Romancing Nadine

by Amy Lillard

  But after Charlotte spoke, all she could think was, what now?

  Amos Fisher was coming up her drive, something huge and red on his lap. Nadine couldn’t make out what it was from where she was standing. Not that it was of any concern.

  It wasn’t what she wanted. It wasn’t what she needed. And it certainly didn’t matter that her heart tripped over itself at the sight of him.

  And after she had told him that they couldn’t see each other any longer.

  She turned away and started for the front door. She needed to get a handle on this and quickly. She wrenched open the door to find him already standing there, the largest bouquet of roses she had ever seen in his arms. His hat was barely visible, and she wondered how he made it up the porch steps without tripping.

  “Amos.” She wanted his name to show her exasperation with his determination, but instead it came out sort of awed and breathless.

  How could it not? The roses were beautiful, perfect. Long, green stems with the thorns all plucked off. Gorgeous red blooms, each with pristine petals that looked as if no bug had ever crawled across them. No wilted edges from the sun, no dropping leaves from too little water. Perfect.

  “Surprise.”

  “Jah,” she murmured.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Of course.” Charlotte rushed forward. “Let me get some water for the flowers.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Charlotte not to bother, that she wasn’t keeping the flowers, but she bit it back. She needed to have a conversation with Amos, and she didn’t need her daughter-in-law around to hear it.

  He lowered the flowers a little, and she caught sight of his twinkling blue eyes. “Do you like them?”

  “They’re lovely.” And it was the truth. “But I can’t accept roses from you.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why.”

  “Nadine, don’t start.”

  Charlotte picked that time to come back into the room with a small bucket. “I couldn’t find a vase I thought was big enough so I brought this.”

  “It’s okay,” Nadine said without taking her gaze from Amos. “I’m not keeping them.”

  “You’re not?” Charlotte asked.

  “Of course you are,” Amos interrupted. He took off his hat in what she could only think was a nervous gesture. “They’re a gift.”

  “I’ll . . . just leave . . . this here.” Charlotte left the room as quickly as she had entered it. But Nadine knew she wasn’t too far away. She would want to know every detail of her conversation with Amos.

  “You don’t start,” she returned. “And I’d say you’ve been working with the Englisch too long to talk to me in such a manner.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “But that’s also where I got the idea to bring you flowers.”

  “They’re going to die,” Nadine said. “You brought me something beautiful, and now I get to watch it die. Why? Why did you bring them?”

  “You know how I feel about you.”

  “You don’t even know me.”

  “And you’re not letting me,” he countered. “Why do you have up so many walls?”

  “I do not know what you’re talking about. Now, if you would kindly take your flowers and go . . .”

  “You’re too stubborn.”

  “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

  He crammed his hat back on his head. “I think I will. But don’t think I’m taking these flowers with me. I’m leaving them here so you can remember me and how I’m trying to care for you, you stubborn woman.” He stormed off, out the door, slamming it behind him as he went.

  The way he moved, or maybe his mannerisms, something made her think of another time, another place. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. But it was happy, nostalgic, maybe a little sad, like something that had slipped from her grasp, though she had no idea what it was.

  * * *

  The Sundays when they didn’t have church were made for visiting, but Nadine and Charlotte hadn’t had many visitors since they had moved to Wells Landing. Now and again, someone from the church would stop by—the bishop, the bishop’s wife—but no one they would call friend.

  Maybe if Nadine hadn’t angered Amos so yesterday he would have come visiting today. She had to admit to herself, she enjoyed his company—when he wasn’t talking about true love and getting married. Those conversations made her feel queasy. As if she had done something wrong and couldn’t remember how to make amends.

  “Let’s do a puzzle,” Charlotte said.

  Nadine knew she was just trying to get Jenna to cheer up, but nothing short of moving back in with the Lamberts would succeed.

  “You can’t do a puzzle in one day.” Jenna limped toward the table. Her ankle seemed to be healing nicely, but she said it still hurt some when she put her full weight on it.

  “Well, then we’ll have something to do tomorrow after supper.” Charlotte poured the puzzle pieces out on the table, and together they started turning them over so the colored side was showing. It was a big puzzle, one thousand pieces of songbirds and flowers against a white picket fence.

  “But once you put it together, then you can only take it apart again.”

  “Not necessarily,” Charlotte said. “We can glue it together and hang it in your room. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  “It is pretty,” Jenna admitted. But Nadine could tell that something was still bothering her. “Come play puzzle with us, Mammi.”

  Nadine laid her knitting aside and wandered to the kitchen table to help.

  It was going to take a while to complete, Nadine thought after twenty minutes of just searching for the pieces with the straight edge. Jenna had grown tired of that and had gathered up pieces with blue on them to try and put the blue jay together. Charlotte was unfazed.

  It had been a while since Nadine had put together a puzzle and she had forgotten how much she enjoyed the activity.

  “There,” Charlotte said, having finally got the edge together. “Now the real fun begins.” The words had no sooner left her mouth than a knock sounded at the front door.

