by Sarah Price
She looked up and met his gaze. Her heart fluttered again, hating how close he stood to her. She wasn’t used to people invading her personal space. She wasn’t used to engaging in conversation with men. But she forced herself to stay calm as she replied, “No, I’m not wondering anything.”
Inside, she fought the urge to say otherwise, knowing full well that she was curious about everything. However, she didn’t want to get involved. She didn’t want to know anything about this man. He was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his broad chest. With his curly dark hair and bright blue eyes, she could almost imagine him as Amish, even though he was taller and more muscular than most men she knew. But, she warned herself, he’s not Amish and I am. It was dangerous and she knew it. The way he smiled at her on the hill when he asked for directions. The way he had rescued her from the market and those horrid tourists. The way her heart fluttered when he looked at her just now.
She had seen movies during her rumspringa, the only time in an Amish youths life when they were allowed to experience Englische ways without ramifications from the church. It was a time when the community and family looked the other way, didn’t asked questions, and prayed that their offspring would return to the community, eager to take their vows.
Most Amish youths tested their limits, going to restaurants or traveling to other states. Sometimes an Amish youth might approach the world of the Englische with more curiosity than was appropriate. They might drink or date. But, typically it was short lived. For the most part, the Amish youth emerged from their rumspringa, eager to take the kneeling vow and settle down within the church.
Sylvia’s time had not been spent experimenting with particularly risky behavior. She had avoided the Englische and their modern ways but she had favored the theatre. The fancy world that she experienced in the dark movie theatre thrilled her. She couldn’t imagine the world that was outside of her family, her farm, and her county. The beautiful scenery, the fancy houses, the beautiful clothing. Even how the characters spoke to each other.
Each movie had fascinated her. The lifestyle of the characters and plot of the movies intrigued her, especially when the stories centered on a romance or adventure. And always the main characters were so beautiful with chiseled features and blazing eyes. Yes, Jake Edwards looked the part. Unfortunately, while he may have been one of the characters in a movie, she knew that she most certainly was not.
While her mind had wandered, he seemed to be studying her. His own expression seemed reflective and she wondered what he had been thinking. Wherever he had traveled, he quickly came back and, with a shake of his head and a deep breath, he exhaled. It was a loud sigh that hinted of disappointment.
“Ok then, no questions.” He scratched his cheek and looked around the room. “Just work. I get it and that’s fine, Sylvia.” He forced a smile. “You finding everything OK here? The place really needs some fixing up…a woman’s touch.”
A woman’s touch. The words floating inside her head. To her parents, she was still a maedel…a girl. She would remain a girl until she married. She would change hands, being the responsibility of her parents until she became the responsibility of her husband. There was no middle ground. It dawned on her that no one had ever called her a woman. In fact, Sylvia had to think about the word, letting it roll around her head for a few minutes. Did she even think of herself as a woman?
“I’ve found everything I need,” she replied, her voice soft and barely audible.
“Great!” He clapped his hands once, the noise startling her. He gave her a quick grin as he moved toward the door. “I look forward to having you around, Sylvia. It’s too quiet here. Nice to have someone else on the property.” He hesitated before adding, “I’ll break through that shy shell of yours yet.” To her shock, he gave her a friendly wink before disappearing out the door.
Jake’s departure left an empty presence in the kitchen. For a moment, she stood there, staring at the place where he had just stood. No one had ever talked to her like that. No one had ever been so bold. So exciting. Winking was too close to outright flirting and she realized that she had been holding her breath. In fact, she had tensed all of her muscles. Now that he was gone, she took a few deep breaths and tried to relax, to shake the feeling from her core. But it was hard.
He left an impression on her that no one else had ever done. From the day in the field to the afternoon at the Farmers Market, she had realized that she was not herself around this man. But, it hadn’t mattered at that time. After all, she hadn’t thought that she’d ever see him again.
Now, she was thrown into his life…or was he thrown into hers? She would see him every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. How would she be able to protect her heart, to stop it from fluttering when he was near? She couldn’t work for him and avoid him at the same time. It just wasn’t possible. Nor could she fool herself into thinking that any of this was a good idea.
She spent the rest of the morning buried in her work. She was relieved that he didn’t come into the house again. He would have distracted her from her duties. And, regardless of the inappropriateness of his behavior with her, she took her job seriously. If she was being paid to clean this house, then clean it she would. It was interesting to work in a quiet house with no interruptions and without her mother to direct her. Sylvia found herself enjoying herself, even when she washed the windows, the one task she dreaded at her mother’s house.
The kitchen table was pressed against the wall, directly under the window. She had to move the table in order to clean the windowpanes. Standing by the windows, she used soapy water with vinegar to wipe the dirty sills. That was the only time she saw him during the morning. He was walking outside near the barn, carrying lumber and wearing a tool belt. But he didn’t glance at the house, at least not that she saw. She left the window open to get a fresh breeze in the room. Occasionally, she could hear noises from outside. Once, she heard him hammering at something. She couldn’t tell if he was in the barn or in the fields. The noise was a reminder that he was there and that she wasn’t alone.
