Beneath the Summer Sun

by Kelly Irvin

  She found herself taking that same quick look around at the other picnic tables spread across the grounds. She took the bag from him and settled onto the bench at the closest picnic table. “Did you get some?”

  “I prefer Doritos. Nacho flavored are my favorite.”

  The only person close enough to hear would be Laura, and she sat on an old blanket in the shade of a hickory tree, her hands in her lap, eyes closed. Her friend had stayed within arm’s reach since arriving with a group of Mary Katherine’s children and grandchildren in Nathan’s SUV. Freeman had settled at a picnic table nearby, his expression benign. Her brothers and the kinner had immediately scattered to the lake shores, fishing poles in hand. Blake remained by the lake, his head bent over his fishing pole, his cap turned so the bill was in the back. Giving his brother time alone with her?

  “Mind if I join you.”

  She inhaled and almost choked on her first bite of hot dog. She glanced around again. Freeman and Peter were talking, hands moving in animated agreement over who knew what. She couldn’t hear, which meant they couldn’t hear her. Would it be wrong to say yes? Would it be rude to say no? Nathan waited, his expression so like the one she saw on her children’s faces when they wanted a second piece of pie. “Jah. Yes. I mean, go ahead.”

  He settled onto the bench across from her and set down a plate laden with a hot dog, barbecue chips, Doritos, and half a dozen Oreos. She suppressed a smile. He had a child’s approach to food.

  He took a bite. Catsup oozed and dripped on his hand. He chuckled. “I’m a mess.”

  “The messier it is, the better it tastes.”

  “True.” He dabbed at the catsup, which dripped onto his shirt. He shrugged and took a long swig of his grape pop. He ate and drank with a gusto that she liked. “So, I’m glad we have a few minutes to talk alone.”

  Her heart revved. They were not alone. Darren and his wife sat at the picnic table at the next pavilion with three children who were still eating. Silas, Luke, and her other brothers cleaned fish they planned to grill on the spot and eat. Her sisters-in-law had spread blankets on the grass and put babies down for naps. Her parents, thankfully, had not made the trip. Still, her community surrounded them. Her community, not his.

  It had seemed perfectly natural until he said that word alone. Everyone had been chatting all afternoon. About the wild turkeys and the raccoon they’d seen, the rabbits hippity-hopping across the grass, about books they liked and didn’t like. The men had told tall tales of fishing, and Nathan and Blake had matched the others story for story. Laura and Mary Katherine had nattered on about their sons’ love of fishing and hunting and all manly things.

  “How long is your brother staying?” The question was the first flung from a whirlwind of thoughts she couldn’t harness.

  “That’s definitely not what I want to talk about.” He grimaced and broke a Dorito in two places with his thumb. He moved the pieces to far regions on the plate. “He hasn’t said, but I don’t expect him to be here long. He came to . . . tell me something. He’s told me. He’ll go soon.”

  She waited, not sure where Nathan was going.

  “I think Freeman is beginning to see how well I would fit into this community.” He studied his plate. “That’s why he decided to have me come to church. So I could learn more. He wants me to spend more time with the people who would be my community. I need to understand how the faith is practiced on a regular basis.”

  “Converting is very hard. Most can’t do it.”

  “Most aren’t me and I’m Mennonite, not so different from you.”

  “I don’t know a lot about what Mennonites believe aside from the Meidung issue. I only know that they live their lives differently.” She picked her words with care, not wanting to hurt him or his enthusiasm for a worthy cause. Having him as part of their community might be a good thing. But it would force her to face issues she wasn’t sure she wanted to face. Not yet. “You may be working on a farm, you may wear suspenders, but you’re also driving a van and wearing jeans.”

  “I’m moving toward the goal, one step at a time.” He wiped at his mouth but missed the spot of catsup on his chin. “I gave up book sales and settled down. I’m learning a new trade. That’s a lot of progress in a month’s time. I’m moving as fast as I can.”

  “It’s not just how you live your faith. It’s the faith itself. The reason behind the way you live.”