  “I’ll get it.” Jenna stood, but Nadine shook her head.

  “I’ll get it.” She made her way across the room to open the door to Abbie and Priscilla. “Hi. Come on in. We were just putting a puzzle together.”

  “How fun,” Priscilla said. “I haven’t put a puzzle together in years. Why do you suppose that is?”

  Nadine shrugged. “I guess we just get busy with other things.”

  “We should never be too busy to take time out for ourselves.”

  How true, and yet that was precisely what she did. Even worse, those exact words sounded like something Amos had said to her a while back. And just when she had almost gotten him out of her mind.

  “We should do something like this. Make ourselves a puzzle night.”

  “Mamm said I could glue this one together and hang it in my room.”

  Abbie smiled. “That will look great.”

  “Where are the babies?” Charlotte asked.

  “They were down for a nap when we left. I’m hoping they don’t wake up before we get back.” Abbie bit her lip. “If they do . . .”

  “That means Emmanuel, Titus, and Buddy will be in charge of them,” Priscilla finished for her.

  “Oh, my.” Charlotte widened her eyes, and everyone laughed.

  “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” Priscilla said. “The men have them outnumbered, but just barely.”

  “So what brings you out?” Charlotte asked. “I’m sure you didn’t come over here to put together a puzzle with us.”

  Abbie cleared her throat. “We came to ask if you will let Jenna come back to live with us. Buddy misses her, the twins miss her. We miss her.”

  “Mamm, see?”

  “Go to your room, Jenna Gail.”

  “But Mamm—”

  “Now.”

  Jenna pushed back from the table, her movements jerky and angry. She knew what she wan
ted, and those whom she loved were keeping her from that. To Jenna, that would be wholly unfair. To anyone, for that matter.

  It took her a few minutes to limp from the room, while all eyes watched her. Nadine noticed she slowed down one time as if she was about to spin around and take a stand, but then she moved on.

  Once she was gone, Charlotte took a deep breath, the kind a person takes when their patience has reached its end. “We miss Jenna, and she is my daughter.”

  Abbie reached across the table and captured Charlotte’s hand in her own. “That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry. It’s just ... well, she seemed to be growing so much. I’m sure it’s forced independence. Now that she’s kind of on her own, she has to be responsible.”

  “Plus she’s such help with the twins,” Priscilla added.

  “I know, but . . .”

  “Can I talk to you?” Priscilla asked.

  “I thought that’s what we were doing.”

  “For real, this time,” Priscilla added. “See, I know what it’s like to have a daughter. You love her so much, and you want what’s best for her. You think you have it all figured out for her, then she comes in with her own plan.”

  “But Jenna is special,” Charlotte said. Then she frowned. “That didn’t come out the way I intended.”

  “Let me tell you a story,” Priscilla said.

  “Mamm . . .” Abbie’s voice was low and pleading. Whatever Priscilla was about to say, Abbie wanted to keep it between them.

  “You weren’t here then,” Priscilla continued. “When the wreck happened.”

  “I think I heard something about it.” Charlotte crossed her arms, a sure sign she didn’t think she wanted to hear what Priscilla was about to say.

  “It was a tragedy. My son was killed, Abbie’s twin. An Englisch boy was dead and another boy paralyzed.”

  “I’ve seen him at church sometimes,” Nadine said, but she had never asked what had caused him not to be able to walk.

  “They all went out to a party.”

  “Mamm.”

  “Hush, Abbie. I know it’s hard to hear, but this is important.” She turned her attention back to Charlotte. “One boy was driving and took the blame for all the tragedy. That boy was Titus Lambert.”

  Nadine stopped. “You mean . . .”

  Priscilla nodded. “I do.”

  Charlotte stiffened. “That’s a sad and terrible story. But I don’t see what it has to do with me.”

  “Our children find love where they find love. Unfortunately, it might hurt us at the time—because we don’t think that person’s right for them or we don’t approve of them for some reason—but she chose him and we have to trust that we have raised her to know right from wrong. You have to allow them to make their mistakes.”

  Jenna had made more than her share of mistakes.

  “You want me to let Jenna come back.” Charlotte’s words were less of a question and more of an accusation.

  “I think it’s good for her,” Nadine finally said.

  Charlotte didn’t acknowledge that she had spoken.

  “She got hurt there,” she finally said.

  Priscilla nodded. “But she could have gotten hurt anywhere.”

  “She’s happy at our house,” Abbie said. “A least I think she is. I know she loves Buddy. He’s miserable without her.”

  “And she him,” Nadine said.

  “Hush, Nadine.”

  “You know it’s true.”

  Charlotte folded her arms in front of her and laid her head on the table. “Fine,” she mumbled.

  “Jah?” Abbie’s face brightened. “She’s like the sister I never had.”

  Charlotte lifted her face. “You really like having her around?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you want to go tell her?” Nadine asked Abbie.

