Rebecca was uncomfortable with the territory the pep talk had gone into, and she took both my hands softly between hers. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. But, please, please be good.” There was almost a look of desperation on her face.
What was her angle? Was she worried, if I got kicked out of the community, that Noah would go with me—and what about the warning from Ruth about Martha? Could my initial instinct about the woman be so wrong? Martha had clearly been on my side during the laying down of the law by the bishop. I decided to file away Ruth’s words to be on the safe side. But, I wasn’t going to count Martha as an enemy until she proved to be one.
“Noah looked like he wanted something—what was his deal?” I asked his mom, a little worried about what she’d say.
“Oh, yes...well, he wants to have a few minutes alone with you to discuss this matter. Really, it’s mine and Amos’s fault that we allowed him such free rein immediately after the accident—calling you on the telephone and behaving as if the two of you were already courting. Now, though, things must be different.”
“Can I spend any time with him at all?” I hoped I didn’t sound as if I was whining, but the thought of being separated from him while I was learning to be Amish was almost too much to bear.
Before Rebecca could say a word, Ruth took over. “It’s not only up to Rebecca and Amos. Now that you’re under mine and James’s authority, you’ll be looking to us about the rules you must live under in this household, which are the Church’s Ordnung, but not solely.”
I slouched down in my seat. I knew a parental lockdown when I saw one coming. Only, I also knew that Ruth wouldn’t be as easy to manipulate as Dad was. I adjusted my voice to sound resigned, I needed both these women on my side.
“What are the rules?”
“After this evening you will not be allowed to spend time alone with Noah unless there is a chaperone present.” And for good measure, Ruth added, “And the two of you will not be acting like a couple, either. That is exactly the kind of thing that will get Abram’s beard in a tangle.”
My optimistic personality chose to hear only the part about after this evening. “Do you mean I get to talk to Noah, tonight—in private?”
Rebecca answered, “Yes, but only tonight, until you’re officially a courting couple. Ruth and I understand how things have changed suddenly from what you were prepared for, and we feel it is best to let you do your talking with Noah now. Hopefully, this will keep you from mischief later.” She held my eyes for a significant few seconds before pushing her chair out.
“I do believe Noah is waiting on the front porch for you.” Rebecca pointed toward the hallway. “We’ll be out back on the porch.”
I caught Ruth’s wink from behind her glasses as she walked by. One second of solitude and I was sprinting down the hallway.
I didn’t even have to touch the knob, for Noah had the door open just as I reached it. We stood a few feet apart, both breathing deeply and both waiting.
Maybe it was the dress and cap I wore that suddenly made me feel as though I really was an Amish girl. Or perhaps it was Noah’s eyes, wide with anticipation that raised the tingling waves of nervousness from my belly.
For the first time in a long while, I didn’t know what to do with Noah.
2
Noah
As soon as she walked through the door, her lovely scent hit me—the familiar smell of warm lavender. My heart thumped, excitement coursing through my body, making me almost too weak to stand proper.
Under normal conditions, feeling this weak would make me think I was ill, perhaps with the flu, but Rose making me feel like this was all right, wonderful, to be exact.
She looked anxiously at me, rocking softly on her feet, unsure of what to do. Was it the talk with the Elders that was holding her back? Seeing her tug her dress down from her waist with an annoyed expression briefly lighting her face, I decided that it was probably the unfamiliar dress causing her shyness. I couldn’t keep the smile from pulling at the sides of my mouth.
Even though my mind was swimming with questions about the meeting, my body wanted only one thing. I stepped forward, pulling Rose into my chest. I bent down, burying my face in her sweet-smelling skin. I couldn’t help it; even though I should have been more careful, I nuzzled the curve of her neck, feeling her warm pulse flutter under my lips. I breathed her into my soul.
Rose was perfectly content like that; me holding her tightly on the front porch, open for the whole world to see. After a minute or so, sanity regained hold of my mind, though.
The last thing she needed was to be seen hugging me so romantically.
I disengaged from her glorious arms but didn’t release her hand. I pulled her over to the porch swing and down beside me. Feeling on edge and fighting my body’s desire to press her against me again, I began pumping the swing vigorously with my legs until we were moving back and forth briskly.
“Gosh, Noah, if you don’t tone it down, we’re going to be airborne in no time at all.”
Rose sniffed and grinned at me. She was so beautiful it made my heart ache.
I resisted grabbing her up again, although that’s what I wanted to do more than anything in the world. Looking at her face, I was once again amazed at her beauty. I knew that beneath the cap were long, brown locks that were soft and sweet-smelling, but even with her luxurious hair hidden from me, her face still took my breath away. Her skin was smooth and her cheeks were always slightly flushed. The small nose and wide mouth reminded me of the girls I’d seen on the magazine covers at the grocery—but it was her eyes that made her truly striking. They were large, and the lightest blue—the color of a robin’s egg.
Even more than her beautiful face, the playful tilt of her lips and the fiery sparkle in her eyes tightened my insides.
