Abram shut the barn door with a thump. He crossed the yard and climbed the steps to his house, suddenly feeling tired.
“There you are,” his mother said, looking up from setting a plate on the table for him.
“I was doing Leroy’s chores.”
“You’re a gut man.”
“Ya, gut for me.” He washed his hands and took his seat at the table.
“You don’t sound happy, sohn. What’s the matter?”
He gave her a rueful glance. “Rachel Ann just called me Gut Abram.”
“I gather it’s not what you’d like her to call you.”
He snorted as he split a roll open and slathered butter on it. “Nee.”
She poured a cup of coffee for both of them and joined him at the table. “You can’t make someone see you for what you are. They recognize something special in you or they don’t. If she doesn’t, she’s not the woman God set aside for you.”
“I know.” He picked up his fork and stirred the mashed potatoes on his plate. “She just went off with the Englisch guy again.”
His mother reached across the table and patted his hand. “I don’t see it going anywhere. Rachel Ann just needs to grow up a little. She’s experimenting a bit during her rumschpringe with a look at Englisch life. It’s just a rebellion against her parents because they’re so strict. But Abram, she’s not going to leave her family and her church.”
He shrugged and used his fork to stab a piece of chicken on his plate.
“I hope you’re right. But it still doesn’t mean she’ll look my way when she’s done with Michael and her rumschpringe.”
“She might not, but I think she’s a smart young woman. Time will tell.” She covered her yawn with her hand. “Well, it’s bed for me. Gut nacht.”
With that, she got up, set her cup in the sink, and left him to eat his supper.
5
A car pulled up into the drive and honked.
Rachel Ann found herself smiling when she saw Michael behind the wheel.
He leaned out the window. “Hey, pretty lady, wanna go for a drive?”
She bit her lip. “I don’t know, I just got home . . .”
“If you’re hungry we can grab a hamburger.”
“Nee, I mean no, I’m not hungry. Give me a minute. I need to tell my parents.”
“Don’t be late,” was all her mother said when she told her she was going for a drive.
She got into the car and fastened her seat belt. “I can’t be out late.”
“It’s Friday.”
“I’m tired. I’ve had some long days the past couple weeks. I’ve been working at the bakery in the mornings, you know, the one near the shop. Then I go to see Sam.”
“How’s the little guy doing?”
“There’s been no change.”
He bent his head, then looked at her. “That’s rough. Maybe a nice ride will help.”
They drove through an Englisch neighborhood where Christmas lights were beginning to twinkle on. Rachel Ann’s eyes widened as she looked at the colorful light displays. So many lights. So many colors. It looked like so much work. So much money. Christmas decorations were so simple in her community and definitely didn’t use electricity.
“What must the bills be for some of these displays?” she asked him.
He shrugged. “Pretty high. But it’s just once a year. How do Amish people decorate for Christmas? I mean, since you don’t use electricity?”
“We put evergreen boughs on the mantel, candles, that sort of thing. My mamm likes to put pots of poinsettias around. No Christmas trees . . .” She trailed off. Unless Sam improved dramatically—and soon—she doubted they’d be decorating or celebrating Christmas.
Michael left the Englisch neighborhood and headed out of town.
“Listen, I know where there’s a party.”
“Sorry, I can’t tonight. I’m just too tired. I’ll understand if you want to drop me off back home and go yourself.”
“Nah, it’s okay.” He shot her an easy grin. “We’ll have our own party. I have something to celebrate.”
He pulled into a convenience store parking lot. “What kind of snacks do you like?”
“Thanks, but I told you, I’m not hungry.”
“Tostitos and salsa it is. Back in a minute.”
When Michael returned to the car a few minutes later she realized she’d almost fallen asleep. He set a grocery bag on her lap and started the car.
“So what do you have to celebrate?” she asked him.
“School’s over for the semester,” he said as he drove. “Now I get to take a break. The parents are even talking like they might give me the money to go to Florida for the break.”
The drive relaxed Rachel Ann—maybe a little too much. She was finding it hard to stay awake even though Michael entertained her with stories of finishing up his final exam.
“Now I’m off until after the first of the year,” he said. “Even pulled up my GPA so my dad is happy.”
“GPA?”
“My grades.” He pulled down a deserted road and shut off the car.
Rachel Ann felt a little uneasy. She hadn’t ever parked with a man before. That was what the Englisch called it—parking. And when you parked you made out. She knew what it meant. Her heart jumped into her throat. She wasn’t ready.
He reached for her and she jumped back and her head hit the car window.
“Hey, easy! I’m not going to attack you.” He took the bag from her, pulled out a six-pack of beer, and handed one to her.
“I don’t drink much,” she said. What a thing to say. She didn’t drink at all. She started to hand it back to him, but he’d already popped the top on his own.
“It’ll relax you,” he told her. “And it’s just one. For me, too. Not taking a chance on a DUI.”
He turned and set the rest of the six-pack on the floor of the back seat. “Aren’t you going to drink your beer? Don’t tell me it’s your first beer.”
