by Leanna Ellis
“There’s no way Andi would ever come here. So don’t worry about that.” He exited the stall, brushing past his father and scooping up the next bucket of feed.
Pop trailed him. “Are you going to turn your back on your family, your beliefs, your district then?”
With an exhausted sigh, Samuel dumped in the grains and straightened. He had wanted to avoid this discussion, especially when his stomach was growling, but it might as well be said. He faced his father, meeting his unrelenting gaze, and the banked fire in his gut ignited again. “Those are your beliefs, Pop. Not mine.”
His father blanched, his skin turning as white as the hairs in his beard. Samuel might as well have slapped his father hard across the cheek. He’d gone too far. Maybe his father’s beliefs weren’t his yet. Maybe they never would be. The fact was, Samuel didn’t know what he believed anymore. Nothing made sense. He couldn’t explain his feelings to his father, who would never understand and would only condemn them.
Back when Jacob was alive and living under the same roof, heated words were often hurled across the kitchen table. Jacob had dared voice his questions. Slammed doors and disapproving gazes followed. Like kindling, Samuel had taken the explanations and questions and laid them on the angry fire in his heart. He didn’t know if he’d ever embrace his father’s beliefs; Jacob never had. Pressure to conform and rebel yanked him in two directions. A white picket fence divided his world and poked at him. At some point, he’d have to make a decision and climb over into the serene yet penned pasture of the Amish or into the wide expanse of freedom beyond, in the English world.
But now was not the time. Backpedaling, Samuel said, “There’s more out there than what I’ve been taught. Jacob knew it and—”
“Ja, and Jacob paid the ultimate price. Have you not heard of the tree of knowledge of good and evil? There are some things not worth knowing.”
Arguing was pointless. “Jacob went to learn what he’d missed, and I am trying to understand so I can make a more informed decision before I bury myself in some district—”
“Is that what you think I’ve done?”
Samuel could no longer meet his father’s gaze. “You lied to me.”
Pop stepped back as if struck.
“You lied to me about Jacob.”
For a long moment, Pop remained quiet. Was he trying to figure out an answer, an excuse? It didn’t matter. Nothing could explain it away. Samuel slammed the lid back on the feed bin. Pop would never admit he’d been wrong. That wasn’t his way.
“Would you”—Pop’s voice sounded brittle—“would you break your mother’s heart by going down the same destructive prodigal path?”
Guilt rose inside him like steam. How easily his father could stoke that fire. Samuel wanted to ask, “What about your heart, Pop? Would you care?” but he dared not. In some ways, his question was born more of a desperate plea rather than anger, but Pop would never understand that either. “Why are you asking me this today?” he asked. “I still have chores.”
The corners of Pop’s firm mouth pinched tight. “Because I must take a trip.”
“A trip?” Rarely did Amish leave their homes or travel. Moving the family, or part of the family, from Pennsylvania to Ohio had not been the usual actions of a man steadfast in his Amish faith. “Where?”
“Will you be here to watch over your mother and take care of the workshop?”
Amish husbands and fathers didn’t just go off and leave their families and businesses. “What’s happened?”
His father sighed wearily. His shoulders, narrow and thin, seemed to carry the weight of the world. “It’s Levi.”
Of course, they’d been sent word that Hannah, Levi’s wife, had delivered twin boys. “Something wrong with the babies?”
“Nah, the boys are healthy and strong. Although Mother would like to go and see her first grandbabies, which I suppose would be good for her, it is a long journey.”
And Samuel knew neither would leave him alone for fear of what he would do. The words never had to be spoken, but Samuel understood the unspoken message. Regret heaped on top of his guilt.
But something must have happened. “Then what about Levi,” Samuel asked, “is causing you to go back?”
“If you’d been home last night instead of off who knows where, then you would have been here when we got word.”
Samuel pressed his lips together and kept from arguing.
Pop finally said, “Levi took a fall. Broke some ribs.”
Samuel’s muscles tensed and he felt a deep ache for his oldest brother. Then suspicion clouded his thoughts. Was Pop telling the truth?
