The Protective One

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  She straddled two worlds, the English one and the Amish one, fitting into neither completely. Most of her Mennonite girlfriends relished the freedom.

  She, on the other hand, felt like she was always in danger of toppling down one side or the other. When was she ever going to become more confident and satisfied with her decisions?

  Maybe when she became more confident and satisfied with herself.

  Tired of trying to pedal up the hill, she hopped off and walked her bicycle up the incline. Pulling it up the hill wasn’t especially difficult, but guiding the bike was certainly harder than simply walking—especially on a warm summer morning. Glaring at the bike, she contemplated leaving it on someone’s driveway until she got off work.

  “E.A., what did that bicycle ever do to you?”

  Startled, she turned to see Will Kurtz loping toward her, an amused expression on his face.

  Boy, she was pleased to see him. Will could always make any day better. “What are you talking about?”

  His long legs reached her easily. “Even from fifty yards away, I noticed you glaring at that bicycle like it had done something terrible to ya.”

  Smiling up at him, she said, “I guess I was glaring at it. I hate riding up this hill.”

  “It is a pretty steep hill. That is for sure.”

  Actually, it wasn’t all that steep, but she knew Will would never say that. He always tried to make people feel better, not worse. “I was more upset with myself than anything,” she said. “It’s hot out. I should have known better than to ride it to Sew and Tell.”

  He held out a hand. “You want me to guide it up the hill for ya?”

  That was the thing. He absolutely would do that for her. That was his way. “Danke, but I’m okay. We could walk together, though, if you wanted.”

  Will smiled easily. “I want.”

  And just like that, she felt her body relax. That was Will in a nutshell, she realized. He was just so very nice.

  She was blessed to have him in her life.

  “Thanks again,” she said.

  Some of the humor in his eyes faded to concern. “Hey, are you all right?”

  “Oh, sure.” With anyone else, she would have dropped it there, but he was easy to talk to. And, maybe he would offer her some advice, too. “I mean, I think I am.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I broke up with David.”

  “Ah.” It was almost comical, the way Will was struggling to keep a straight face. “What happened? I mean, would you like to talk about it?”

  She needed to. “It all started when we were sitting on my front porch on Saturday night.”

  His lips twitched. “For his allotted thirty minutes?”

  Ugh. Had everyone been snickering about it all this time? “Jah. And no, I have no idea why he decided on half-hour visits in the first place.”

  His eyes sparkled. “Hmm.”

  “You aren’t helping, Will.”

  “I’m sorry. Forgive me. Continue,” he said, waving a hand in the air.

  Since his other hand was still guiding her bike up the hill, she didn’t chastise him. “Anyway, there we were, sitting on my porch swing like always, when I pointed out how pretty the fireflies were.”

  “Okay …”

  “Then I mentioned something about making wishes, but he didn’t get what I was talking about at all.” She exhaled. “Somehow, all that turned into some weird conversation about people being selfish.”

  Will’s dark eyebrows rose. “That must have been quite a conversation.”

  Oh, yes, it was. Remembering just how hurt she’d felt, she exclaimed, “Will, that wasn’t even the worst part!”

  “No?”

  “Somehow we started talking about Andy. He told me that Andy’s death was a selfish act. That he must not have cared about me. About any of us.”

  Will slowed to a stop, putting out his other hand to steady the bicycle. “He started talking badly about Andy?” When she nodded, his eyebrows pulled together. “E.A., how did you respond?”

  “How do you think? I told David that Andy wasn’t selfish at all. That he was a good friend.” Remembering David’s smug expression and how impassioned she’d been, her voice thickened with emotion. “Actually, I told him that Andy had been a great friend, and that he shouldn’t be saying a critical word.”

  “Gut. Good for you.”

  He looked so impressed, she admitted, “I might not have been that eloquent, but it was along those lines.”

  “Ah.”

  “Will, you feel the same way about Andy, too, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. All of us feel that way, E.A.” His voice softened. “I think you said all the right things.”

  “Danke.” Taking a deep breath, she added, “I ended up breaking up with him right then and there.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, jah. There was no way I could ever marry someone who didn’t feel at least a little more compassionate about Andy.” Or, at the very least, more empathetic about her feelings.

  “I’m proud of you, Elizabeth Anne,” he murmured. “That couldn’t have been easy.”

  It hadn’t been.

  But now, after speaking with him? She suddenly felt better. It was like she’d needed Will’s reassurance but hadn’t even realized it. “You know what? I’m really glad we ran into each other. I’ve been keeping that whole episode to myself, and it’s been eating my insides like a bad meal. You’ve helped a lot.”

  He looked pleased. “Believe it or not, I think I needed this conversation almost as much as you did.”

  “Why?”

  After a brief hesitation, he said, “I don’t know what’s going on with me, but lately I’ve been feeling a little unsettled.” Looking straight ahead, he continued, “I don’t know if it’s all our friends getting married or the fact that I’m in my mid-twenties and I don’t feel like I thought I would.”

  “Let me guess—you thought you’d have everything figured out by now?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I feel the same way, Will. And you know me—I like to have everything figured out.”