  “I know.” He picked up the hot dog, then dropped it back on the plate. “I’m working on that part too. The fact is I would do anything for you.”

  His declaration came in a soft whisper, but his gaze didn’t waver.

  Jennie swallowed against a knot of emotion, not sure whether fear or delight would win out. She would not get caught in this web. Not again. Especially not with a man who had so far to go in his quest. “I appreciate—”

  “Mudder, Mudder!” Mark raced across the grass and stopped short of the table, dancing around on dirty, bare feet. His face was red with sunburn, exertion, and possibly embarrassment. “I split my pants.”

  “You what?”

  He whirled around and showed her his backside. Indeed, he had a big split in the seam. “I’m getting too big for my britches. And there aren’t any more in my room.”

  How was that possible? She and the girls had done all the laundry on laundry day. She couldn’t keep up with the sewing. She needed more material, which meant more money. “We’ll have to see if Micah’s hand-me-downs fit you. In the meantime, it’s just us. We don’t care if you have a hole in your pants.”

  “Mudder!” His hands went to his behind. “The girls will see.”

  “Sit down. I’ll make s’mores in a minute. Do you want to go home or do you want to eat s’mores?”

  “S’mores.” He backed away as if they hadn’t already seen the damage. “They’ll make me even fatter. All the seams will explode.”

  “You’re not fat.” Nathan tapped the box of graham crackers. “You’re a growing boy. You’ll burn off the calories in three minutes.”

  Mark dashed off again, chortling and shouting to the others about the s’mores.

  “You didn’t get a chance to answer me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Can’t answer me or can’t be with me?”

  “We can’t talk about this.”

  “Okay. For now. Until I totally earn the right.” Nathan ducked his head as he swirled a chip in the catsup. “But I’m not giving up. Let’s talk about the kids. I know it’s hard to keep up with their needs. Is there some way I can help?”

  He didn’t know their ways. Leo did. Leo could help. She glanced at Nathan’s hands. He had blisters and the beginnings of calluses. The beginnings of a working man’s hands. But still gentle. “The girls and I will sew more pants. I’ll be able to afford the material when I sell more items on consignment at the store.”

  Until Lazarus took it away from them and this source of income dried up.

  “Have you been able to put the money together for the new buggy?”

  Jennie had wanted one afternoon in which she didn’t have to think of these things. These problems didn’t disappear because a person chose to run and hide. “I’m working on it. Some donations are coming in from people who want to help everyone who had damage. It’s the Plain way.”

  “I want to help you.” He dropped his dog on the plate, looked around, then slid his hand across the table until his fingers touched the tips of hers. His were warm and damp. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

  Memories rushed at Jennie. She had no place to go, no way to escape.

  Atlee’s fingers bit into her shoulder. Tight, tight. They hurt. He leaned down until his bristly beard brushed against her check. His hot breath smelled of onions. “It’s time to go.”

  She glanced at her mother, humming an old hymn as she pulled a pan of chicken-and-rice casserole from the oven. “But we haven’t had supper.”

  “Don’t question me.”

 
Mudder turned and smiled. “Supper’s almost ready, Atlee. Would you like a glass of tea while we put it on the table?”

  “We’re going.”

  Her smile faded as she glanced from Atlee to Jennie and back. “I made lemon bars.”

  “Kinner who can’t behave go to bed without supper.”

  “Surely they don’t deserve—”

  “Get up.” He grabbed Jennie’s hand and jerked her up from the table. “Neither do wives who don’t obey.”

  Abject humiliation turned her muscles to water. She stumbled. His grip around her hand crushed tiny bones. She cried out. Her free hand covered her mouth. She swallowed the pain and strove to keep up with his stride.

  “Jennie?”

  She looked back. Her mother stood motionless, a pot holder forgotten in her hand. A terrible sadness mingled with pity on her wrinkled face. Shame billowed through Jennie. “It’s fine, Mudder, I’m fine. I’ll be here for the canning frolic.”

  It would never be fine, but Mudder didn’t need to know the depths of her shame.