  “I will.” And that’s when Nadine realized that Charlotte needed a minute alone to say good-bye all over again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Since it was Sunday, moving her stuff back into the Lamberts’ seemed too much like work. After much debate, Jenna agreed to move the next day—instead of that instant.

  So Monday, despite the threatening rain, they loaded everything of Jenna’s into the trailer and headed for the camel farm.

  The good news was Priscilla and Abbie had promised that Wednesday nights would be puzzle night. One family would host the get-together until the puzzle was finished, then it would be the other family’s turn. Puzzle night would be at the Burkharts’ until the songbird puzzle was complete.

  After a few tears and promises to see each other in a couple of days, Nadine and Charlotte climbed on their tractor and chugged on home.

  “What in the world?” she said as they pulled down the drive. There was a flower bed close to the road and one around the mailbox post. They had belonged to the previous owner, and neither Charlotte nor Nadine had felt obligated to fill them with flowers. But someone had. Bright wildflowers and pristine white daisies. They were beautiful, and Nadine had to remind herself that she was still driving a tractor. She wanted to look at the flowers behind her, but she didn’t want to run into the barn.

  “Who would have done such a thing?” Charlotte asked.

  The answer to that was almost immediately revealed. When they parked the tractor, she could see him, on all fours at the side of the house, planting more colorful wildflowers and more daisies.

  “What are you doing?” Nadine asked.

  Amos pushed himself back up onto his knees and wiped an arm across his brow. “Whew,” he said. “Planting flowers, I thought that was obvious.”

  “But why?” Nadine demanded.

  “You said you didn’t want to watch flowers die.”

  “Jah.”

  He grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “These are perennials. They’ll come back every year.”

  She stared at him.

  “They won’t die.”

  It might have been the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. In fact, she knew it was.

  How was she supposed to keep him at a distance if he kept being so blessed nice?

  “I didn’t ask you to do that.” Just that way.

  “I know.”

  “Nadine,” Charlotte admonished. “Maybe you should say danki instead.”

  She knew she should. No maybe about it, but if he kept on doing such nice things for her, then he would be harder and harder to resist. That was something she definitely didn’t want.

  Yet she hadn’t discouraged him. All she had done was made herself look like a wrinkled old shrew.

  She plopped down on the ground next to where Amos worked. “Danki,” she said.

  He frowned at her, then cupped one hand behind his ear. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

  She tossed a handful of grass at him and laughed.

  He was still grinning when he said, “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

  No, it hadn’t been hard, but she had to wonder what it would end up costing her.

  He straightened, pressing a hand to his lower back. “It’s been a while since I did this.”

  “You getting old?” she teased.

  “Of course not.”

  “Then how about planting the spring garden,” she said.

  He gave her a serene smile. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  She pushed herself to her feet and extended a hand to him. “Time for a break, I think.”

  He shot her a grateful smile, then took her hand and allowed her to help him to his feet.

  “Did you get Jenna all moved in again?” he asked as they made their way to the house.

  “Jah, but how did you know that’s what we were doing?”

  He shrugged in that loose way he had. “I just figured is all.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You and Charlotte are wonderful caregivers, but you’re also smart enough to know when it’s time to let go.”

  “And it’s time to let go,” Nadine murmured
as they let themselves in the back door.

  Charlotte wasn’t downstairs when they came in. Nadine supposed that she had gone upstairs to lie down. The day had been hard on her. She wanted to do what was right for her daughter, but what was right didn’t always mean what was easy.

  They were both going to miss having Jenna around, and they would both worry about her. They just had to remember that God looked after her and everyone at the farm, and it all had to be left up to Him. Cast all your cares upon the Lord. Easier said than done.

  “Too hot for coffee,” Nadine said. “You want a glass of water?”

  He shook his head as he eased down into one of the kitchen chairs. “I don’t understand those words.”

  The frown on his face said it all. He was losing it, right before her eyes. He was losing his memory or had one of those memory diseases. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Maybe it had just started. She’d have to be patient. “I said, it’s too hot for coffee.”

  “I heard what you said; I just don’t agree. Never too hot for coffee.”

  Then he was—she laughed. “I see.” Whew, for a moment there, she had been really worried.

  “What? Did you think I was serious?” he asked as she put on a pot of water to boil.

  “Of course not.” She let out a nervous chuckle.

  “You did.”

  She turned to him, hands on her hips. “You shouldn’t say things like that to people, Amos Fisher. Some of us take folks at their word.”

  “You really were worried.”

  “Only for a second.”

  “You care. You really care. Maybe even like me.” He stood as he spoke, his blue eyes bright with something akin to joy. Or maybe success?

  She blew out an exasperated breath. “I like you. Fine. How many times are you going to make me say it?”

  “Maybe a couple more. Just until you get used to the idea.”

  She held up her hands as if to ward him off, which was ridiculous. He hadn’t made a step toward her since coming inside. But that was how he affected her. “Getting used to it won’t change anything.”