  “At least you’ve taken care of the David issue.”

  She chuckled.

  “Sorry, but I never liked him. He was always far too full of himself.”

  “You’re right. He was.” Sobering, she added, “I think I stayed with him for so long to make my parents proud. And that’s part of the problem! Why do I still feel the need to make them proud at twenty-four years of age?”

  “Because you love them. I do the same.”

  “You do that, too? Really?”

  He nodded. “I’ve been feeling stuck in a rut more and more lately, like maybe I should be doing more with my life.” He opened his mouth, looking prepared to say something else, then shook his head. “Sorry. I hate sounding like I have anything to complain about. I’m blessed.”

  Elizabeth Anne had heard so many people say that phrase, it felt rather trite. But it didn’t sound that way coming from him because she knew he truly meant it.

  That’s the kind of man he is, she mused to herself as they reached the top of the hill. As always, so considerate. Because that was who he was. Even when he was just a boy, he’d been that way. So caring. Why, in all the years she’d known him, she’d rarely heard him complain.

  She weighed her words carefully. “Will, even when we’re blessed, I don’t think the Lord minds when we decide to analyze our actions. Perhaps He’d say that taking stock was part of growing up.”

  He grinned. “Is that what I’ve been doing? I don’t know.”

  Maybe it was the vulnerability she spied in his eyes. Maybe it was the fact that she was feeling confused and a little alone, and needed a friend she could count on. Whatever the reason, she made a sudden decision. “I hope we spend more time together.”

  “You do?” He looked a little taken aback as they came to a stop in front of Sew and Tell. Almost like he was trying to come to
terms with her suddenly making a play for him. He knelt and put the bike stand down. “I mean, sure. We can do that.”

  She was now officially embarrassed. “I promise. I’m not making a pass at you. I just mean that it would be nice to see you more often,” she said quickly as he got to his feet again and faced her. “Especially since everyone else …”

  “Since everyone else has become a couple.” He finished, reading her mind once again.

  “Yes.”

  In typical Will fashion, he mulled it over for a few seconds then nodded. “Jah. I think that would be a good thing. I’ll stop by your haus soon.”

  Her spirits lifted. “You will? Oh, great!” When his eyes widened again, she tried to stop sounding so much like an awkward thirteen-year-old. “I mean—”

  “E.A., I’ve got to get to work, and your boss looks like she’s ready for you to come inside. Ain’t so?”

  Surprised, she turned around and saw that he was exactly right. Lark was standing at the large picture window at the front of the shop and staring at her. At them. When their eyes met, Lark pointedly looked at her watch.

  Ack! She was late.

  “I’ve gotta go. Bye, Will.”

  Grinning, he held up a hand. “Jah, see ya. Have a good day, E.A. And try not to worry about that David. You’re better off without him.”

  Smiling at him before she turned around, she realized that he was right—she did feel better off now.

  But it was funny, she wasn’t just thinking about David anymore. No, she was thinking about someone else. Someone with dark brown hair, matching eyes, and chiseled cheekbones who she’d known all her life.

  Someone who could still surprise her from time to time.

  FOUR

  “I’d intended for us to pick up Marie at school, run everyone home, and then crawl back in my window so my parents would be none the wiser.

  “But, like a lot of things, I suppose … nothing went according to plan.”

  “Yes, that’s how you do it,” E.A. coaxed as she helped her student guide the fabric under the sewing machine’s needle. “Slow and steady wins the race, jah?”

  “I’m doing it! Finally!” Marta Miner smiled up at her.

  “You are, indeed. Gut job!” Elizabeth Anne stepped back to watch Marta carefully press on the Singer’s pedal a little harder. With a satisfied whirl, the machine continued, making uniform stitches in an almost straight line. “Watch it, now. The fabric is beginning to slant …”

  “Oh!” Marta moved the material. “There we go.”

  Watching her student look almost giddy with triumph, E.A. grinned. Marta was a thirty-year-old married woman, but her expression was as gleeful as a nine-year-old’s. It was so cute.

  When Marta at last let her foot off the pedal, she leaned back with a sigh. “I can’t believe how nerve-wracking making a straight seam is, E.A. I think I almost broke out into a sweat.”

  E.A. laughed as she sat down in the folding metal chair next to her favorite sewing student. “As much as I would like to agree that sewing straight seams can be difficult, this Singer makes it fairly simple. You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

  “The machine is amazing, that’s true. But every time you take your eyes off me, my seam drifts to the right.”

  “We haven’t been doing lessons very long, Marta. Chin up, yes?”

  “I just want to do better.”

  “I know.” Marta had come in the shop for months before finally asking about private lessons. Then she dwelled on that idea for another month or two. Now they had ten or twelve lessons under their belts, and her skills were coming along nicely. However, Marta still worried about making mistakes.

  Carefully pressing her hand over Marta’s, E.A. smoothed the fabric under her hand. “I fear you might be making it harder than it has to be,” she said slowly. “Remember, all sewing mistakes can be fixed. That’s what a seam ripper is for.”

  “You’re right. I need to relax.” Her voice lowered, almost as if she were talking to herself. “I overthink things, I’m afraid.”

