by Leslie Gould
That was where Phillip found us, at the edge of the creek. “Could we talk?” He leaned toward us.
I looked up at him, doing my best to soften my expression. “Perhaps another time?”
“Sometime soon?” He straightened, crossing his arms as he did.
I nodded, the tears welling in my eyes again. The thought of talking with him, seriously, terrified me. I didn’t want to hurt Phillip. Or my parents. But if Cate was correct, then he wasn’t the right one for me.
“Okay.” A look of uncertainty crossed his face. “I’ll see you soon.”
I felt sorry for Phillip as I waved at him with my free hand, holding on to Joe-Joe with my other. My little brother felt so relaxed against me I checked to see if he’d fallen asleep. He had.
Phillip started up the trail as Billy began telling me about his day, but the sound of whistling on our side of the creek interrupted him.
“Who is that?” I asked. None of my Bruders—or Daed—whistled much.
“Maybe it’s Pete,” Billy offered.
Sure he was right, I called out a hello.
The whistling stopped, but the footsteps continued. In a moment Jonathan was beside us. He held a piece of wood in one hand, another tucked under his arm, and a knife in his other hand.
“Ach,” he said. “Just who I was hoping to see.” He winked at me as he handed Billy one of the pieces of wood. It was a small branch, stripped of wood and shaped like a bow.
Billy held it up. It had notches in each end, tied with the string, and the handle had his name carved on the end.
“Because the little guy’s asleep, I’ll give this to you.” He handed Billy the one with Joe carved on it.
“Denki,” Billy said.
“Do you need some help?” Jonathan motioned to Joe-Joe.
I’d carried him plenty of times, but getting off the boulder was going to be tricky.
“Denki,” I said again, lifting Joe-Joe as best I could into Jonathan’s open arms. “Go put these in your fort,” I said to Billy, handing him the other bow. “You can show Joe-Joe in the morning.”
Billy took off running, and by the time we’d crossed the creek, he was back at our heels. Jonathan carried Joe-Joe effortlessly, but by the time we reached the end of the trail, Billy had surged ahead of us. I knew not to ask my brother not to tell Mutter and Daed about the bows—that would only encourage him to do it for sure. On his own, he might or might not. I couldn’t be sure.
“Just as far as the willow,” I said to Jonathan.
He nodded as if he understood.
“When can I see you again?” he whispered, his mouth brushing against my ear as he passed Joe-Joe into my arms.
I couldn’t help but smile as my heart beat against the weight of my brother. “Tonight,” I whispered back.
“Wunderbar,” he responded, a smile forming on his lips.
After I’d tucked Joe-Joe and Billy into bed that night, I sat out in the courtyard by myself, positioned so I could see both the back of the house and the lane. The sun had set, but the lingering light of dusk illuminated the yard and side of the house.
A breeze blew through the elm tree, playing the leaves like chimes.
I glanced to the second floor of the house. A lamp shone in the window of my parents’ room. I hoped Jonathan would show up—but not until after my parents put out their light.
A lone bat flew above the roof and then out toward the field. A mosquito buzzed close to my ear. Another landed on my arm. I smacked it and flicked it to the ground. In an instant I began to itch all over. I looked toward the lane. No Jonathan. I considered going for a walk, but what if he came to the house while I was gone?
Besides, I didn’t want to get eaten by mosquitoes. As I stood, the light in Mutter and Daed’s window went out.
As the dark of night fell, I headed to the back door, stepped into the mudroom, slipped off my flip-flops, and made my way through the dim kitchen. Maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe he’d changed his mind and had gone to Hannah’s house instead. I tiptoed through the living room and then up the stairs, clutching the railing as I pulled myself along.
When I reached the landing, I opened the little boys’ door. The full moon that had risen on the far side of the house cast enough light through their window that I could see they were both fast asleep. Joe-Joe slept with his sheet wound around his legs. Both of Billy’s arms were flung above his head, and his mouth hung open.
