“Micah’s going to take us.”
“If he can borrow the buggy.”
“Well, of course he can.” She reached out and put a hand on both girls, ushering them into the house. “Come in. Come in. Susannah, it’s been too long since you stopped by.”
Soon they were settled around the kitchen table, and Micah had explained why he wanted to use the buggy. “But only if you don’t need it.”
Mammi smiled at the girls, then turned her attention to Micah. “I had planned to go and visit Miriam Hochstettler, who’s had a flare-up of her rheumatoid arthritis.”
“We can go another day.”
“Nonsense. You go on out and tell your daddi that you need the buggy. I can visit Miriam tomorrow.”
“But—”
“Nein. I insist. These two girls look like they’ve been working hard all day. They’ve earned a treat.”
Susannah couldn’t help laughing. “Sharon certainly does look as if she’s been working hard. There’s more dirt on her apron than in the pots of flowers she was planting.”
“Nothing that won’t wash out,” Abigail assured her.
“And I’ve been writing my letters,” Shiloh chimed in.
“Aren’t you a smart girl.”
“We have to go to school next year.” Sharon’s voice dropped an octave and she ducked her head. “Whether we want to or not.”
Which earned a laugh all around.
Micah moved to the back door to go and bring the buggy around. As an afterthought, he turned back to Sharon and Shiloh. “Do you girls want to help me?”
He started laughing as they dashed out the back door ahead of him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Susannah and Abigail caught up on what was happening on both farms—which wasn’t much.
Glancing at the kitchen clock, Susannah said, “I suppose I should go on out. I don’t want to keep Micah waiting.”
“Or the girls. They seemed quite excited.”
Susannah walked with Abigail out to the front porch, where they sat and waited for Micah to bring the buggy around.
“I’ve been meaning to speak to you regarding Micah. We appreciate your befriending him.”
“Micah’s an easy person to like.”
“That’s what we’re a little worried about.”
“What I mean is that he’s a hard worker and he has a gut attitude. Even my dat says so.”
“I agree with both of those points, but you and I both know that Micah hasn’t made up his mind on some very important life choices.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Abigail set her rocker in motion. “Oh, I pray every day that all of my family will stay in the faith, but not all do. That’s a truth to be reckoned with.”
Susannah started to protest, but Abigail raised a hand to stop anything she might have said. “You’re young yet, so it’s hard for you to imagine.”
“I do have freinden who have joined the Mennonite church.”
“And it’s not my place to say whether that is right or wrong. Gotte directs each path. However, if what I know about you and your family is correct—and we’ve lived next door to each other all of your life—then you have no plans to leave our church or our community.”
“Nein. Of course not. Well, I’ve always thought of myself as Plain, and I suppose I will stay in Goshen. Where else would I go?”
“My point is Micah may not stay in our faith.”
“He told you that?”
“His actions told me that, and you would arrive at the same conclusion if you’d get the stars out of your eyes.”
Susannah sifted through her memories of time spent with Micah, searching for a way to defend herself. She finally settled for “I do not have stars in my eyes.”
“Looks that way from here, and normally I would be thrilled at the thought of having you as a part of the family.”
Susannah jumped to her feet at the word family. Fortunately, Micah pulled the buggy up in front of the porch at that moment.
“I have to go.”
“Just remember what I said, Susannah, and guard your heart.”
Those words bounced round and round her mind as she climbed into the buggy, made sure the girls were sitting back properly, and listened to Micah discuss a horse he had shoed that morning. Only she wasn’t really hearing him.
She was thinking about Abigail Fisher warning her to guard her heart.
* * *
The day was warm, and Micah needed to charge his phone, so they ate their treats inside. Susannah and Micah sat on one side of the booth, Sharon and Shiloh sat on the other.
It took a few minutes for his cell phone to come to life. When it did, Micah started punching buttons. Sharon and Shiloh seemed not to notice. They were busy licking at the ice cream cones while at the same time coloring the place mats that the girl working the front counter had given them. Susannah glanced around the restaurant. It was plenty full for three in the afternoon.
One couple sat in a booth across from them. Their young child in a highchair was leaning forward to touch the screen of some small tablet. Across the restaurant another toddler, surely not yet walking, was crying and reaching for his mamm’s phone. Even the employee who was supposed to be bussing tables had pulled out his phone and was staring at it, the cluttered table in front of him temporarily forgotten.
She hadn’t really paid attention to how much Englischers used their electronic devices. What were they looking at? What could be so fascinating? She glanced again at her schweschdern. They were adorable, their heads practically touching as they worked on a puzzle on the color sheet. Both were wearing white kapps and blue dresses with blue aprons, and for a moment Susannah realized how different they must look to Englischers.
