“Sounds good. Do we need my truck?”
“It’s not far.” She stopped to grin. “Besides, I have these.” She bent down to grab something under the table, then came back up holding two pairs of Rollerblades.
Lucas frowned in confusion. “Are you serious?”
She nodded, ready to turn blue in the face explaining why she wanted him to skate with her. But Lucas did not need any convincing.
He picked up the larger pair—obviously meant for him. “I haven’t bladed in more than ten years. You?”
“To be honest, I haven’t since Jacob asked to court me.” She didn’t bother explaining that he hadn’t approved of the spirited mode of transport or entertainment. “So it’s been a long time for me, as well. But I’m sure I remember how.”
“Me too. Ready?”
After returning his grin, she rubbed her hands together. Lucas sat in one of the chairs at the little table, and they began lacing their skates. She’d borrowed them from Leah, who had several pairs in various sizes for her delivery boys, who preferred blading during the summer months. Esther had guessed at Lucas’s size. From the way he stood up, testing them out, she’d guessed right.
Hooking her knapsack over her shoulder, then gripping the back of the chair, she stood slowly, trying to stabilize her footing. When she’d been young, she’d loved using skates, and had gotten pretty good at it, faster than Lou and Anna, even Noah Otto. One night after the youth singings, when Esther had been no more than twelve, she’d challenged Jacob to a race. She’d beat him by a mile—which now made her feel horrible, knowing the physical advantage she’d had over him.
“Hey, you’re a natural,” Lucas said, gliding beside her, body bent at the waist, hands clasped behind his back.
“I’m just trying not to fall on my face in front of you,” Esther called out, the chilly air blowing against her cheeks. This probably would’ve been a better idea a few months back, but she made sure her cloak was fastened tight as she raced to catch up to Lucas.
“You’re fast,” she said, trying not to sound out of breath. “This isn’t a race.”
“Sorry,” Lucas said. Then suddenly, he slowed way down, slow enough that she passed him easily. A moment later, she felt him behind her. The second he placed his hands on her hips, a shock wave zipped up her spine, making the back of her neck tingle.
She blinked hard, hoping she wasn’t about to faint and then roll down the hill.
“How’s this for a better pace?” he asked, moving his hands up to her shoulders, then gently sliding them down to her elbows, holding her so they skated together.
Esther couldn’t breathe, yet her heart was beating a million miles a minute. “It’s…nice,” she managed to get out. “F-fun.”
What a ridiculous understatement, she thought, purposefully slowing her pace so his body touched hers, just a little. Does Lou think it’s “nice” when Levi touches her?
“Which way next?” he asked, letting her go, then coming up to her side.
When her eyes cleared, she noticed they were at a three-way stop.
“Left,” she said after coughing slightly, missing how his closeness had brought such warmth.
He gave her a thumbs-up, then took off at a faster pace than before, perhaps regretting their closeness. They passed two buggies and a group of kinnah who’d just been let out of school.
“Relax your hands,” Lucas said, falling beside her again. “Like this.” He flared out his fingers, moving his arms gently back and forth. “Like you’re swimming.”
She longed for him to simply take her hand and show her what he meant. Anything to cause him to touch her again.
“I’ve been swimming only once,” she said, needing to remember that platonic promise she’d made to herself. “And all we did was float in inner tubes. We didn’t use our hands.”
Lucas laughed. “Well, now you’ll be prepared for it.” He skated forward quickly, then slowed. “Up this hill or around the bend?”
“Up,” Esther said, then pumped her arms to skate past him. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t paying too close attention to where they were going.
It was tiring, going uphill, but having a goal made it feel easier for Esther. When she reached the top, she slowed to a stop, not so gracefully skating off the road onto a patch of grass. Lucas followed, his hair mussed from the wind. He looked five years younger and about a thousand worries lighter.
“Now where?” he asked, rubbing his palms over his knees.
Esther took a beat, then wordlessly gazed to the farm way down the dell.
Lucas’s face went white. “This is where you brought me?”
“I need to return the—”
“Esther.” He moved farther back from the road, farther away from that farm. “That’s my parents’ house.”
“I…borrowed the book from your mother.”
He tilted his head. “You saw my mother?”
“I see her quite often, Lucas. All of them. Even your eldest brother. Peter moved up to Swartsville for a job last year, but he still comes home to visit every preaching Sunday.”
Lucas wasn’t moving, and Esther wasn’t sure if that was good—that he was taking everything in—or if he was about to blow up.
“Your sister actually lent me the book.”
“Sister.” Lucas kept staring toward the house. “Which…?”
“Hannah.” She smiled. “Hannah Anna Banana.”
“Banana?”
“There were three other Hannahs in her grade. Jacob came up with the nickname.”
Lucas took one step toward the house, still only a blank expression on his face. “Must’ve been after I’d gone.”
“She’s twelve now, almost as tall as my little Evie.”
A second later, she heard him take in a sharp breath; then he lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I understand what you’re trying to do,” he said, eyes closed. “I appreciate it, but I can’t go down there.”