I carefully closed their door. I didn’t need to be quiet for their sakes—they would be fast asleep until morning—but I didn’t want to disturb Mutter. When I entered my room I stood still, listening for my parents’ voices. Some nights I could hear them through the wall, although I’d never been able to make out their words. Sometimes Mutter would cry and Daed’s tone would grow frustrated, but even then I couldn’t tell what they were saying.
So far tonight—probably worn out by the activity of the day—they were quiet.
I lit my lamp beside my bed and sat atop the sunshine-and-shadows quilt I had made last year. It was for my hope chest, the one I didn’t have, so I put it on my bed instead.
All of my other hope-chest items were in a hamper on my floor, which was the only element of untidiness that existed in my otherwise completely ordered space.
Neither Mutter nor Aenti Nell ever came into my room, so they didn’t know I didn’t use the hand-me-down hope chest my mother had given me.
It had been hers.
And I didn’t want it.
Not using it was the most rebellious thing I’d ever done—until I talked to Jonathan at the picnic and encouraged him to come calling tonight.
My dresses hung on pegs across the room. A three-drawer bureau, to the side of the French doors, held all my other clothes. The top was bare except for the only added decor in the entire room—a canning jar filled with cosmos, the white, pink, and fuchsia flowers bending downward.
My parents’ door opened with a creak. Sometimes Mutter couldn’t sleep and wandered the house. I’d so hoped tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights—but it seemed it was.
I ventured to my window, and although I was tempted to step out onto my balcony more than I’d ever been before, I didn’t. Jonathan was definitely late. Even though we hadn’t specified a time, we both had to get up early in the morning.
I valued punctuality in a person. It was one of Phillip’s qualities I appreciated.
After another ten minutes, sure Jonathan wasn’t coming at all, I retreated back to my bed and pulled my nightgown from under my pillow just as the hoot of an owl interrupted the still night. I sprang to the French doors and flung them open. Sure enough, Jonathan was waiting in the courtyard, below the branches of the elm tree. Without stepping out, I waved and then motioned for Jonathan to wait over by the willow tree, away from the Haus.
I didn’t want Mutter to see him through the kitchen window.
I turned off my lamp, slipped down the stairs, and started for the front door, guessing Mutter was in the kitchen.
Daed’s voice coming from the archway startled me. “Out for a stroll?” He had a bowl in his hand.
Speechless, I nodded.
He smiled. “Tell Phillip hello.”
I pursed my lips.
“You have my blessing, Addie.” He grinned. “Lighten up. We couldn’t be happier about the two of you. I told Phillip that today.” He held up the bowl. “And by the way, the date pudding is delicious. Best you’ve ever made.”
I smiled at him, although I doubted he could tell in the darkness, snatched up the pair of flip-flops I kept at the front door, and slipped out. I felt like a cheat—but not enough to tell him the truth or, worse, not go. It was the first time I’d ever deceived my father.
And the first time I’d ever taken such a risk.
I fled the house and hurried around the side. At least Timothy had left for the evening and wasn’t drinking behind the barn. And I didn’t think he’d taken Danny with him.
The full moon sh
one above the willow, illuminating the tree and Jonathan. Glancing back once to make sure Daed hadn’t followed me out the door, I hurried across the lawn.
“What a night,” I said as I reached Jonathan, barely aware of the mosquito that had landed on my arm. I swatted it away.
“Jah.” He gazed at me, his eyes full of emotion.
My face grew warm at his intensity.
He held out his open hand to me. On his palm was a thin piece of wood the size of a bookmark. “It’s for you.”
He’d etched a simple Engel in the wood, her face turned upward, her wings spread wide. I closed my hand around it. “Denki. It’s beautiful,” I said, running my finger over the carving. I slipped the bookmark into the pocket of my apron.
“Want to walk?” He put out his arm, and I took it, placing my hand in the crook of his elbow.