  Jennie jerked her hand back and half stood. “Nee. Nee.”

  Nathan’s hands retreated to his lap. His face turned a deep red. “Wait, what’s the matter. You just went white as a sheet? What did I say?”

  If only the earth would open and swallow her up. Her heart pounded inside her chest. She couldn’t breathe. Atlee’s face reappeared, full of revulsion. Revulsion for her. She slipped from the table. “We should go.”

  “No, no.” Nathan’s tone implored, but he kept his voice down. “Please don’t run.”

  She gripped the edge of the table and forced a smile. Don’t make a scene. She plumbed the depths for a soft voice, a calm expression. “I’m not running from anyone.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He slipped from his seat and busied himself cleaning the mustard bottle with a napkin. “Are you only afraid of me or of all men? How did you get this way? What did your husband do to you?”

  He could never know what a poor wife she’d been to deserve such treatment from a husband who could not be satisfied, no matter what she did. The children had gone to bed without supper that night and so had she. She never knew—and neither did they—what they’d done to deserve that punishment. “Nothing. Nothing.”

  “Sit down. I swear I’ll leave the subject alone.”

  “Plain men don’t swear.” Her breathing slowed. The past receded. Atlee was dead and buried in the ground. Guilt pulsed through Jennie. Could God ever forgive her for being relieved? She could make supper with no fear that it wouldn’t please. She could go to bed at night with no fear he would be there, shirt off, face expectant, when she entered the bedroom. Had God given her this sweet release? Could a fraa ask for such a thing? Legs weak, she eased back on the bench. “We shouldn’t be having these conversations. They’re for special friends.”

  “I want to be your special friend.”

  “That’s not possible.” The way he said it was so sweet, so loving, the ache where her broken heart resided eased a little. That a man like Nathan might see something in her after all these years, it was a healing balm. If only he were in a position to offer such a thing to a woman like her. “Even if it were, it would be wrong to try to become Plain in order to court me.”

  “I know that. There’s a host of other reasons.”

  “Are any of them about faith?”

  “Yes. I’m looking for a faith that fits me. My Mennonite life doesn’t.”

  What did that mean? A faith that fit. Could he shed one that was like a coat too tight through the shoulders for another? Could anyone? There had to be more to it. “You need to do what you need to do, with no regard for feelings you may have for me.”

  The idea that he might have feelings for her seemed so farfetched as to be a silly tale, like the ones Elizabeth and Cynthia made up at night to entertain each other before bed.

  “You could never have feelings for a man like me?”

  “I’m not good fraa material.”

  His forehead furrowed. “You look good from where I sit.”

  He couldn’t begin to know her shortcomings. Atlee had found them out quickly enough. “You don’t know me.”

  “I want to get to know you. Give me time to do that.”

  “It won’t change anything.” She grasped for a way to end this conversation that went around and around and never arrived at its destination. “You started a new occupation. You have family visiting. You have your time with Freeman. Focus on those things. Leave me out of it. Please.”

  Nathan sniffed and pushed chips around on the plate. “My brother’s here because he wants me to go back East with him to see my family.”

  To his true family. Another reason Nathan had no business talking to her as if he planned a future in Jamesport. His words could not be trusted. “You should do that.”

  He fiddled with the loop on his pop can. “You’re here.”

  Fear made her stomach rock. Hot dog and chips rebelled as if they would no longer stay in their proper place. She bit her tongue and tasted salty blood. “That is of no consideration for you. It can’t be.”

  “What are you so afraid of?” He leaned forward, his fingers splayed as if longing to touch her again. She scooted back. His hands withdrew. His gaze sought hers. She couldn’t hold it. He sighed. “What happened to you?”

  “I’ll make the s’mores. It’s getting late.” She stood again. “We’ll have dessert and get back. We have chores to do.”

  He threw his half-eaten hot dog in the trash can. “And pants to make.”

  “Exactly.”

  He picked up the bag of marshmallows and handed it to her. “Someday I hope you trust me enough to tell me what happened to you.”

