I’ll go home early.”
When she went back to give them the news, Sarah asked, “Can I go too?”
Mary Anne said, “You have to come. Charlie’ll be there.”
“Actually, I’m exhausted,” Charlie said, and suddenly she was. “Y’all go have fun.”
“But you have to come,” Sarah wailed.
“Go on with them. It’s okay. They’ll take good care of you. They know if they don’t, they won’t survive, right, guys?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sean said with a salute. He offered Mary Anne his arm. “Come on, fair lady, let’s go find us some sushi.”
Not to be outdone, Hank offered his arm to Sarah. “Jake, you coming?” he called over his shoulder.
“Sure.”
Charlie looked away as they scampered out to her truck like happy puppies. The keys were in it. They always were on the farm. The group fit into the big crew cab and Mickey’s wheelchair slid easily into the bed. Sean drove.
For a few moments, she relished the sudden silence as she watched moisture drip from the trees by the patio. The rain had stopped, the air had cooled and the evening would be spectacular. The rain had already soaked into the parched fields, leaving only the occasional puddle...
It was too silent without them. She should have gone along. She considered taking the other truck and following them into town, but Sarah needed this time on her own. They’d look after her. Please, please, let her make nice friends at school. Please make her happy here. Please let her know how much I love her when all I do is snap at her.
She became aware of hoof falls in the aisle, and then the jingle of harness.
The colonel must have decided to drive. He almost never did. He, too, must need some quiet time in the sudden cool of the evening.
She walked out to the barn aisle to join him.
Jake stood by Pindar’s left shoulder with the reins of the two-wheel gig in his hand.
“You went to town.” Charlie said. “I saw you go with the others.”
“I changed my mind before I got in the truck,” Jake said. “How about that? I made a real decision.”
Uh-huh. If he’d gone, he’d have had to sit at the same table they did, so he’d stayed behind. Not a real decision, just a continuation of an old habit.
“It was definitely a decision to put Pindar to,” she said. “Were you planning to drive alone? You know you’re not supposed to do that, right?”
He shook his head. “As you should be aware by now, sometimes rules and I don’t mix—not when there are horses involved. In this case, I knew you were in the common room, and I figured I could con you into joining me. I was even prepared to let you drive.”
“Oh, you were, were you?” One look at his innocent face and she burst out laughing. “If I hadn’t come out and found you, how were you going to come get me without leaving Pindar? Did you intend to bring him into the common room with you?”
“Pindar has big feet. He makes a lot of noise and the harness jingles. I knew you’d come out.”
“You’re aware the ground’s still sopping from the rain.”
“So? You melt?”
“We’ll have to wash everything down afterward.”
“Worth it. Climb aboard,” Jake said, and mounted on the right side. “I’ve decided I’m driving.”
Another decision. “Are you, now?”
She saw the set of his jaw. It must have cost him dearly to stay home when the others left. Making the decision to put to must have cost even more, but somewhere he’d found the strength. He was getting better. She climbed into the left seat.
They drove out with the purple and peach glow of a spectacular sunset in front of them, and the oversize disk of the full moon an eyelash above the horizon behind them.
Pindar clopped contentedly forward. Jake’s hands were light on the reins.
The man was a born driver. Charlie’s hands were still not that soft and quiet on the reins, probably never would be. The two-wheeled gig trundled through puddles and over wet grass with barely a whisper. Late-afternoon mockingbirds serenaded their mates and pranced across the grass, occasionally stabbing at the ground and coming up with a dangling earthworm. The meadow daisies, so recently dusty and droopy, stretched and nodded in the twilight.
I could drive like this forever, Charlie thought. Their shoulders touched, and she felt a wave of pleasure. Maybe he stayed back to be with me.
Remember, he’s still a warrior even if his smile and his hands are gentle at the moment.
Whatever terrible event broke him, he showed signs that with time he might heal. The colonel wouldn’t have included him in the group if he hadn’t believed Jake could be healthy eventually.
Who knew what he would become once he pushed himself?
He was used to being alone, used to moving to the ends of the earth at a moment’s notice, just like Steve.
Were they so different, Jake and Steve?
Yes, she answered, here, in this carriage in this twilight, they were different. How deep that went, she had no way of knowing. Yet.
But she intended to find out.
“Why did you join the army?” she asked. “We have time for a long story right now. It seems an odd choice for an Amish boy.”
He clucked to Pindar, who sped up to a faster walk. “The librarian at the school we kids all went to. She hooked me on reading and made me hungry for an education and travel. The army was the only avenue I could think of to get it.”
“Weren’t your grades good enough to win a scholarship?”
His laughter was without mirth. “I did win a partial scholarship to the University of Missouri, but it wasn’t enough without help from my family. Never gonna happen. I was Micah Thompson’s only son. I would inherit the farm. My job was to stay home and produce the next generation to inherit.” He picked up the reins. “Pindar, easy, boy. That stream shallow?”