He reached for my hand, locking his long, strong fingers through mine. The warmth of his rough skin sent a shiver up my spine. With each step we took along the ridge above the creek, feelings surged inside of me that I didn’t know existed.
Jonathan threw his head back. “Look at the night sky,” he said. “Isn’t it stunning?”
It was.
Jonathan pointed to a lone pine towering above us to the right. “God gives us all we need. Beauty. Clothes. Food. All we need to have a relationship with him and others. And the assurance he is always present.”
I’d never thought of God’s provision that way—nor had I heard anyone talk the way Jonathan did. Under the canopy of the night, I felt a peace I hadn’t experienced before.
He added, “Everything to sustain life comes from God.”
I shivered. Jonathan pulled me closer, brushing his head against my Kapp. “Ach, Addie,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt such joy.”
If Phillip had said such a sappy thing, I would have cringed. But coming from Jonathan it sounded real.
We walked in silence for a moment, stepping into the orchard, under the gnarly branches of the apple trees laden with green fruit. As we reached the other side, I asked about his grandfather.
He said the old man’s health was failing, although he still seemed full of spit and vinegar and wild ideas. “He let the farm work go and didn’t ask my Onkel or cousins to help. And didn’t hire anyone. He didn’t plant any crops in the spring. He’s always had his head in the clouds, but it seems to have gotten worse.” He sighed. “My father tells me I take after him.”
Jonathan patted my hand. “Enough about me. What’s it like to be the only girl with all those Bruders?”
I gave him the short story of my immediate family, then mentioned Onkel Bob, Cate, and Betsy—and then my mother’s family.
“They seem to be the ones holding on to the grudge,” I said.
“Speaking of,” Jonathan said, “what’s that all about anyway?”
I stopped walking. “I honestly don’t know.”
Jonathan turned toward me. “Because my parents have never talked about it—I didn’t even know about it until Martin and Mervin told me. But when I asked my Dat tonight, he got angry and told me to stay away from ‘all those worthless Cramers.’”
“He hadn’t said anything about it before?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“That surprises me.”
“Why?” Jonathan put his hand on my shoulder.
“I thought both our families held the grudge equally.”
“That’s just it,” he said. “Just because my Dat hasn’t talked about it doesn’t mean he doesn’t carry it. He doesn’t talk about much.”
“My Daed has hard feelings, for sure. And so does my Mutter and her family. But my Daed’s brother-in-law wants it to end.”
We started walking again, our hands still joined.
“Jah,” Jonathan said. “Mervin and Martin both said your Onkel Bob is a good man.” He stopped abruptly, both talking and walking, and then cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean that your father and Bruders aren’t.”
“Ach,” I said, pulling him along. “You’re right. They’re all good men. It’s just the ones in my immediate family aren’t as wise as Onkel Bob.” I explained that he’d been married to my Aenti, Daed’s sister, who died when Betsy was born, when I was just a baby.
My paternal grandmother helped Bob with the girls until she died years ago, and my parents always seemed to respect Bob. “However,” I said, “my mother is critical of Cate, and of others in the community. It seems to be her way of trying to build herself up, by pointing out the flaws of others.”
“I think that’s pretty common,” Jonathan said.
I nodded. But not acceptable. “What’s your family like?” I asked.
“Very small compared to yours.”
“Oh?” I suspected his siblings were all younger than he was.
“I’m an only child.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. That was very rare for an Amish family.
“I had a Schwester once, for a few days.”
“I’m sorry. What happened?” I stared at him by the light of the moon.
“She was my twin, born after me. During the pregnancy there was no indication there were two babies, at least that’s what my grandfather told me. They only heard one heartbeat, and my mother wasn’t unusually large. It was the last day of January, and the roads were bad when she went into labor. The midwife arrived late. My Mamm labored too long. I weighed eight pounds when I was born. But my Schwester weighed only two pounds. My Dat told me once I’d hogged all the food.” He shook his head, sadly. “Worse, my delivery injured my Mamm, which probably cut off my Schwester’s oxygen and also prevented my parents from having more children.”