“He’ll be all right in time.” Pop waved away what he read as Samuel’s fears. “But he needs his rest. Since he and Hannah bought that farm, it’s a critical time for planting, ja? So I’ll go and help out as I can. You stay with your mother while I am gone and—”
“No, Pop.”
His father’s eyes registered shock, bulging slightly.
The urge to leave welled up inside him. Whether Pop was telling the truth or not, Samuel had to do this. He needed to get away, to see Levi again, to think about his life on his own terms. But again, he couldn’t explain that to Pop, so he simply said, “You should stay here with Mamm. Levi is my brother. I’ll go. Besides, I can travel faster and easier on my motorcycle. I’ll be there in half the time you would by bus or train.”
Pop’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not a good idea. Levi expects me—”
“What are you afraid of, Pop?” Exasperation got the better of Samuel. It was one of those off-handed comments that he immediately regretted. He’d mouthed off, much the same way Jacob used to do, and now he braced himself for his father’s wrath. But for the first time in Samuel’s life, he didn’t see his father jerk his chin defensively. Instead, the look in the older man’s eyes twisted something in Samuel’s gut. He read fear—fear mixed with sorrow.
Of course, Samuel understood. Pop feared losing another son the way Samuel feared losing his only other brother. Jacob’s death had changed their lives forever.
“If you go,” Pop said, his voice deeper than usual, “will you come back?”
Maybe Pop wanted him to go. Maybe he had planned this, knowing Samuel would volunteer. Maybe it was all a ploy to get him away from the English girlfriend and save his soul. Would Pop lie about Levi? Yes, Samuel decided, he would. His father would do anything to get his way. Samuel jammed his hands in his pants pockets. “I don’t know.”
Chapter Nine
In truth, the poetry book drew him to Pennsylvania. It tugged on Samuel’s soul like a magnet. He wanted to hold it in his hands, touch the pages, and read the words Jacob had once valued. Could he find something, other than aggravating Pop, in common with his lost brother?
With his clothes folded and packed into a duffel bag, he hugged Mamm, who stood on the front porch. He dodged her gaze and the tears in her eyes. Quickly, he shook hands with Pop, avoiding his gaze.
“You’ll let us know when you arrive, ja?” Mamm said, her voice constricted.
He wanted to tell her he’d be okay, that he had to do this, but she didn’t know Pop had lied to her too. To her, Jacob had died over three years ago and was buried in an Amish cemetery in Pennsylvania. So he kept his thoughts wrapped inside himself. “Of course, Mamm.”
Without a backward glance, he took off on his motorcycle over the winding, curving roads leading out of Harmony Hollow. Even though the countryside still looked like the dead of winter, with gray, wilted brush and bare-limbed trees, the sun led the way, brightening his path and warming up the day like hot apple cider. Samuel skimmed over the blacktop roads, weaving around pits and broken limbs, before he hit the highway.
It was the right thing to do, he decided, as he swung by the gym where Andi worked as a personal trainer. It took him way out of his way, but he couldn’t just lea
ve without saying good-bye.
He’d been in the chrome and glass workout place a time or two in the past, and the receptionist recognized him and told him Andi’s location. Music blared from hidden speakers. Beyond the bank of televisions, which chattered like magpies, stationary bikes, treadmills, and Stairmasters all whirred and created a cacophony in Samuel’s ears. Andi had explained to him once about all the equipment and tried to get him interested in working out with her, but he hadn’t seen the need. Working in the shop and doing chores around his folks’ place was enough to keep him fit and trim.
Across the weight room, he saw her. Andi wore a tight-fitting warm-up suit that accentuated her slim curves. The jacket was only half zipped and revealed a good portion of cleavage. The man she spoke to seemed focused on her assets, not on her advice. Immediately, Samuel felt a kink in his gut.