The house was old and hadn’t been kept well. Sylvia didn’t know anything about the previous owners. In fact, she hadn’t even noticed this little farm during all of her years living nearby. Farms began to look alike after years of living on one, she thought. This one had obviously been neglected, unattended, and unloved for years.
Despite the “no questions” pact, she was, indeed, curious. She wondered why a man of such big city caliber would move to this unkempt house in such a small country town in the middle of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. It wasn’t uncommon for people to visit or even to rent a home or farm but those people never lasted. Life was too hard for those who had not been born into it. Besides, it was an area of generational residents, most of them Amish or Mennonite. Outsiders didn’t belong and rarely lasted…at least not for a long time.
Before lunchtime, she tackled the small bathroom. It had a faded cream cast-iron bathtub with a matching toilet and sink. The cabinet under the sink was dark wood. It hadn’t been cleaned in years. She did the best that she could to scrub the rings from the bathtub and toilet. But the sink was definitely stained. The floor was linoleum and in desperate need of being replaced. Still, when she finished, it definitely looked and smelled better. The cobwebs were gone and the floorboards were clean. She took satisfaction in that she had completed a job and done it well, even if it was hard work.
There was a clock hanging onto the wall next to the window. It chimed once and Sylvia looked up. It was half-past eleven. She wondered if Jake would be expecting a proper dinner at noon. She hadn’t even started cooking anything. Uncertain what to do, she glanced through the cabinets and refrigerator. There wasn’t a lot of food and he hadn’t said anything about cooking.
To be truthful, Sylvia had to admit that she wasn’t the finest cook. At her own home, it was mostly her mother who cooked all of the meals and that had been fine with Sylvia. When she had been younger, sister Sarah, Ana,
and Susie often helped their mamm while Sylvia entertained the two little brothers. Once her sisters married and left the farm, there were plenty of times that Sylvia might help her mamm but, clearly cooking wasn’t Sylvia’s favorite chore. She certainly wouldn’t know where to begin with the limited supplies in his kitchen. Yet, she knew that women prepared the food and Jake needed something to eat. She didn’t want to disappoint him and lose her job on the first day, especially if it meant going back to the market and possibly never seeing him again.
Her heart fluttered in her chest at the realization that she wanted to impress him. She knew that the line she walked was dangerous and childish. Foolish, in fact, for he was a grown man and she knew nothing about him except for one very important fact: he wasn’t Amish. And, she chided herself, that was the only fact that she had to remember.
It was twelve-thirty when he walked back into the kitchen. He greeted her with a smile, one that lit up his face. When he smiled, his eyes sparkled and there was an energy that filled the room. “Looks like you’ve been busy, Sylvia.” He strode to the sink, quickly washing his hands. There was dirt on his clothing and his boots were muddy. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help. I’d never be able to take care of all this without someone to tend to the house.”
She didn’t respond. To do so would sound prideful. Instead, she kept herself busy, bringing his lunch to the table. She set the plate of reheated ham and a baked potato in front of the chair, pausing to straighten the fork and knife that she had set by his plate. When she turned around, he was behind her and she couldn’t help but press against him.
“Oh.” She caught her breath and, quickly, took a step backward, lowering her eyes, embarrassed and flustered. “I’m sorry,” she whispered and moved over to the refrigerator. She thought she heard him laugh softly, more of a chuckle under his breath, but he said nothing as he sat down. She set down a bowl of applesauce next to his plate then retreated to the sink.
There was a moment of silence and then she heard him ask, “You are not joining me?” His voice was sincere and honest and when she looked at him, she saw that he was frowning, wondering why she was not having the midday meal with him.
“I…” She didn’t know what to say. It had never dawned on her to sit at the table with him. She had never sat with a man before, unless it was one of her brothers or her father. “I have my own lunch.” She paused. “It wouldn’t be proper,” she finally added.
There was an awkward silence. He didn’t say anything in response. So, Sylvia quickly busied herself with washing the frying pan while she listened to the gentle scraping of the metal fork and knife against his plate. It filled the room with a deafening noise that made the silence even more apparent. She hated the silence, wishing she was more interesting and had something to say. But that wasn’t her way, even if she wished she could be more outspoken.
“I’ll take you home after dinner,” he said, breaking the stillness of the moment.
She shook her head, even though his back was facing her. “Thank you but I can walk.”
He turned around and looked at her, a twinkle in his blue eyes. “I know you can walk. I see God gave you two legs,” he teased. “But I’m headed out anyway. I’ll drop you off. It’s not out of my way and will get you home quicker to help your folks with the afternoon chores.”
She knew better than to argue. He was her employer, after all. No one liked an argumentative person. Besides, she had already accepted a ride from him before when she didn’t even know much more about him than his name. Now, she was working for him.