  “I might say the same of you.”

  “Touché.” He shook his head, his eyes sad. “This wasn’t the way I wanted this to go.”

  “You can’t spring something like that on a Plain woman and expect her to be right there with you.”

  “You have no feelings for me at all?”

  She closed her eyes for a second, trying to see a distant speck in the future where she might be able to have the courage to try again. A faint figure far, far away beckoned to her. She couldn’t tell who it was and what he wanted. Leo’s face earlier in the day as he comforted Francis filled her mind’s eye. A good Plain man who wanted to take her for a buggy ride. A man with callused hands that worked hard, had strength, but then turned gentle. Suddenly, it seemed as if she had choices where before there had been none. Neither man could change her past. Could she somehow become a good wife pleasing to the husband either would be?

  Jennie fumbled through the dark corridors of her mind looking for that simple, sweet feeling of love for another, fresh and new. She couldn’t find it no matter how hard she tried. Atlee had turned the air around her black. It smelled of distrust and fear. “It’s not that simple.”

  “It never is.” Nathan stuck three fat marshmallows on a stick with sharp thrusts as if skewering them for bad behavior. “But I won’t give up.”

  The idea that he would pursue her, the least desirable of women, almost made her laugh—almost. “You need to focus on your faith first. Work your way through what it means to be Plain and whether you truly can do it. You can’t stick your toe in the water and expect someone to jump in with you.”

  “Smart and pretty.”

  Her cheeks burning, she turned to the fire pit. She blew the flames out on her marshmallows and slipped them on top of the graham cracker and chocolate bar lying on the paper plate waiting for the perfect middle. “I’m going to call the kinner.”

  “Don’t run away.”

  She wasn’t running. It would be undignified. She settled for a fast walk—as fast and as far away as possible.

  Women were a mystery. Nathan remembered to shut his mouth as he watched Jennie trudge from the pavilion. She looked as if she wanted to break into a run. Only innate dignity kept her from fleeing. The look of fear on her face
burned through him. The fear on her face when his fingers brushed against hers had been immediate and all encompassing. What did she fear? What had happened to her? He couldn’t begin to reach her if she wouldn’t tell him. When would he have another chance to speak to her again? Opportunities were few and far apart when he worked for her brother-in-law. He couldn’t simply show up at her house uninvited now that he had no books to sell. He slapped his marshmallow stick on the table and started after her.

  “Let her go. You’ve bent her ear enough.”

  He stopped. He’d forgotten about Laura’s presence. She’d looked so relaxed and peaceful napping in the shade of the old hickory tree with its sweeping boughs that dipped low to the ground. Not napping, apparently. She stood, the cracking of her knees loud in the sudden silence. She brushed leaves and twigs from her dress.

  “You were listening to our conversation?” His outrage made the words come out in a semi-stutter. What passed between Jennie and him had been meant for no other ears. “It was private.”

  “I was napping. At first.” She sniffed and shrugged. “Chalk it up to an old lady’s prerogative. Besides, Jennie is my friend.”

  “And mine also.”

  “Plain women don’t have single men as friends.” She stretched and yawned. More popping and cracking of joints. “Why do you think Mary Kay and I are here, if not as chaperones? Not to mention her brothers. She is a good Plain woman who needs good friends who know what it’s like to be a widow to help her navigate.”

  “How is a man to get to know a Plain woman then?”

  “A man like you doesn’t.” Laura’s tone was firm but kind. “You have to do things in the right order. Have patience. One step at a time. That is what a Plain man would do. Jennie gave you some good advice.”

  “You need to focus on your faith first. Work your way through what it means to be Plain and whether you truly can do it. You can’t stick your toe in the water and expect someone to jump ahead of you.”

  “I heard her.”

  “Did you? She’s been through a lot. Being a widow in a community built around husband and wife isn’t easy. Finding a way to fit isn’t easy. Don’t make it harder for her.” Laura meandered into the pavilion. She picked up the paper plate that held a s’more, a sudden smile appearing. “I love roasted marshmallows, don’t you?”