Romancing Nadine

by Amy Lillard

  Or maybe being surrounded by beautiful flowers was enough. And they were beautiful—fluffy white, vibrant red, sweet pink. She had never seen so many azaleas in one place in her entire life.

  “This place is busy,” she said, looking around at all the people. Some were walking like the two of them, but many were still in their cars, looping through the park, enjoying the flowers from the comfort of their vehicles.

  “It always is,” Amos told her. He pulled out one of the cameras and started messing with it, she figured to get it ready to actually take pictures.

  “Here.” He handed it to her.

  “What am I supposed to do with it?”

  “Take pictures of the flowers.”

  She looked at it, turned it over and then back again.

  “Here,” Amos said. “It’s easy. Look through here and when you have the shot you want, then click this button here.” He demonstrated taking a picture of the bush nearest them. “Then you wind it like this to get it ready for the next photo.”

  She nodded. “I think I’ve got it.”

  She heard the now familiar click and realized that Amos had taken another picture with his own camera. She turned, only then realizing that he had taken a picture of her.

  “Amos,” she started, her voice low. She wasn’t sure if she could be flattered or appalled that he had done such a thing. Photographs of people were strictly forbidden. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because I want to remember today,” he simply replied.

  “You could have bought a postcard.”

  “Relax, Nadine. Who’s going to know except the two of us?”

  “No one, I suppose.”

  “Right.” He snapped another picture. Thankfully, this one was of the flowers only. Nadine could live with that.

  They strolled leisurely through the park, taking pictures along the way to the picnic tables closest to the lake. All the tables were full. And why not? It was a beautiful day and the flowers were blooming—was there really any other place to be?

  Then she remembered—Amos’s friend Pete had gone to the hospital to see his dad.

  “Let’s eat by the water,” Amos said. He reached into his bag and pulled out a sheet. Then he spread it over the ground so she wouldn’t get grass stains on her dress.

  Several people stopped to look at them. She supposed two old Amish people in the middle of the park wasn’t something they had seen very often. Still, it was a little unnerving. Everyone in Wells Landing took the mix of Amish and Englisch in stride. But they weren’t in Wells Landing anymore.

  “Just ignore them.” Amos sat cross-legged on the sheet and patted the place next to him. She eased down facing him, feeling a little like she was on display. She had encountered those curious stares before, but for some reason, today they felt different. Or maybe she was different. Back then she had been younger and not as rigid. She remembered the feeling. The question was why didn’t she feel that way now. She had no answer other than life changed people. But she didn’t like the change, and that was something she needed to correct.

  “I suppose you’re used to it,” she said.

  Amos handed her a sandwich and a zipper baggie full of potato chips. “How’s that?” He unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite.

  “You worked with the Englisch so I figured you were used to being the only Amish in the room.”

  He shrugged. “I suppose. I never notice things like that.”

  “It doesn’t bother you.” It was impossible for her to make it into a question.

  “Nope. Why should it? We’re all just people.”

  He was right, and yet there were times—like now—that it didn’t feel as if everyone was the same.

  “It only feels different and weird if you allow it to.”

  He was right again. She should have been used to it by now. Amos was great at everything. Including philosophical questions about human nature.

  “How did we get on this subject anyway?” She took a bite of her sandwich.

  “It’s peanut butter and jelly,” he said. “I thought it would keep better. Plus the tomatoes aren’t ready so bologna is out.”

  “You like tomato on your bologna sandwich?”

  “It’s the only way to eat it. White bread, a little mayonnaise, a big slice of tomato, salt and pepper.”

  “And bologna,” she added.

  “Or not. I like tomato sandwiches too.”

  “I think you just like tomatoes.”

  He chuckled a bit and shook his head. “I can’t deny it.” He took another bite of his sandwich. “Have you ever tried Cora Ann Kauffman’s tomato pie?”

  “I can’t say that I have.”

  “The best. That girl can cook, let me tell you. If she wasn’t still a teenager, I might marry her just for her kitchen skills.”

  Nadine made a face at him. “You’re a flirt, Amos Fisher.”

  “I am not; I’m merely stating a fact.”

  “First you’re going to marry me, then you’re going to marry Cora Ann. You can’t have it both ways.”

  “You told me to get lost,” he reminded her.

  Because she had wanted to ignore him. Forget about him. She had tried to. How hard she had tried. “If I can’t go fishing with anyone else then you can’t talk about marrying someone else.”

  He grinned as if he had won something. “Deal.”

  “Does Pete come down and visit his father often?” It was time for a change of subject.

  “Jah. Twice a month or so.”

  “Why is he in the hospital here?”

  “There’s a veterans’ hospital close. He’s been in and out a lot. Not sure why. I think he fought in one of the wars.”

  Nadine nodded, not knowing what else to say. So many questions popped into her mind, but none that she felt comfortable asking. There were too many gray areas. “I’ll pray for him.”

  “I’m sure Pete would appreciate that.”

  * * *

  “I’m sorry,” Charlotte said. “Really sorry.”