“Usually.”
“Pindar, trot.”
“It’s been raining!”
The horse gave a little hop, the gig gave a bounce and into the stream they trotted.
“Ew!” Charlie yelped. Muddy creek water sprayed up over Pindar’s back and down their faces and chests. A moment later they were trotting on dry land again.
Jake pulled up the carriage. They looked at each other and broke into laughter.
“I know I said muddy, but seriously?” Charlie chuckled. “By the time we get back to the barn, we’ll be so dry we’ll crack.”
“Sorry.” He brushed a streak of mud off Charlie’s cheek with his thumb.
“You don’t sound sorry, mister.”
“Is there another way back?”
“There’s a little bridge way down there.” She pointed.
“Okay. Pindar, walk on.”
Once they were across the bridge, she asked, “You didn’t like being a farmer?”
“I loved working with the animals. Farming crops is miserable, backbreaking and often heartbreaking. I’d look over those acres of grain stretching to the horizon and see prison bars. I wanted to see the world. Since I couldn’t take the scholarship, the army was the next best thing.”
“Even if that meant fighting in wars?”
“I didn’t fully understand that most wars don’t take place on the Champs-Élysées. I managed to get my bachelor’s degree during my first few years, and my scores got me tapped for Officer’s Candidate School. I hadn’t intended to become an officer, but I certainly didn’t turn down the chance.”
“Did you make up with your family?”
He stiffened. “The letters I sent through non-Amish friends were never answered.”
“I’m so sorry. That must be terrible. Do you know what’s happened to them?”
“My three sisters are married to Amish men and have a number of children between them. From what I glean occasionally, they’re doing well.”
“Your parents?”
“My father died some years ago. My mother’s still alive.”
“And you haven’t tried to see her?”
“You don’t understand. She can’t see me—neither can any of the others. They can’t even acknowledge I exist.”
“That’s barbaric! What was your father like?”
“He was stern, but he never raised a hand to me. Never raised his voice, for that matter. He was a tough taskmaster but a good teacher. He felt certain that if he kept me working with him, I’d learn to appreciate what he was leaving me. Graduation was the final straw.”
“I thought Amish children left school in the eighth grade.”
“My mother fought for me. She knew how much school meant to me, and she was a lot younger than my father, so she could get round him most of the time. He did it grudgingly, but he agreed to let me graduate. I graduated a year early, but he still wouldn’t let me take up the scholarship. In high school I couldn’t play sports. No extracurricular activities. Definitely no dating English girls. Then he told me I couldn’t take part in the graduation ceremony.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s not plain to wear robes and a mortarboard and stand out. I had my diploma sent to me.”
“It meant so much to you, how could he?”
“For him it was the proper thing to do.” He shook his head. “He thought he was doing what was best for me.”
The colonel thought he was doing what was best for Charlie by not giving her the farm to run on her own. Charlie wanted what was best for Sarah. Did all parents get it wrong?
“I made arrangements with a friend from school to pick me up after midnight on the night after graduation. I had fake ID that said I was eighteen and didn’t need my parents’ permission to enlist, but the army really didn’t care so long as I was healthy. I climbed out my bedroom window and met my buddy on the road. I left a letter for Pappa and Mama, but my father probably threw it away without opening it. Nobody ever came looking for me. The next meeting
they had, I was shunned. I never expected they’d go that far.”
“Would they have taken you back?”
“I didn’t want to go back.”
“Does your family know what happened to you? That you were wounded?”
“They haven’t tried to get in touch with me. They wouldn’t want me to corrupt the children or members of the community with my dreams. I certainly would have, given the chance.”
“So if you hate the country life, what are you doing here?”
She felt him stiffen beside her. When he didn’t speak, she realized she’d pushed too hard again. He wasn’t relaxed any longer.
“The colonel and Sean kidnapped me.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Did any of the others want to be here, either, or had the colonel pressured them all?
“I’m glad they did.” He took his reins in one hand and held hers with his other.
“What changed your mind?”
“I’ve seen the world, and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” He turned in his seat to smile at her.
She caught her breath. “I hope I can do a good job teaching you.” Dumb, dumb, dumb. Back to student-teacher relationship.
The light went out of his eyes and he tweaked the reins.
She wanted to grab them from him, throw herself at him and kiss him. He might have wanted to kiss her, too, but she’d screwed it up. As usual. No wonder Steve said she was boring.
After a while, she cleared her throat and asked, “Do you ever question your choice?”
“Not that one. Pindar, trot on.”
“We’d better take Pindar back. If we get caught, the teacher could be accused of favoritism.”
“I’ll take a touch of favoritism. Pindar, trot.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE FARM TRUCK rolled in from Collierville at nine-thirty that night, and everyone tumbled out. Hank grumbled less than usual when he hauled Mickey’s chair out of the back and set it up.
Taking the Reins Page 10