I squeezed Jonathan’s hand as compassion filled my heart. Not only did he not have any siblings, but it also sounded as if he’d been blamed for it, at least by his father.
He smiled at me. “It’s sad, I know. I wish my Daed had more children, particularly more sons, to focus on.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m a big disappointment to him.” His voice was matter of fact. “I’ve never measured up to what he hoped for.”
“What are you saying?” I couldn’t comprehend why any father wouldn’t be pleased with Jonathan.
“Mostly that he wants me to farm, and I want to be a carpenter.”
“But you’re so good at what you do.”
“He doesn’t think it has much value.” We reached the field with the downward slope beyond the orchard. He chuckled. “You keep changing the subject to me. I want to talk about you.”
Before I could protest, he asked, “Who was that guy playing volleyball today? The one who called out your name when we were down at the creek.”
I groaned. “That’s not talking about me.”
He stopped walking again at the edge of the orchard. “Phillip, right?”
I nodded, stepping beside him.
“Are you courting him?”
“He and my parents think so.”
“But you don’t?”
I took a deep breath. Three conversations with Jonathan, plus Cate’s insight, had convinced me. I knew for certain. “Phillip’s not right for me.” Not once had I felt for him any of the emotions that nearly overwhelmed me now as I stood beside Jonathan.
“I’m so glad to hear you speak honestly.”
“Denki,” I answered. “There’s no reason not to, jah? If I know he’s not right for me, I shouldn’t pretend.” Inwardly I groaned. Somehow I’d have to make it clear to Phillip, sometime soon.
Jonathan leaned toward me. “Nor should I pretend when I know who is right for me, jah?”
My eyebrows arched as I spoke. “And who would that be?”
He beamed, his eyes dancing. “Who do you think it is?”
I stepped backward. “But how can you know so soon?”
“I know.”
I tugged on his arm, urging him to walk again. He obliged. “What about Hannah?” I asked. “I heard you wanted to court h
er.”
He answered in a calm voice. “I was interested in her, jah. I thought she might be a possibility. But I know with you.”
“How do you know?”
With the most sincere look I’d ever seen, he said, “How could I not know?” He kept his eyes on me as we walked, his face still bright from the moonlight. “And how about you? You said you know Phillip isn’t the right one. Any chance you know that I am?”
“Would you think ill of me if I did?”
“Would I expect something entirely different from you than me?”
I pulled him to a stop in the hollow of the field and met his eyes. “Would you?”
“Of course not.”
Feeling awkward, I said, “Perhaps we’re both being too rash.” I took a few steps in the direction of the Haus.
Jonathan caught my hand. “Perhaps you speak too soon.”
I avoided his gaze. “So you believe in love at first sight?”
“Maybe not everyone is as blessed as we, but jah, in this case I do.” He touched my chin. “You can’t tell me you’re not feeling something special.”
“I can’t?”
“Something you’ve never felt before?”
My face grew warm. “Jah, but I don’t have any experience in these sorts of things.”
He cocked his head. “I thought you would have had lots of suitors.”
“My Daed is rather particular.”
“But he approves of Phillip?”
“Jah.”
“But he wouldn’t of me?”
“That’s right.”
“Because I’m a Mosier?”
“For starters, jah.” I had no idea what Daed would think of Jonathan if he wasn’t a Mosier, but I think he’d agree with Jonathan’s father—that farming was a better vocation for an Amishman than woodworking, especially when his business seemed to cater to Englischers.
Jonathan’s expression turned sad as he took my hand and led me down toward the creek. My awkward feeling disappeared, replaced by a sense of hope.
I slipped my flip-flops off, feeling the cool mud on my feet. “Your family makes no difference to me though—I’d feel the same about you no matter what your name.”
“Denki. I feel the same about you,” Jonathan said, pulling me along. “But maybe we can change things, jah? Bring our two families together?”
