Listening to Love

by Beth Wiseman

  Now he’d done the one thing he never wanted to do. He’d hurt her. She’d told him she loved him, and he hadn’t said it back. That would have made things worse. But then he kissed her and hurt her anyway.

  Mary stood, tears in her eyes. “I love you, Lucas. And I love Natalie too. But I saw the signs, the way you two look at each other.” She dabbed at her eyes, which ripped even more at Lucas’s heart. “But I think I know you well enough to know you will never leave our lifestyle. Am I right?”

  Lucas glanced at Levi, then looked back at Mary. “I guess everyone saw it but me. I didn’t want to see it.”

  Mary twirled the string of her prayer covering as she paced. “Things never should have gotten this far.”

  “I know.” Lucas rubbed his temples, disappointed in himself.

  Mary wiped away another tear. “Natalie is like mei schweschder. She didn’t represent a threat to Levi and me, to the way we live. I worried when you first started spending time together, but I tried to convince myself that it was your business—and Natalie’s. But now everything is such a mess.”

  Lucas couldn’t agree more. He should have stopped seeing Natalie when his attraction to her began to grow. But when had that been? Maybe he’d known all along he was in love with her. But those same emotions had prevented him from letting her go.

  * * *

  Cecelia sat across from Moses at the small kitchen table after they finished eating her chicken casserole and Helen’s delicious homemade bread. “That’s the most I’ve eaten in a long time.” She laid her napkin across her plate. “I’ll have to diet tomorrow.”

  “You worry too much about the way you look.” Moses wiped his mouth before putting his napkin down.

  Cecelia’s world seemed to dictate protocol as to how a woman should look. How nice it would be not to have to apply makeup every day and perform facial masks weekly as if her life depended on it. What if she didn’t dye her hair and just let the gray come on out? And she could eat those truffles she loved nightly, instead of just binging on the days she thought about Tom.

  “I know the women in your world aren’t concerned with looks, but the rest of us are.” Cecelia put a hand on her belly. She could feel it swelling just sitting there.

  “Ya, I realize that. But you are a beautiful woman.” Grinning, he stood, lifted his plate, and walked around the table to get Cecelia’s. He stood looking down at her. “I’ll bet you’re just as beautiful without makeup.”

  Cecelia blushed, but she wasn’t sure whether to take the comment as a compliment or an insult. She’d hit her forties, and she once read an article that said less was more when it came to women getting older. Still, she hadn’t been able to shed her standard makeup routine, which included a lengthy application of the necessary cosmetics—foundation, powder, blush, eye shadow, eyeliner, and mascara.

  “Ha,” she said as she stood and walked with him to the kitchen sink. “You say that, but you’d feel differently if you saw me in my natural state.” She glanced around the kitchen for the dishwasher, then remembered where she was.

  Moses plugged the sink and turned the water on. After a few seconds, she ran her hand under it. “You have hot water.”

  The skin beside his eyes crinkled as he smiled, an expression that was growing on Cecelia. “Ya, I have a hot water heater in the basement. It uses propane, which is frowned upon in our district, but it was here when Marianne and I moved in, and we figured no one would see it down there.” He grinned as he added dishwashing soap to the warm water. “Nothing like running hot water and a hot bath to soothe the soul.”

  “Ah, so you’re a rule breaker.” Cecelia cut her eyes in his direction.

  “I can be.” He winked, and Cecelia just grinned.

  Moses didn’t have nice furniture. It wasn’t horrible, just broken in. The kitchen was a joke. She wasn’t sure how he functioned in here. But his bathroom was amazing. She thought about the oversized claw-foot tub again and pictured herself soaking in it with candles lit around the room, a glass of wine in her hand, and soft music playing.

  She picked up a kitchen towel from the counter. “You wash, and I’ll dry.”

  He rinsed the first plate and handed it to her, his arm brushing against hers. Cecelia couldn’t recall her and Tom ever doing dishes together. She and Natalie had always cleared the table and loaded everything into the dishwasher while Tom retreated to the living room.

  When they were done, Cecelia dried her hands on the towel and laid it back where she’d found it. “I should probably go. It’ll be dark soon.”

  Moses nodded to his right, at the lantern on the counter. “I have plenty of those. Stay.” Grinning, he twisted to face her. “Unless you don’t like driving at night.”

  “I’m not an old woman.” She thrust her hands to her hips. “I can still drive at night.”

  “Then stay,” he said softly. He didn’t wink this time, but his eyes stayed locked with hers in a way that caused her insides to tremble. Is he coming on to me? She reminded herself that he’d clearly told her during their lunch meeting that he needed a bookkeeper and not a wife. He wasn’t coming on to her. He’s just lonely, like I am.

  “I-I guess I could stay for a little while longer.” She felt like a schoolgirl on a first date. Again, she reminded herself that it wasn’t like that. She was getting to know her boss, who just happened to be nice looking, even with a beard that nearly reached his middle. She remembered when Tom had wanted to grow a beard, and she’d thrown a fit because she wasn’t a fan of facial hair. But it worked on Moses.

  They walked into the living room and Cecelia sat on the couch, then scooched over after Moses sat down right beside her.

  “Relax, Cecelia. I don’t bite.” He winked at her as his face turned into the now-familiar expression that caused her pulse to speed up.

  She stared at him for a few seconds. “You’re not like any other Amish man I’ve ever known.”

  He laughed. “I’m wondering how many Amish men you’ve really known. I think maybe you have preconceived ideas about us.”

  She raised her chin. “I’ll give you that. I haven’t spent much time with anyone Amish, male or female.”

  He twisted to face her. “Tell me about yourself.”