“Why?”
He lowered his hand and looked at her. “Should I explain it again?”
His tone made her flinch. “No, but—”
“Did you tell them I’m here?”
“No,” she said firmly. “I promised you I wouldn’t do that.”
He nodded and let out another deep exhale. “Let’s go.”
“Lucas, please.” She was not about to budge. “We’re here now. I’ll go inside with you. It’ll be easier if—”
“How long have you been planning this?” he asked. “Tell the truth.”
“I didn’t plan anything. It came to mind as I was on the way into town. I was thinking how you took me to see the goats; then later we went to your house… You’ve planned things, and I thought it was my turn. That’s what friends do.”
“Don’t you have friends of your own?” he said, his voice sounding strained.
“Jah…”
“They’re probably all Amish, too, right? Why don’t you hang out with them?”
Esther allowed the words—the subtle insult—to run circles through her mind. Was he accusing her of something? Or was he simply pouring salt on her already open wound?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lucas felt so angry, so betrayed that he couldn’t think straight. If he’d wanted to reach out to his family, didn’t Esther know he would do it himself, on his own timetable? He didn’t need her to hold his hand.
Just as regret at his misplaced rage began mentally punching him in the head, Esther burst into tears. Oh no, he thought, trying to replay his words to her, but all he could remember was the hot flash of anger.
“I don’t fit in,” Esther blurted, turning away.
“What are you talking about?”
“What you just said about my friends.” She glared at him, wind blowing back her cloak. “I thought you of
all people would understand.”
Him of all people? Does she think I feel like I don’t fit in, either?
Well, did he?
When he took a split second away from his own anger, he actually thought about what she’d said. Sure, he was almost literally a fish out of water, but what confused him was why she would feel out of place.
As a teenager, he remembered her as being pleasant, fun-loving, and kind to everyone. Nothing glaringly out of the ordinary now, either. In fact, she was rather…well, he quite enjoyed being with her. A woman like Esther should feel welcomed anywhere.
Before he forgot his manners altogether, he realized he owed her a pretty hefty apology. Her plan had been misguided, but she’d been trying to help.
“What do you mean you don’t fit in?” he asked. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” she snapped. He knew he deserved it. He’d snapped at her to mask his own insecurity.
“Come here,” he said when her crying increased. “Behind those trees, there’s a place we can sit.” Without thinking, he took her gloved hand and looped it through his arm. They’d been coordinated in their Rollerblades, but neither of them was great at walking on grass still wearing them. She plopped down on the wooden bench Minister Bender had made when he’d been a kid. One night, he and his four brothers had snuck out here to carve their names on the legs. Without needed to check, he knew Jacob’s was on the leg closest to Esther.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said.
“I can untie these for you, then,” Lucas said, attempting a very lame joke. Esther didn’t even react.
“I’m so mixed up, and I hate feeling this way.”
It was like the first day at the clinic. Words rushed from her mouth, but nothing made sense. Okay, she felt lost. What about the dress? How dare Sarah. And what did she really believe? Why had Gott taken him?
Jacob, he thought. She’s talking about Jacob, and she’s…crying.
The thought of Esther still missing his younger brother to the point of tears—even after all she knew—made his stomach clench. She’d been engaged to him. They’d been in love. Had his thoughts gotten so carried away since he’d seen her through the window at Yoder’s? Or as she’d been skating alongside him? Or practically any other time they’d been together?
She’d belonged to his younger brother. The brother he’d have done anything for—even leave the most important people in the world to him.
“I feel myself getting restless,” she said, interrupting his thoughts, “questioning the simplest things, and I sometimes wonder if our way of life is Gott’s plan for me.”
Lucas sat up straight. He surmised she was going through something confusing, but it must’ve been serious if she was even considering leaving the church.
“Talk to me,” he said.
After wiping away a few more tears, and after a few more deep breaths, Esther said, “I’m not sixteen anymore. I had my courtship and my engagement—that part of my life is over, it seems. I’m obedient and charitable and I love Gott so much, but I don’t know where or how I fit in.”
She was talking so fast, unloading so much information that Lucas wondered how long these worries had been building up.
“I’m floating,” she went on, “drifting in the gray, and I have no idea anymore if Gott has a plan for me. Then I think, maybe that means I’m to carve my own path, but what if it leads away from home? I pray and I pray, but I have no peace. I don’t know what to do.” She looked at him, fingers clasped. “I’m scared, Lucas.”
Finally, those muddled words made sense. It wasn’t about a dress, or about where he’d been the last ten years, or even about Jacob.
Esther was doubting her faith. The idea shocked him.
From that simple discernment, the weight of her heavy heart caused his own heart to feel heavy.
“It’s ironic,” he couldn’t help saying as he continued to untie her skates.
“What is?”
“You’re asking me for advice about this. I did leave home, and then…things changed and I left the church, too. I’ve lived as an Englisher for years.”
“But you came back.”
Her words gave him pause. “Not to repent of my sins to the brethren and ask for forgiveness—you know that’s the only way I’d be fully accepted again. And not to return to the plain community.”