  The three of them, Nadine, Charlotte, and Amos, stared at the mess of roots and flowers.

  “I don’t understand what she has against the flowers,” Nadine said.

  “It’s not the flowers,” Charlotte replied. “She’s just a puppy.” She turned to Amos. “I really am sorry.”

  He kicked at the dirt that still clung to the daisies’ roots. “I know. It’s just one of those things.”

  “You’re not going to replant the flowers, are you?” Charlotte’s tone was wistful.

  “Of course not,” Nadine said. “That would be ridiculous.”

  Amos looked from the wilted flowers to Charlotte. “I could move the planter.”

  “Amos, really. It’s just flowers,” Nadine protested.

  “But they were your flowers.”

  “I’m sorry,” Charlotte said.

  “Where is the beast now?” Nadine asked.

  Charlotte sighed. “In the barn.”

  “Alone?” Nadine asked. “Is that a good idea?”

  As if in answer to her question, a loud crash sounded from the direction of the barn.

  “Oh, no!”

  The three of them took off running.

  Nadine saw it before she could make sense of what she was seeing. A gold and pale green dog, leaving green pawprints all over the packed-dirt driveway and the grass between the house and the barn. Green paint drips were scattered across the same. Splatters of green graced the outside walls of the barn and a small pool of the same color puddled in the doorway.

  “Goldie!” Charlotte screeched.

  “You might have to change her name to Greenie,” Amos joked.

  “Hush up, Amos Fisher, and help me catch her.” Charlotte rushed toward the dog, who figured it was all a game and dashed away whenever she got too close. “Nadine!”

  “Goodness!” Nadine shook her head and started after the dog.

  But the more they chased her, the more she ran, to and fro and back throu
gh the paint still pooling in front of the barn.

  “Where did the paint come from?” Amos asked. Goldie let him get close to her, so close, but before he could grab her, she dashed away once again.

  “Previous owner,” Nadine huffed. She slowed her steps, mostly to catch her breath but some to sneak a little closer to the dog. It was mind boggling that one puppy had so much more energy than three grown adults.

  “I’m too old for this,” Charlotte cried, starting after the puppy once again.

  “You’re too old?” Nadine scoffed.

  “Stop,” Amos called. Everyone obeyed, even the dog. “This is making more mess.”

  Pawprints were everywhere, and now they were mixed with a few footprints.

  “Everyone go to the porch and sit down.”

  “Why?” Charlotte asked.

  “Just do it,” Nadine said.

  “What about the dog?” Charlotte again.

  “Ignore her. If we don’t chase her, she won’t run. If she doesn’t run, then she’s not making a mess,” Amos explained.

  “Got it.” Charlotte finally turned and made her way toward the porch.

  The three of them eased down onto the steps.

  “How long are we supposed to sit here?” Charlotte asked.

  “Until she gives up and comes over for attention.”

  The pup darted around for a minute or two more, but when it became apparent that the humans weren’t chasing any longer, she trotted over.

  “Wait,” Amos said, making no move toward her. He was sitting on the steps his hands dangling between his knees.

  Goldie moved closer still. But he wasn’t moving to pet her. Her puppy face seemed to pull into a frown, and then she bumped her head under his hands.

  Amos quickly snatched her up. She wriggled against him, doing her best to lick his face.

  “You’re getting paint all over your shirt,” Charlotte cried.

  “It’s either me or everywhere else.” He stood but held on to the struggling dog. Once she realized that he wasn’t going to let her lick his face or put her down, she began to squirm and paw at him.

  “What do we do?” Charlotte cried.

  “Get a towel,” Nadine said.

  “Good idea.” Amos nodded and held tight to the dog.

  Charlotte rushed into the house, returning a moment later with a bath towel. She handed it to Nadine, who shook it out and wrapped it around the puppy.

  “Amos.” Charlotte shook her head. “Your shirt is ruined.”

  He looked down at himself, but there was no good thing to say about his shirt. Or his pants for that matter. There were even a few drops of pale green paint on his shoes and in the snow-white strands of his beard.

  “We need to give her a bath,” Nadine said, then turned to him. “Amos too.”

  “Really funny,” he returned. He looked down at himself, holding his hands out as if somehow that would help.

  “I washed Daniel’s clothes that you wore the other day. You can put those back on.”

  Amos nodded.

  “We can run you a bath and just throw the dog in with you,” Nadine offered.

  “Really, really funny.”

  “We’ve got to do something,” Charlotte put in.

  “Go upstairs and run Amos a bath. I’ll dunk the demon in the kitchen sink.”

  Charlotte pursed her lips. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

  Nadine gave a quick nod. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Amos and Charlotte both turned to look at her.

  “What?” she asked. “Let’s put this plan into action.”

  * * *

  Most of the paint came off the dog, but of course, none of it came out of Amos’s shirt. But Amos promised that he wasn’t worried about that.

  Charlotte loaned him her husband’s shirt and pants again, and he tossed his others into the trash barrel, stating that he had so many sets of “work clothes” that he didn’t see the need for another.