Glancing away, I took a breath of air in an attempt to gather my wits and calm the hot desire that pushed through my veins at the sight of her. “Sorry about that. I’ve just been a wreck all afternoon worrying about you.” I smiled and risked a sidelong look before continuing, “Guess I’m still on edge.”
The puppy, Hope, appeared at our feet and whined, staring up at us. Rose reached down and gathered the squirming fluff into her arms. Once she had the puppy settled onto her lap, she looked up at me.
She held my eyes in a serious gaze. The look was out of place on her usual flirtatious face.
“Yeah, I bet you were worried—it was pretty intense.”
I leaned into her, deciding it was better to get caught sitting too close to her than to be overheard saying something we shouldn’t be saying. “What happened?”
“I was thoroughly warned to keep my paws off of you until I’m allowed to join the church, for starters,” she said with a twinge of resentment, but not as much as I would have expected.
“Mother was so upset when she saw what was going on. Bishop Lambright picked Father up from his worksite and brought him directly here.”
“Seems like a whole lot of inconvenience for several grown men on a work day—and all for little old me.” Rose sighed, a hint of a smile playing along her lips. Her eyes were shining, showing the spunk that I was accustomed to.
I loved that reckless spirit, but it also scared the hell out of me. Rose might look the part of the obedient Amish girl in her new getup, but I knew that under the material she was still a plucky English girl.
Letting my eyes wander over her beautiful face, the bright blue eyes, arched brows and high cheekbones, I realized that I would love this girl forever, whether she was difficult or not. It was her wildness that was most endearing to me of all.
“My family expected there to be a meeting in the next week or so—maybe a dinner together or a visit around the neighborhood to make introductions. Not this kind of ambush. Father was furious. He’d already spoken to the others and thought matters were set.” I stared at the road, expecting to see the bishop’s buggy appear from around the bend at any moment.
“So, uh, doesn’t your dad
get to make the decisions around here?”
Her small hand clamped between my bigger ones made Rose seem unusually vulnerable. I wished that I could tell her that my folks had some say about her future, but they didn’t. Unless they got others to side with them...and it went to a church vote. That was the last thing in the world we needed. Way too unpredictable. But I didn’t want to get Rose more riled up than she already was by filling her in about all that.
“No, Father can’t make the decision on his own to allow you into the Church. That will be decided by the bishop, ministers and the deacon.”
Confusion flashed across her face.
“Who’s the deacon?”
“Marcus Bontrager. He’s only been in the position for a few months. You see, he’s taking over the job for James Hershberger, and he certainly doesn’t want to ruffle any feathers so early on.”
While I was talking I could see that as her fingers stroked Hope, Rose’s mind was working on things.
“What does he do?” she whispered, having caught on early about the need to keep certain conversations secret.
“Oh, I don’t know everything, except for the main job. That’s to be a messenger of sorts.”
By the pursing of her lips and raised eyebrows I could see that she was not getting me.
“Marcus is the fellow that will go to a family’s home if there are any problems that need dealt with. He’ll talk with them about it, maybe dish out some advice, and then report back to the bishop and other ministers.”
“So let me see if I got this straight. Bishop Lambright is the head honcho, and if he says that I can join the church, then it’s okay...right?”
If it were only that simple I wouldn’t be so worried, but Rose didn’t need to feel my anxiety. I lied, “Yeah, for the most part.” Even I didn’t understand all the technicalities of the process.
Still leaning in to me, Rose glanced around to be sure that we were alone. I could hear the kids playing in the distance, and softly, the voices of the older folk were carrying to my ears also. Hopefully, we had enough time to talk everything out thoroughly, but I highly doubted it.
“What if the bishop won’t have me—then what?”
Her voice had the sound of solid resolve that gave me hope that she’d be willing to do anything to make it work out. “If Abram supports you joining, then the rest of the community will go along with it, but if he’s against the idea, then Father, James, Marcus and Mervin could go against him, and you could still be allowed. But really, we can’t trust how that would go. Marcus is just not the type of guy to stand up for something that might get him into hot water, and then there’s Mervin...”
“Yup, I know. Miss-spoiled-rotten-Ella’s daddy probably isn’t too happy that you picked a heathen over his perfect little daughter.”
The way she said it, all jealous and uptight, made me smile. She was adorable. Here she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and she felt threatened by a cold fish like Ella Weaver.
“Yeah, you get the idea.”
“But if your dad and Mr. Hershberger sided with us, and Marcus abstained, then we’d be tied,” she said, sounding all hopeful and cheery about it. She had no idea what she was saying, she didn’t know what she was dealing with.
“Ahh, look, I don’t know about the abstained thing, but the best situation all around is if Abram just goes along with it. I don’t think anyone, except Mervin, will give us a hard time otherwise. And he’s only one minister.”
While Rose was mulling over what I said, I started to think how I didn’t want to spend the entire time I had alone with her talking about the problems we still faced. I was worn out from the mess and wanted nothing more than to forget it for a little while.
“So, it’s up to me to be a good girl and win the crusty old bishop over, huh?”
Rose fluttered her eyes a bit and turned the side of her mouth up into a smile. I started to forget everything.