  E.A.’s heart went out to her student. At first glance, she looked like she didn’t have any worries in the world. But she now knew Marta well enough to realize that she was filled with insecurities. The woman was always doubting herself or quietly putting herself down.

  Worse, it seemed Marta’s husband didn’t allow her to do much. He wouldn’t allow her to drive and didn’t like her to do many things on her own. E.A. thought it was something of a miracle that Marta had even been able to sign up for a class at Sew and Tell in the first place.

  But last week, Marta had confided that her husband didn’t consider his wife’s once-a-week sewing lessons to be a threat. Also, since the shop was within walking distance of her house, Marta could go back and forth without a car. That was why she’d signed up to take sewing classes from E.A.

  Returning to the conversation at hand, E.A. said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Marta. Thinking through things isn’t a bad thing.”

  Marta smiled, but the happiness didn’t reach the shadows in her eyes. “You’re right. It came in handy in my former life.”

  “What was that?”

  “I was a research assistant for an author of historical novels.”

  Elizabeth Anne was surprised. Marta was so withdrawn she hadn’t thought she did anything outside the home. “That sounds exciting. Did you enjoy it?”

  “Oh, yes. I used to spend hours combing through reference books and taking notes. I did research on all sorts of subjects.” Her voice warmed. “He was a great author but not great at reading for details. He was a fan of bullet points.”

  “I bet he really appreciated your help.”

  She chuckled. “He appreciated it when people gave him compliments about his thorough research. Seriously, I didn’t mind, though. Like I said, I enjoyed it.”

  This was the most E.A. had heard Marta talk about anything. “What are some things you used to research?”

  “Oh, boy. All sorts of things,” she mused. Looking amused again, she said, “Once, my author’s main character worked on restoring paintings. Next thing I knew, I was researching all the Dutch masters and passing on notes about Rembrandt, Hals, and Vermeer.”

  E.A. loved how Marta’s expression had perked up. “My goodness. It sounds mighty interesting. You know what? I never thought about how an author gets all the information for all of his books.”

  Marta shrugged. “I promise, I didn’t do all the work, just helped make things easier. It was a good job.”

  “To be sure.”

  Her voice lowered. “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t quit.”

  “Why did you?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  “My husband didn’t like me working so much.” Her voice quivered a bit. “It is probably good I stopped, anyway. It took a lot of time away from the house and everything I need to do for Alan.”

  “Ah.” Realizing that Marta was looking embarrassed, E.A. smiled at her warmly. “Thank you for telling me about your job. I liked learning about it.”

  “It was fun to talk about, if you want to know the truth.” She winced. “Sometimes I forget that I used to be so different.”

  That statement sounded very telling. “My mother likes to say that Got helps us be the person we need to be at the right time,” E.A. murmured.

  “Do you think that’s right?”

  “I think I want it to be.” Thinking about David and Will and how different their group of Eight was, now that Andy had gone to Heaven, E.A. said, “To be honest, I’ve been thinking about my life, too.”

  Marta turned to face her. “Oh?”

  “Yes. I’ve recently made some changes. I’ve been thinking that maybe I need to make a couple more.”

  “Change is hard.”

  “Big changes are. But maybe everything doesn’t need to be a major change. There can be little ones.”

  “I like that way of thinking about it.” Looking like she was divulging a big secr
et, Marta lowered her voice. “As a matter of fact, I … well, I’ve been thinking of making some big and small changes in my life, too.”

  “I guess it’s good we found each other, then. We can cheer each other on.”

  “I hope so.” Holding up her lopsided seam, Marta frowned. “Maybe one day I’ll even be able to make a pillowcase that is usable.”

  “One step at a time, jah?” E.A. said gently. “And for the record, this one almost is.”

  Marta grinned. “You’re right. If I happened to have a pillow that was bigger on one side than the other, this case might work perfectly.” She stood up and started putting all her supplies in her little sewing kit. “You are the best teacher, E.A. Thank you for today.”

  “You’re welcome. I enjoy our classes.”

  “Me, too.” Looking warily at the glass door, Marta sighed. “Now, I had best be on my way. I was going to stop at the pharmacy on my way home. If I don’t hurry, I’ll be late.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get home in no time,” E.A. soothed. Because, really, what else could she say? But inside, she was more than a little concerned. Marta was a mess of contradictions. She was a married Englischer but needed as much reassurance as the most sheltered Amish teen. She was obviously smart enough to research all sorts of things, but she fretted about a trip to the pharmacy.

  Picking up the small amount of fabric and the spool of thread she’d picked out, E.A. walked to the counter. “I’ll get you checked out in a jiffy so you can get on your way.”

  “Thanks, E.A. Wish me luck.”

  After running Marta’s credit card for her purchases and the payment for the class, she waved her out the door.

  She was still gazing out the window at her student’s retreating form when Lark popped her head out of her office. “Whew. Is she gone yet?”

  She looked up at her boss, who was so close to E.A.’s age yet so different in looks and temperament. Today Lark was wearing a light blue dress that fit her perfectly. It was one of many that she’d made recently. “Who?”