  “What are we going to do about that dog?” Nadine asked, once everything had been cleaned up as much as it could be. The barn would have to be repainted and the grass would just have to grow. Other than that ...

  “Obedience school?”

  She laughed. “How do you always stay so happy?”

  He shrugged. “I guess it’s easy if you haven’t had many trials in your life.”

  They were sitting out under the big oak tree at the side of the property in a free-standing swing that Jenna and Buddy had brought back from an auction. They moved easy, just enough to call it swinging but not enough that their feet ever left the ground.

  “You think so?” Was that all there was to it? “If that’s truly it, then those of us who have suffered are doomed to be grumpy.”

  “Who told you that you were grumpy?”

  “Charlotte.”

  He opened his mouth, but she never knew what he was going to say. She held up one finger to stop his reply. “Before you say anything, I must remind you that it’s a sin to lie, and unnecessary. I know how I’ve been acting.

  “I never used to be this grumpy,” she continued. “So I’m not sure when it started. But looking back . . .” She paused, trying to find the right words, hoping that the ones she said didn’t sound as sad out in the open as they did in her head. “Looking back, I can’t remember a time when I was truly happy.”

  He stopped the swing and shifted to face her. “Not ever?”

  “I remember little things, but that core happiness . . . I know I had it once. What happened to it?”

  “You let life steal it away.”

  Life. Was that the answer?

  She jumped when Amos took her hand into his. “Abraham Lincoln said that most folks are about as happy as they allow themselves to be. Maybe you haven’t allowed yourself to be happy in a while.”

  To her horror, Nadine felt tears sting her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was let Amos Fisher see her cry and over something that started with a no-good puppy and a loose lid on a paint can. She blinked furiously to keep them back. “How did you learn something like that?” she asked, hoping to distract him while she pulled herself together.

  “I read it on a calendar.”

  The idea that such wisdom was out in the open, and she had only learned about it today struck her as incredibly funny. Or maybe it had just been a long afternoon. Whatever it was, she started laughing, side-splitting guffaws that she couldn’t have controlled had she even wanted to. Her laughter felt good, and it hid the fact that she had, only moments before, been so close to tears.

  It took her a bit to get herself together. She was aware that Amos sat, watching her, waiting for her to finish whatever emotional whirlwind had taken control.

  “It’s true, you know,” he finally said. “We all deserve happiness and sometimes it’s up to us to make our own.”

  “Is that what you’ve done?” she asked. “Made your own happiness?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I just never wanted to be thought of as sad or grumpy. Unhappy.”

  “But there are times—” she started.

  “Jah. Of course. The trick is not to let them control your life.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Not let them control her life.

  Was that even possible?

  According to Amos, it was. And he was living proof.

  Nadine stared into the darkness and thought about lighting a lamp just to have something to look at. If she was going to be awake, she might as well be able to see something besides darkness.

  She pushed herself up in her bed and lit the lamp on her bedside table. The flame flickered, casting shadows around the room.

  As happy as they want to be.

  She couldn’t imagine. But when she thought back to the times in her life when she had been sad, it had been at the hands of life. Losing Samuel. Losing Daniel. Jenna’s accident. Losing Jason. Added to a host of little disappointments that happened over her lifetime despite her best efforts
and prayers.

  She had prayed but been denied. And the thought only deepened her sadness. Had she been denied by God? Didn’t the Bible tell them to be righteous and pray and all things would come to them? Did that mean she wasn’t righteous? Now there was something to think about when it was first light outside. It would take too long to figure it out so she shouldn’t start when it was already dark.

  A soft knock sounded on her door.

  Nadine sat up a little straighter. “Come in?” she gently called in return.

  Charlotte eased open her door. “I saw your light,” she said. “I wanted to check on you. Everything okay?”

  “Jah,” she said. Just doing some soul-searching.

  “I’m sorry again about today. If you want me to find her another home ... well, I’m sure Obie will take her back if nothing else.”

  Nadine shook her head. “She’s a pain, but surprisingly enough, she’s starting to grow on me.”

  “I appreciate that,” Charlotte said. “I’m already pretty attached to her.” The sheen of tears in her eyes was enough to give her away on that fact.

  Nadine drew her feet up. “Wanna sit?”

  Charlotte moved into the room and perched on the edge of Nadine’s bed.

  “I think I owe you an apology,” Nadine started. “I’ve been a little out of sorts lately. I just realized it tonight. I’m working on why, and how to correct it.”

  “I’ll accept your apology, if you’ll accept mine,” Charlotte returned.

  “You’ve already apologized several times about the flowers.”

  “Not about the flowers.” She ducked her head. “Here lately it seems that I tend to overreact and lose sight of myself and what’s important. I’m working on that too.”

  “Have you thought about talking to someone?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I’m going to be okay.”

  “If you’re sure. No one has to know.”

  “I’ll be all right.” Charlotte smiled.

  “If you change your mind, I have it on good authority that the Wells Landing quilting circle is a great place for womanly advice.”

  “Aren’t all sewing circles?”