Andi placed one foot behind her, and the man copied her movements, wobbling until she steadied him with a hand. His balance was obviously thrown off by his rounded belly and his inability to quit looking at Andi’s curves. She led him to an elliptical machine, got his feet placed correctly on the pads, then his hands on the handlebars, and set a bunch of buttons. The machine started, and the man glided along, getting nowhere quickly. Smiling, she made sure his movements were correct, then patted his arm reassuringly. Samuel had a feeling the man and others like him came here for reasons beyond cardio and BMI.
When Andi noticed Samuel, her smile brightened, which eased the knot in his abdomen. She said something to the man, then walked toward Samuel. Her smile was playful, secretive, making him remember all they’d shared last night, and coiled his insides with a new, more delightful tension.
“Well, hello,” she said as she approached. “Missing me already?”
Samuel became aware of others watching—a woman lifting weights nearby, a man walking on a treadmill. Samuel edged back a few steps to give space for a private conversation. Andi pressed her body against his, looping her arms around his neck and kissing him, declaring to those around: look but don’t touch. He hoped it would say the same to the men ogling her backside, but he suspected it would only act as a challenge to overblown egos.
She’d told him how the club was a pickup hot spot, where the ladies were always scoping out the men just as much as men were the ladies, unless their pleasure leaned toward their own sex. That shocked him, and she’d laughed and called him “farm boy.”
She cupped his shaved jaw. “I didn’t like waking up without you.”
He squeezed her waist, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to push her back a notch or pull her closer. “There were chores to be done.”
“Oh, I had a chore for you. You’ll have to come back and take care of it.” She winked and kissed him again. Just when she had him wanting more, she eased out of his grasp. “Wanna have dinner tonight? I have to work until four, but—”
“I came to say good-bye.” There. He’d said it. Better to put it out there and let her know before she muddled his mind.
Her smile congealed, then disappeared altogether. Her eyes turned hard as glass. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s my brother. The one in Pennsylvania—”
“I didn’t figure it was the dead one.” Her tone sounded flat.
“Levi got hurt,” he explained. “Fell off the roof of his new house or something and broke some ribs. He needs my help. He’s just bought a farm in Promise, and it’s time to prepare the fields and begin planting. If the work doesn’t get done, he won’t be able to make a living this year.” Samuel shrugged a shoulder. “So I’m going out there to help.”
Andi narrowed her eyes. “You told me neighbors help neighbors. So let ’em.”
“I need to be there.”
She crossed her arms over her stomach, pushing her breasts higher. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”
He felt his heels sinking deeper into his decision.
She stepped back. “How long will you be gone?”
“Not long.” He looked over at a barbell lying deserted on a mat, the way he’d abandoned the truth. His own reluctance to share his hopes and plans brought back a memory. He’d stood at the end of Jacob’s bed as his brother had packed his own bag so many years ago.
“New Orleans isn’t so far,” Jacob had offered as a consolation.
At fourteen, Samuel had resented Jacob’s ability to take off for parts unknown. Sounding even younger with his voice cracking, Samuel asked, “How do you know?”
“Because I’ve read all about it.” Jacob slapped a hand against Samuel’s chest, then grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll come back.”
He had, yet he hadn’t. The Jacob who had returned to his family months later had been different. And their lives had never been the same.
He sensed similar emotions now. Whatever awaited him in Pennsylvania would change him irrevocably. From the look in Andi’s eyes, she understood that too.
She drew a deep breath as if fortifying herself. She’d told him of breakups she’d experienced in the past. She wasn’t the type to give her heart easily, and she protected it with a vengeance. He could see her rebuilding the walls even now, protecting herself. “You’ll forget all about me. Hey, maybe I’ll forget about you too.”
“Never.” He reached for her, and she tried to tug loose, but he was stronger and pulled her close. Still, she remained stiff and unresponsive in his arms. He tipped her head back and stared deeply into her eyes, seeing the green spiked with bits of gold and brown all swirled together. “I love you, Andi.”