The hell with everyone; I caught that crooked smile in my mouth, pushing her lips apart with my tongue.
She pushed closer into me, her mouth working against mine hungrily for a blissful moment. But too short a time, before she wrenched away from me looking around with a guilty face. And here I was worried about her behavior. Rose was the one with some sense that evening.
“Noah, really, we need to be more careful about stuff like that.”
The worried look on her face transformed into satisfaction that we hadn’t been spotted, and she settled herself back against my chest and under my arm. She understood that we couldn’t be caught kissing, but she didn’t seem to get it that sitting this cozily would get us into a heap of trouble also.
I didn’t have the heart...or the willingness...to separate from her, though. Into her hair I murmured, “It’ll all work out. We just have to be patient a while longer, that’s all.”
I only half believed it myself.
3
Rose
My heart skipped against my chest as I stared out the back window trying to tell who was in the buggy following us. All I could see was a black hat, the glazed pale shadow of a face and a bushy beard beside an equally hazy woman with a white cap and dark-colored dress. Maybe she had glasses on; I wasn’t sure. Leaning back on the green stiff-as-a-board cushion, I sighed out irritably. It probably wasn’t Noah’s family. With all the Amish people in the community whisking along on their way to Sunday church service, the chances of Noah getting behind us were slim at best.
“Is everything all right, Rose?” Ruth asked pleasantly.
The woman was way too perceptive for her own good.
Mr. Hershberger, whom I hadn’t been invited to address by his first name, was in front of me, only inches away, in fact, and I could smell the faint scent of his pine-scented cologne.
Who would have thought that old Amish men would try to make themselves smell nice?
“Oh, nothing, I guess,” I answered as I fidgeted with my hands. I held them closer to my face to examine the rough, dry skin. They were certainly clean, though.
Out of all the work I’d done that week, the laundry was the worst. And I only had to care for the clothes of three people; I could only imagine what it was like for poor Sarah and Rachel. But then, they did that chore together, so maybe it wasn’t so bad.
My adventures with the laundry had started with Ruth showing me in animated detail how to separate the colors and types of clothes. I’d made a pile of Mr. Hershberger’s pants, a pile of dresses, another for whites and the last for towels.
That was the easy part.
I had been fascinated at first with the large old-fashioned washer that was set up in Ruth’s basement corner. There were two white tubs beside the washer, all neatly organized to be as efficient as any woman could put together. Ruth had filled the washer with almost scalding-hot water and the other two with cold water—one for the fabric softener and the other for rinse.
She’d done most of the talking early on before she’d turned on the incredibly loud generator, which started the spinner in the washer. At that point, seeing the washer was power-generated, I thought the project wouldn’t be difficult. I quickly learned differently. My first rude awakening had come when Ruth told me to fish one of the pants out of the sudsy water—with my hands. The water had been so hot I’d had to snatch one up quickly. Gingerly, I’d held the sopping-wet material in both hands and looked at Ruth expectantly. She’d impatiently taken the pants from me and squeezed the excess water from the material with her own strong hands. I’d watched in horror as she’d worked with the pants until they were still dripping wet, but not as much.
Then she’d shown me how to feed the pants through the antique-looking ringer that was above the washer. After I’d asked, she’d informed me that the washer was actually only about twenty years old—a specially built one that Mr. Hershberger had put together for her.
Mr. Hershberger hadn’t worked all the kinks out of his invention in all those years, and the ringer, which should have sucked
the pants in and spit them out in no time at all, decided to eat them instead.
That’s what it felt like, anyway, as I’d tugged on the legs, trying to free them from the clamp. With Ruth’s help I’d managed to get the pants, but not without a torn crotch. My foster mom had explained to me that it was usual for such things to happen and that I’d have the opportunity to do some mending. Up until that moment in my life, I had never really known what the term mending meant. Now, I knew.
After the clothes had gone through the ringer, they then had to go into the tub with the fabric softener and then into the rinse water—all by hand. Not only had my fingers been dried out, but my muscles were still aching from the exertion of manually squishing the water from the clothes.
In all, we had done ten loads, an “easy day” I was told, but it still had taken over two hours to complete. My dress had been soaked through by the time the last pair of socks was hanging on the line.
Although Ruth had seemed impatient with me when I’d balked at putting my hands in the wash water after she’d added the bleach, she’d praised me in the end for my hard work. She’d also informed me that I’d be in charge of the laundry from then on. I couldn’t help but slouch down on the seat in defeat at the thought of doing it all again on Monday.
Ruth pulled my mind back into the buggy when she asked, “Rose, how long did you tell me it usually took you to do a load of laundry?”
Funny question, considering where my thoughts had been.
“Ah, a few minutes of actual work time. You know, I didn’t have to stand around and wait on the washer and dryer while they did their thing. I was free to go do other stuff....”
I trailed off, not wanting to sound as if I was bragging. But, really, in hindsight I now felt pretty dumb complaining to Dad when he’d ask me to do the chore at home.
“Can you imagine that, James? I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I had that much extra time on my hands,” Ruth spoke with a laughing bark at the end.
Belonging Page 3