“But your family…” She glanced through the trees toward the home where he’d grown up.
“They don’t want to see me,” he said, feeling like the words were on repeat. “I’m a disappointment.”
“How do you know what they’re thinking?” She clasped her hands over her knees and leaned forward, red circles rimming her blue eyes. “There must be plenty of places for you to work. Why did you choose Honey Brook?”
Her question shouldn’t have been difficult, but it was. Maybe he’d even mentally been avoiding the implications of coming home when he’d taken this job.
Was his subconscious protecting him from something? Or preparing him?
Esther was gazing down at him, so open and eager.
Back then, he’d prayed a lot, too, about what God’s plan was for him. When he’d made that choice at sixteen, he remembered how unsure he’d felt at the time, yet very sure. And scared. So, so scared.
Suddenly, the words from James and Exodus and the teaching of Paul swam around in his head so much that he almost couldn’t see.
Then his thoughts became clearer than polished glass. “Esther,” he said, “this is a very important subject—for both of us. I don’t have answers for you right now, but in a few days, I know I will.”
…
Hours later, Esther had left for home before him, probably hoping he might walk down to his parents’ house on his own. But Lucas had no intention. His steps were steady, however, as he walked through the trees, passed dried rows of corn ready to be cut for the grain.
Besides the glow of gaslights coming from the front windows, the whitewashed house was dark. He’d sheared his first sheep here, and when he’d first started attending youth singings on Sunday nights, practically every volleyball game was in this pasture behind the barn.
A light flickered and he saw movement inside.
As he walked down the gravel path, Lucas felt nervous, but now, as he stood on the doorstep, then knocked three times, all nervousness vanished.
This’ll probably end in nothing anyway, he thought as the door began to open. He was in his sixties when I left home. There’s no way he’ll recognize me now…
“Lucas Brenneman.”
“Minister Bender,” Lucas said, not bothering to feel shocked. “It’s good to see you.”
The old man’s beard was longer, and white as snow, while the hair on his head was nearly gone. He wore a blue shirt, black vest and pants, and black slippers. It was nearly eight o’clock at night, after all.
“Oh, my.” He chuckled, stroking his beard. “I haven’t been minister nigh on these ten years. Come in, please. I heard something a few months back ’bout you being in Honey Brook, but, since your folks never mentioned it, I thought it was a rumor.”
Lucas stepped into the cozy parlor. “I’ve been here since April.”
“Been by to visit your mamma?”
He dipped his head. “No, sir.”
“Brother,” he corrected, sitting on a rocking chair. “Call me Brother Sol.”
Lucas’s heart stung at the request. “Thank you.”
“Have a seat,” Sol said, gesturing to a tan couch covered in yarn-tied quilts. “Push all that to the side. My granddaughter’s been learning to crochet. Apparently, I’m the sole benefactor.”
If he’d been more polite, Lucas would’ve inquired as to which granddaughter, but there’d been so many—one of them named Hannah like his own sister.
“Since
my Gracie Mae passed on three winters ago, I seem to be the sole benefactor of everything in my family.”
“I’m sorry,” Lucas said, lacing and unlacing his fingers. “I didn’t know about your wife.”
Sol bobbed his head up and down. “Well, she’d been ill for a while, weak as a kitten at the end but still sharp as a tack, mind you. I would’ve kept her with me forever, but the good Lord’s will had a mere fifty years in mind. I didn’t doubt His will then, and I don’t now.” He smiled and gave Lucas a wink. “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto your own understanding.”
“I never understood that scripture,” Lucas confessed.
Sol began rocking in his chair. “Ya ever have a real difficult decision to make?”
Lucas actually laughed. “Once or twice.”
The old man puckered his lips and nodded. “Did you ponder over it for hours and hours? Maybe even days and weeks?”
“Yes.”
“Did you make the decision and then take it to the Lord?”
“Um, no,” Lucas admitted. “I kind of did it the other way around.”
“Did you feel peace with your decision?”
Lucas thought back. “Not peace, but at the time, I definitely felt that God—Gott,” he corrected himself, choosing the more familiar, spiritual Amish pronunciation. “I definitely felt that Gott understood. He didn’t send down an angel to stop me or…cure what ailed my soul.”
“Because you were raised well, by righteous, goodly parents. Gott trusted you to live your life, to give unselfishly, to treat others kindly, and to always show your love to Him through your actions.” He tapped his own chest. “With all thine heart.”
Taking a long moment to drink in the powerful words, Lucas smiled. “You’ve always had a way of explaining the Bible. Especially to the youth. You were my favorite minister.”
“Well now.” Sol began rocking faster. “We’re all given different gifts of the Spirit. What do you think yours is?”
“I don’t know. Healing, maybe? The gift of teaching.”
Sol smiled. “Both very precious. And powerful.” He leaned forward. “But I don’t think that’s why you sought me out tonight, when you could be eating your ma’s pot roast and stewed tomatoes.”
Never an Amish Bride Page 15