It was the first time he’d used those words, and he meant them. He loved her. But words held little meaning for her. She’d told him enough about her past, her parents, and ex-lovers for him to understand actions spoke much louder than even he could shout. He regretted the words even now. Not that he didn’t believe them or feel them in the very beat of his heart, but because those were the last words her father said when he left Andi and her mom—for good.
Her wounded gaze skittered away, and her mouth tensed. So he kissed her as hard and as long as he knew how, trying to express all the things he couldn’t say. When she began to soften beneath him, he pulled away. “I can’t promise you anything, Andi. Not now. Not yet. I don’t know what my future holds. But I want…I hope—”
She touched his lips with her fingers. Tears glimmered in her eyes, but she blinked them away and backed out of his arms. “Shut up. Just go.”
Chapter Ten
The sky remained a dark gray, clouds blocking out the stars and moon, and the air felt still, as if it held its breath—waiting.
Andi too was in wait mode. Waiting to hear from Samuel. Waiting to find out if he’d ever return. And she hated waiting.
As a girl, she’d watched her mother waiting on the couch, arms and legs tangled in knots of worry, as she waited for her latest boyfriend to come home. But first, she’d waited on Andi’s father hand and foot, fetching a bottle of beer out of the fridge when he snapped his fat fingers, washing his stinking clothes, which he never bothered to put in the clothes bin, and playing the little wife every chance she got. Vicki Mitchell waited on her man when he went to work, on the rare occasion he did. And she waited on him when he went out with the boys for a beer and came home smelling of whiskey and cheap perfume. Then Vicki waited for him to come home one last time, after he tossed over his shoulder, “Love you, baby.” But he never darkened her door again, and Andi had known he never would.
Well, Andi wasn’t like her mother. She wasn’t the waiting type.
She slammed the door to her apartment, not bothering to lock it, and threw her bag and keys on the coffee table. Samuel could go off to who the hell cared where, but she was not going to sit around waiting for him to come back. No, sirree.
Stalking into the bedroom, she refused to look at the bed—the mussed sheets, which hung off the mattress, and the note he’d left that
morning. She stared in the bathroom mirror and stripped off her work clothes, scattering her warm-up suit, then stood under the hot shower spray. The loofah scrubbed and scratched at her skin, as she rubbed it over every inch of her, chafing away the memories of his touch, punishing herself for caring what he did or where he went. She was a fool. Just like her mother.
When she couldn’t scrub deep enough to erase his memory, she shut off the water, batted away the shower curtain, and tramped into her closet, dripping water on the carpet. She chose her sexiest outfit with the skimpiest neckline and shortest skirt. First went the thick lotion, next extra sprays of Juicy Couture, then a thong, and finally the stretchy dress fabric over her bare skin. Towel-drying her hair, she shaped the curls with her fingers, leaving it in sexy disarray. She drew heavy lines around her eyes, as if the black liner could make it look like she hadn’t shed one tear, then she smeared her lips with gloss.
If she had looked through the mirror to her heart, she might have seen a lost little girl, pretending not to care. “It’s okay, Momma. We can help each other.”
“Shut up. You don’t know nothin’.”
But now, Andi didn’t bother with self-help talk. She slipped on five-inch heels and walked back into the den, where she came to a sudden stop.
A dish towel partially hid a book on the kitchen table. Samuel’s book. Red, hot rage rumbled deep through her and then erupted in a blast of quick, jerky movements. The book hit the wall, splatting onto the carpet, splitting the spine and twisting pages. She gave it an added kick, and her shoe bolted, knocking into the television. Teetering on one heel, she gasped and sputtered and fought the tears until she wrestled them back under control and forced them into that deep, dark, secretive place.
Brushing chaotic strands of hair out of her face, she stood in the living room of her apartment. Silence beat against her ears. A new eruption followed, not as violent as the first, but an eruption nonetheless. She kicked off her other shoe, gathered up the book, and shoved it into a grocery bag. Dumping it at the door, she drew a steadying breath, readjusted her skirt, shoved her feet into her shoes again, grabbing the wall for support, and hooked a lock of hair behind her ear.