“Of course not,” she lied. She didn’t know why she lied. It just felt a little weird admitting she was twenty-one and had never tasted a beer.
She took a sip and scrunched her nose. It tasted a little bitter, a little yeasty. She didn’t like it much, so she took small sips. Michael didn’t notice. He unscrewed the jar of salsa, ripped open the bag of Tostitos, and began shoveling chips loaded with salsa into his mouth.
“Hungry, huh? Didn’t you have supper yet?”
“Hmm?” He popped another chip in his mouth. “Yeah, I had supper. You sure you don’t want some?”
“No, thanks.”
“Want another beer? You’re not driving.”
“No, this is plenty.” She took another sip and watched him work his way through the bag of chips.
She looked up through the sunroof. It was a star roof tonight. They seemed to be moving. Getting blurry. She blinked. Must have been her imagination. She took another sip of the beer and felt a warm glow in her tummy, a fizz in her bloodstream. This must be why people drank . . .
Michael reached across her to grab some paper napkins from the glove compartment. He wiped his fingers off and grinned at her. “That filled me to half empty.” He fingered the ribbon on her kapp. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down.”
She brushed his hand away. “It’s nothing special.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” He tugged at the ribbon and she yelped. “Sorry.”
“It’s held on with pins,” she said. She took another sip of the beer and realized she’d drained the can. Hmm. No wonder she was feeling so relaxed. She looked at Michael and sighed. Maybe she was being silly. He just wanted to see her hair.
She began pulling the covering pins from the kapp. Then she dropped it into her lap and reached to undo the bun at the nape of her neck. She loosened the strands of hair and ran her fingers through it.
“Wow, I had no idea it was this long,” he said as her hair tumbled free and fell to her waist.
> “I’ve never cut it.”
He touched it. “Soft.” He leaned closer. “Smells good. Like flowers.”
She sighed again. He was such a nice man. She leaned back in her seat and looked up at the sunroof again. The stars wheeled and turned.
* * *
Rachel Ann woke at the knock on her door. “Rachel Ann? Rachel Ann?”
She winced at the sound of her mother’s voice. Her head pounded, and she found she was lying in bed fully dressed. To her utter horror, Rachel Ann saw she’d thrown up on her lap.
“Rachel Ann?”
“I’m fine!”
“You sounded like you were throwing up.”
“No, I was just coughing. I think I’m coming down with a cold. If you don’t mind, I’m going to stay in bed for a little while.”
“Your dat and I will be going to the hospital. You’ll have to stay away from Sam until you’re well.”
Rachel Ann flopped back on her pillow, muttering under her breath. It’s what she got for lying. She sat up and began unpinning the bodice of her dress and carefully pulled it off. If she hadn’t felt sick to her stomach before, she certainly felt it now as she looked at the skirt of the dress. Ugh!
She balled up the dress and wondered what to do with it. Her mother would ask questions if she put it in with the laundry. She couldn’t throw it away—she didn’t own enough dresses—so for now all she could think to do was shove it under her bed and try to wash it while her mother wasn’t home. Moving around made her stomach roil. Climbing back into bed, she wrapped her arms around herself and took several deep breaths. Eventually, the nausea passed and she slept.
The next time she woke the room was filled with sunlight, sending shafts of pain into her skull. Squeezing her eyes shut, she groaned and turned to face the wall. Her hair fell in her face as she moved. She frowned. Usually she braided it before she fell asleep. Well, it was obvious the one beer on an empty stomach had affected her more than she’d thought. She supposed she should be grateful she hadn’t run into either of her parents when she came home.
Then her eyes shot open, and she bolted up straight in bed. She pushed back her hair and stared down at herself. Michael had persuaded her to take down her hair last night and he’d touched it. She couldn’t remember anything afterward. Had he persuaded her to do anything else? She pressed her hands to her temples and tried to remember, but everything was a blank.
Nausea swept over her again. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and barely made it to the bathroom in time. After she finished retching, she sank to the cold floor and began crying. What a mess she was, she thought as she wiped at the tears on her cheeks.
Finally, the chill from the floor forced her to get up and shower. She dressed, grabbed her soiled dress, and went downstairs. She washed her dress in the sink. Wrung it out the best she could and carried it upstairs to hang in her bathtub.
Deciding some fresh air might help her headache, she slipped on her jacket and took a cup of coffee out and sat in a chair on the porch to drink it. It was a little cool today, but she figured being outside might help her feel better.
“Guder mariye, neighbor!” Abram called from his porch.
She glanced over and waved and regretted the gesture when he took it as an invitation to walk over. She didn’t feel up to conversation.
“You didn’t go to the hospital with your mamm and dat,” he said as he settled his lanky frame into a chair next to hers.
“No, I thought I was coming down with something when I woke up.”
“Yeah?” He gave her a close look. “What?”
She closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the chair. “Stupidity,” she whispered.
“What?”
She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I just woke up feeling awful, and Mamm didn’t want me to give Sam anything contagious. But it’s just a bad headache.”
“So you’ll live?”
She stuck out her tongue at him. He laughed.
“What is it with you?” she asked him a little crossly. “You just seem to sail through life. Never in a bad mood.”