“Perhaps Monday I can do the laundry,” she said. “If you have laundry facilities…”
He nodded. “Believe it or not, I do! They are out in the barn. Guess there wasn’t much room in the house to add on a laundry room and they probably couldn’t run plumbing down the basement.” He paused. “Maybe I’ll build on a room behind the bathroom one of these days. But I have enough on my plate for now. I suppose that can wait.”
Another silence. Several birds flew by the window, landing on a tree limb just outside. It was spring, after all. It was time for the birds to enjoy the warmer weather and contribute to future generations. Sylvia watched them for a moment. Robins. They were her favorites. The harbinger of spring…the season of outdoor work and new life. From new calves to baby kittens, spring seemed to renew the world around her. It was also the season when courtships began. Many of the Amish youths would start pairing up, get to know one another, and, if all went well, publish their intent to marry in the fall if they were both baptized members of the church.
She could sense him standing up and, before she knew it, he was next to her. She could feel him staring at her and she turned away from the window, busying herself with drying the last of the pans that she had used to cook his dinner meal. Had he been watching her? He didn’t move and she looked at him. Their eyes met again and, as before, she felt herself swept into a whole new world of emotion. Did he know what she was thinking? She felt the color rise to her cheeks and she looked away. It was so pleasantly uncomfortable, yet she knew that she was behaving foolishly. He was a man, an Englischer man. He was a widower. And she was just a plain Amish girl.
He set the plate on the counter and cleared his throat. “That was fine, Sylvia. Thank you kindly,” he mustered as he started to walk toward the door. “I’ll wait for you outside. I’m sure you have plenty to do at your parents’ farm.”
For a moment, she merely stood there, trying to gather her thoughts. She was ashamed of herself and her thoughts. She knew better than to get any silly ideas. After all, Englischer men only meant trouble for Amish women. She had heard of Amish girls who snuck off with Englischers, usually during their rumspringa and before they took their baptism. She had heard stories of girls with unwanted babies, banned from the community…sent away from their families. She knew the turmoil that had happened in her own family when her brother Emanuel had married an Englischer. Yes, she admitted, that turned around when his wife took the baptism. But it rarely worked out that way.
Besides, she scolded herself, he was a widower. What interest could he possibly have in someone like her? She had been foolish, indeed. Yet, there was something so warm about his presence, so strong about his gaze. Had she truly only imagined it?
Her heart continued to beat fiercely inside her chest. She knew that she should go home and never return but that was something that she wasn’t able to do, at least not without a lot of questions from her parents and even community. She wasn’t willing to tell them about how she had accepted a ride home from a complete stranger. Plus, she admitted, she didn’t want to go home and never return. For sure and for certain, she wasn’t able to put her finger on what it was but she knew that there was something that intrigued her about this farm and that man.
With a deep breath, she quickly cleaned up the rest of the kitchen before collecting her few belongings and going outside to where Jake stood by the truck. He was leaning against the hood, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes shut. The sun warmed his face as he waited.
For a brief moment, she paused and stared at him. With the sun shining down on his face, his skin almost appeared bronze. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and his arms were tanned and muscular. He seemed to sense her presence and looked up. Seeing her standing on the porch, he smiled and opened the truck door for her, waiting patiently for her to situate herself before he shut it and walked around to the driver side. They rode in silence, neither speaking as they mulled through their own thoughts.
The ride was only a short mile and a half but he drove slowly. When they approached the farm, Sylvia glanced over at Jake. “Perhaps you could drop me off here?” she asked.
He frowned, his one hand resting on the steering wheel and the other resting on the open window. “Whatever for, Sylvia?”
She stumbled over her words. How could she explain it to him? Why would he even question her? “I…it would just be easier, I suppose.”
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nbsp; The muscle in his jaw tightened but he did not respond. Instead, he continued driving the truck until her father’s farm came into view. No one was outside which helped Sylvia to breathe easier. He slowed down and put on his blinker, coming to a complete stop in front of the driveway.
“A compromise,” he stated.
She started to get out of the truck but he reached out to touch her arm. She jumped, startled by the feeling of his hand on her skin. It was warm and soft, a feeling that she had never felt before. No man had ever touched her. She lifted her eyes and saw his own searching her face.
“Sylvia, you don’t have anything to fear from me. I came here to find myself.” She started to protest but he held up his hand to stop her. “I know you said you aren’t wondering, that you don’t have any questions. But, it’s important that you know that all I’m looking for is…myself.” He hesitated. “You might not be able to understand.”
She was bewildered. She didn’t understand his words or why he spoke them. “I have to go,” she murmured and quickly jumped out of the car.
Her heart pounded inside of her chest as she hurried down the driveway. She stopped once to glance over her shoulder. He was watching her and, when he saw that she turned, he waved before slowly driving down the road. Sylvia hurried past the barn and into the house. She felt as though her world was turning upside down, that her day had been completely surreal. These things didn’t happen to people, she told herself. No, she quickly corrected herself. These things don’t happen to me.