She knew it wasn’t her place to say who was right or wrong. Her dat had often reminded her not to judge lest ye be judged. She thought she knew what was right for her, but did that mean that other ways were wrong?
Why did there have to be a right or wrong anyway?
Some people chose to be farmers, some woodworkers. Some people were Englisch and others were Amish. What mattered was how they treated one another and how they lived their lives. She glanced at Micah and once again heard Abigail’s words. Guard your heart. Was she falling in love with Micah Fisher? And even if she was, who was to say that it would end badly?
It probably would end badly.
He was definitely moving back to Maine as soon as possible.
She couldn’t imagine living so far from her family, even if he did care about her in that way, which was by no means certain.
Micah turned off his phone and focused on his sundae.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Did you figure it out?”
“Oh, ya. I figured it out.”
“And?”
He looked at her and smiled as he shoveled in another rather large spoonful of ice cream. “I’m suddenly starved. I could eat two of these.”
“You’re suddenly avoiding the subject. Out with it.”
Micah wiped his mouth with a napkin and cornered himself in the booth so that he could look directly at her. “I took the selfie and posted it to Snapchat the day of the barn raising. As I told you, I haven’t even used the phone since.”
“So how did it get to the paper?”
“A friend of mine—an Englischer—managed to capture the photograph and then he sent it into the paper, pretending to be me.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I might have mentioned that I’m running a little low on money.”
“My dat is paying you.”
“Ya, and I give all of that money to my daddi as I should, since he’s feeding me and providing me a place to stay. But that doesn’t leave anything for...” He glanced
at the girls and cleared his throat, then leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Doesn’t leave anything for dating.”
Susannah felt her cheeks flame red. She would have stopped it if she could, but she’d always blushed when she was embarrassed. Micah was looking at her as if she was the most important thing in the world, and he definitely noticed her sudden fascination with her ice cream. Instead of saying anything, he squeezed her hand and went back to eating.
He didn’t ask her out.
And he certainly didn’t clarify what he’d meant.
She had no idea if she was relieved or disappointed.
* * *
As they were loading the girls back into his buggy, Micah noticed a car pull up in front of the Dairy Queen and drop off an older woman who toddled toward the door. Micah hustled over to the door, opened it wide for her and spoke to the woman.
When he jogged back to the buggy and climbed in, Susannah said, “What was that about?”
“An idea.”
“What kind of idea?”
“The gut kind, of course.”
“We want to play I Spy,” Sharon said, leaning forward over the seat.
“Best sit back,” Susannah said.
“Can we play?”
“I spy with my little eye...” Shiloh was practically bouncing on the seat.
The sugary treat must have given both girls an added burst of energy.
Sharon’s voice went up an octave. “I wanna go first.”
“But I already spied.”
“Did not.”
“Did, too. I spied that cat over there.” She pointed with her finger to a ginger cat sitting on a picnic table.
“Okay, I know what you spied—a cat. Now it’s my turn. I spy...”
Micah figured it was best to play along, so they spent the ride home spying another horse and buggy, a red car, two boys riding bikes and even a woman pushing a child on a swing. It wasn’t an easy game to play in the buggy, as the thing the person spied was often left behind. When the girls became frustrated, he changed the game to fifty questions, which went much more smoothly.
By the time they reached Susannah’s place, he understood how the girls managed to wear her out. He’d barely pulled the buggy to a stop when both Sharon and Shiloh tumbled out. They clamored up the porch steps, rushing to show their mamm the paper place mats they had colored.
“Those two are a handful.”
“I told you so.”
“They’re cute, though.”
“You don’t mind that I had to bring them along?”
“Why would I mind?”
Susannah shrugged, and he wondered if she was thinking what he was thinking. But if he asked, she’d probably just deny it. Susannah was traditional, and she wouldn’t admit to wanting to kiss him or even wanting to be alone with him—not that she’d ever lie, but she wouldn’t want to be forward.
As if to confirm his thoughts, she blushed prettily and then glanced away. “I should go fetch the clothes off the line.”
“I’ll help.”
Micah set the brake on the buggy and tethered the horse to the hitching post Thomas has fashioned in front of the house. Then he followed Susannah to the backyard, thinking about the girls he had dated before, the girls back home. They had been quite different from Susannah. They’d been flirty and immature. He could see that now. They’d covered their insecurities up with bold words and Englisch clothes, but they hadn’t shared their dreams or fears or hopes for the future.
They’d tried to prove to him they were different, that they were the one. The pressure to choose and settle down with one girl had begun when he’d turned twenty-one. His parents didn’t understand what he was waiting for. Honestly, he didn’t know, either. He’d always felt different from everyone else.
Now he wasn’t so sure about that.
Underneath, wasn’t everyone the same? Everyone wanted to be liked, to be respected and to have their opinions count.