“Oh, I get them. I just don’t take them out on other people.” He gestured at her cup. “Is there more in the kitchen? I could use a cup.”
“Help yourself.” She knew she should apologize, but she just wasn’t ready to yet.
“Want me to refill your cup?”
She nodded and held it out to him. “Danki.” Here he was being nice even after she was cranky with him.
He came out with two cups and handed one to her. For several minutes the only sound was the creaking of his rocking chair and the occasional car passing on the road.
“I know you’re going through a lot, Rachel Ann,” he said quietly. “It’s a difficult, confusing time, and I apologize if I’ve seemed to look like I have all the answers. I sure don’t.”
“I didn’t have to bite your head off,” she told him.
He grinned. “I’ll survive. Headache better?”
“Some.”
“How much longer are you working at the bakery?”
“Just through Christmas.”
“Gut. It’s been a lot for you to work two jobs.”
She shrugged. “It’s the least I could do. It’s bringing in some extra money. And you know, I enjoy baking so it’s not been a hardship.”
“Rachel Ann, everything is going to work out. You’ll see.” He finished his coffee and set the cup on the table between them. “Did you have a nice time last night? I saw you go with Michael.”
“It was allrecht,” she lied. “We just went for a drive.” She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, waiting for her to say more. “What about you? Did you ever date an Englisch girl during your rumschpringe?”
He shook his head. “I’m not like you. I’ve never been interested in exploring the Englisch world.”
Right now Rachel Ann was remembering the phrase about curiosity killed the cat.
“I will admit I went to an Englisch party or two.”
“You did?” Shocked, she stared at him. He’d never shown any indication of that sort of behavior.
He reddened. “Don’t you dare share that with anyone.”
“Who would I share it with?” She studied him. “Was it because you weren’t interested in the Englisch world—or because you had to help your dat with the farm the last few years he was alive?”
“It wasn’t a sacrifice to help with the farm. I always loved growing things. Daed helped me discover how much I loved growing things. It was a gift worth far more than the land he left to me after he died.”
A brisk wind sent some leaves skittering down the drive. Rachel Ann shivered.
“Cold?”
“A little.”
“You should go inside before you do get sick.”
“There you go again, thinking you know what’s best for me.”
“Tell you what—if you’re feeling allrecht and your mamm’s okay with it, I’ll take you to see Sam at the hospital tomorrow. I haven’t seen the little guy in a couple days.”
“That would be nice.” She debated apologizing again for being cranky with him earlier, but he was already getting to his feet.
“Oh, here, I saw this in your driveway earlier this morning,” he said and dropped her kapp in her lap. “See you tomorrow.”
* * *
Abram saw what little color Rachel Ann had in her face drain, leaving her as white as the kapp he dropped in her lap.
“I found it before your parents came outside. I picked it up and saved it for you.”
She closed her eyes, and when she opened them she didn’t look at him. “Danki.”
He left her then. It wasn’t his business how the kapp had come to be in the drive instead of on her head . . . he’d speculated, of course. He couldn’t help it. Amish girls and women were never seen without them. Once, he’d even seen a toddler cry when her kapp slipped off her head.
If the wind had caught it
and snatched it from her head, surely she’d have tried to catch it. Maybe she’d accidentally knocked it off getting into the car—no, that couldn’t have happened. Women used covering pins to secure their kapps to their hair. Had she taken it off once she was in the car with Michael?
The last question plagued him most of all.
This Michael . . . he didn’t know anything about him since he was Englisch. What kind of man was he? Some Englisch guys liked to date Amish girls because they were so innocent, so much less assertive and more eager to please than Englisch girls. They thought they could talk the Amish girls into doing what they wanted.
Oh, he wasn’t saying all Amish guys were perfect gentlemen. There were weddings conducted outside of the usual wedding season, and births occurred less than nine months after some ceremonies. But he couldn’t help worrying about Rachel Ann seeing Michael.
He went into his house and tried to distract himself by doing some work on his books. The farm was in good shape financially. His father had been one of the first in the area to grow organic produce, and Abram had followed in his footsteps. People were more conscious of what they ate these days and willing to pay a little more for organic.
The pile of seed catalogs caught his eye. Winter was the time when farmers got a break and had a chance to plan their crops, order their seed, do basic maintenance. He decided in addition to potatoes, zucchini, squash, and corn, he’d add some rows of a new variety of squash this year.
“Abram?” His mother stuck her head in the doorway of his den. “Marlon is here.”
“Danki.” He walked outside to meet him.
“Got that desk ready?” Marlon, the owner of the furniture store Abram built furniture for in his spare time, sat in his buggy.
“It’s in the barn. Pull into the drive and we’ll load it.”
Marlon looked impressed when he entered the barn with Abram. He ran a hand over the satiny surface. “Gut work. I’m glad you could finish it in time. We have an Englisch customer who ordered it for his daughter for Christmas.”
They lifted it and carried it outside and loaded it into Marlon’s wagon. Marlon tied it down so it wouldn’t tip over on the ride into town.
One True Path Page 5