But it was more than that.
Everyone wanted to connect in some authentic way. Maybe that was what he’d been looking for on social media. He wasn’t certain. He only knew that he wasn’t finding satisfaction there, but when he was with Susannah, that itch felt as if it was being satisfied. Just watching her fold clothes brought a goofy smile to his face, and he was powerless to stop it. He was confused about his feelings when he was around her, but he was also content for the first time in his life.
How could he feel both things at the same time?
Susannah laughed when she saw the way he was folding the towels.
“Do not tell me I’m doing this wrong.”
“Okay.”
He looked at the neat stack she’d placed in her basket, then at the towel he’d folded into a football shape. “I’m doing this wrong. Show me.”
Instead of pointing out he most certainly did not know the proper way to fold clothes, she walked over to where he was standing.
“Hold the towel up like this.”
He picked up a towel and mirrored what she was doing.
“Now fold it like this.”
He thought he did what she did, but looking down, he must have twisted it somehow.
Susannah started laughing—a sound he dearly loved to hear. “This is impossible,” he growled.
“Of course it’s not. All you need is practice.”
“Uh-huh.”
She quickly folded the last of the towels, and they carried the two baskets of fresh laundry to the back porch.
“Are you going to tell me what your gut idea was? The one you had when you held the door open for the Englisch woman?”
“Hmm...I’d rather wait and see if it pans out.”
“So, you’re not going to tell me.”
“I will say this...” He stepped closer, glanced at the windows to be sure no one was watching and then dipped his head and kissed her softly on the lips. Why did she taste like strawberries? He didn’t ask about that. Instead he said, “If it works out, I’ll have the money to take you to dinner.”
“Will you, now?”
He wanted to kiss her again, but Sharon and Shiloh sprinted out the back door, squealing and running to the swings that had been set up under the branches of a large maple tree.
Susannah stepped toward the porch. “I should probably help with dinner.”
“And I need to go and talk to my grandparents about that newspaper thing.”
“I suppose it would be best if they hear about it from you before a neighbor takes them a copy.”
“And I’ll talk to your dat tomorrow when I come over.”
Which he realized was a change in how he did things. Usually he avoided such conversations. But what was the point in that? Best to stay ahead of trouble if that was even possible, though in this case it might already be too late for that.
* * *
Micah knew the minute he stepped into the house that he was indeed too late in beating the bad news home. A copy of the Goshen News sat on the kitchen table, where supper should have been. His daddi and mammi were sitting at the table, obviously waiting for him.
“I was coming home to talk to you about that.” He slid into a seat at the table.
When his daddi finally looked up, Micah’s heart sank. He saw an entire world of emotions in the set of his mouth, the weariness of his eyes and the frown lines that seemed permanently etched on his forehead.
Mammi sat with her hands cradling a cup of coffee. Supper was on the stove, but apparently no one was expecting to eat anytime soon.
His daddi sighed heavily, as if he were carrying the weight of the world and needed to set it down. “We’re disappointed, Micah.”
“But I can explain.”
“How can you explain that?” His voice remained a low growl.
Micah could have ha
ndled a raised voice. Hadn’t he just told Susannah about how his parents would holler at each other? But always, always they would make up before darkness fell on the day. No, what his daddi’s voice told him was that he’d already made up his mind, already decided on his judgment and there would be no arguing.
Still, he had to try.
“I did take the picture.”
“With the Englisch phone.”
“I had never been to a barn raising with so many people, and I wanted to show my schweschdern.”
“We make quite an effort to keep the Englisch photographers at bay, only to have you splash our doings on the front page of the local paper.” Daddi grabbed the paper from the table and shook it at Micah. “I don’t know what you were thinking, but I do know that I warned you.”
“But I didn’t—”
“We are to remain separate, Micah. Do you not understand what that means?”
“I did not send that picture in to the paper.”
“Now you’re denying taking it?”
“Nein. I took it, but someone else sent it in.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It was a friend of mine.”
“An Englisch friend, no doubt.”
“He thought he was helping me. He thought I could use the money, but he didn’t ask me first. I had no idea he would do such a thing.”
“You should have considered that possibility before you took the photograph.” Daddi dropped the paper and slapped the flat of his palm against the table. “If you hadn’t taken it to begin with, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”
“What is so wrong with people seeing that we help one another?” Micah knew his temper was winning out over his common sense, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t sit there and not defend himself.
“Go and get the phone.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Go and get the phone.”
Micah didn’t have to go and get the phone, since it was still in his pocket from having gone to town. He handed it to his daddi, thinking that perhaps he was going to keep it awhile or hand it over to the bishop or mail it back home to his parents. He never once thought that the man would drop it on the floor, stand and crush it beneath his foot.
An Unlikely Amish Match Page 10