  Rolling her eyes, she said, “Not much to tell. I married Tom. We had Sean and Natalie. Then we got divorced.”

  “That’s not what I mean. Who is Cecelia?” He tilted his head to one side and fixed his gaze on her, inquisitiveness swimming around in his mysterious hazel eyes.

  It had been so long since anyone was interested in her, she had to think for a few minutes. “Um, well . . . here are the things most people know about me.” She tapped a finger to her chin, recalling happier times in her life, pre-divorce. “I love shoes, flowers, and watching old western movies.”

  Moses chuckled.

  “I know. Tom used to think it was funny too.” Cecelia smiled.

  “It’s just that you’re afraid of animals, especially horses. And I’m not sure you can watch a western that doesn’t have horses.” He raised a bushy dark eyebrow.

  “You’re right. But cowboys are usually heroes, or at least one of them is.” She thought about the way she’d called Moses a cowboy in her mind and even to Natalie. Then she grinned. “And exactly how many westerns have you seen since TV isn’t allowed in your world?”

  “A few, in my rumschpringe.”

  Cecelia nodded.

  “Now, tell me something else about you, something the general population doesn’t know.”

  “Hmm . . .” She shifted her weight, turning more in his direction as dusk settled in on them, dimming the amount of light streaming through the windows. He hadn’t lit the lantern on the coffee table yet. Cecelia would need to go soon. Not that I have anything to go home to. She lowered her eyes. “I guess no one knows the ways that I’m trying to change. Even my daughter seems to have planted me in a box in her mind where I’ll never grow. I’m just her needy, bitter mom who had a hard time wi
th the divorce, has financial woes, and is a miserable person to be around.” She lifted her eyes to his, expecting pity. She couldn’t read his expression, but pity didn’t seem to be part of it. “I don’t want to be that person. I want to be strong, independent, and have joy in my life.”

  He smiled. “I think your goals are admirable. It couldn’t have been easy to go through all that.”

  Finally. Someone gets it. “It was an ugly mess, but thank you for saying that about my goals. I have a long way to go. Bitterness has a way of attaching itself to a person, and it’s hard to shed. But I’m working on it.” She chewed on her bottom lip, hoping she wasn’t going to cross a line. “Your wife hasn’t been gone long. A few months, right?” He nodded. “You must miss her a lot.”

  “Every day.” He looked somewhere past Cecelia, a far-away look in his eyes. She wondered what was harder on the heart—a spouse who passed away or a spouse who cheated, lied, and left.

  “I’ll admit, I don’t know everything about the Amish, but I know large families are common. Why didn’t you and Marianne have children? And please don’t feel like you have to answer if I’m overstepping.”

  Moses cleared his throat and reached for a box of matches on the coffee table. He pulled the lantern closer and removed the globe. “It just never happened for us.”

  “I’m sorry.” Cecelia had a complicated pregnancy with Natalie. “I couldn’t get pregnant again after Natalie, so I’m especially grateful for her. And, despite the horrible things that happened during the divorce, there was a time when she and I were close. I want to find that again. Sean, Natalie’s older brother, is in the army, so I don’t get to see him much, but we talk on the phone or video chat about once a week. He was lucky enough to be out of the house when things turned bad for me and Tom.”

  They were both quiet as Moses lit a second lantern. Cecelia watched the flame flicker and dance, casting shadows across her boss’s face.

  He sat back, scratching his whiskered cheek, and Cecelia waited.

  “I’m not gut in the kitchen, but I can whip us up a pot of coffee if you’d like to stay a while longer. I’m enjoying getting to know mei new employee.”

  She thought about her empty house and the bottle of vodka she occasionally got into at night when she was lonely. This sounded better. “Coffee would be great.”

  She followed Moses into the kitchen, and he lit the lantern on the counter before filling a pot with water and placing it atop the stove. Then he relit the wood inside, which was still smoldering from earlier.

  Cecelia leaned against the counter as he took two cups from the cabinet, along with a container of coffee. The smell of the burning wood, the shadows cast from the lantern, the simple table and chairs, the old refrigerator—Cecelia felt like she was in one of the old westerns she loved.

  And Moses is my cowboy. It was a comical thought since she’d always assumed the Amish were so different and had never encouraged a friendship with any of them. She decided it was time to rethink her “preconceived ideas” about these people.

  Chapter 8

  Isaac snored, but that wasn’t why Helen couldn’t sleep at eleven o’clock at night. And this time, her worries weren’t about Lucas. Her son had actually come home earlier than usual from his Friday night supper at Levi and Mary’s house. Helen was sure Natalie had been there, but right now, the activity next door had her peering at her neighbor’s house.

  There was a good bit of land between their house and Moses’s, but from her bedroom window, Helen had a clear view of lanterns glowing downstairs—and upstairs—along with a car in the driveway. Cecelia’s car. Helen recognized the silver vehicle from her visit with the woman earlier. The full moon and a pair of binoculars, which she’d discovered in her husband’s nightstand drawer, aided her efforts.

  Helen froze when Isaac suddenly stopped snoring. She quickly lowered the binoculars and turned to face her husband as he sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” His expression wasn’t visible with only the light of the moon shining in, but his voice was throaty and hoarse.

  She walked to his nightstand, pulled open the drawer, and placed the binoculars back inside. “That woman is at Moses’s haus at this late hour.”

  “What woman?” She noticed an edge to her husband’s voice.

  “I’m sorry I woke you up, but Natalie’s mudder, Cecelia, is with Moses.” Helen walked around to her side of the bed, stepped out of her slippers, and crawled beneath the covers.

  Isaac fluffed his pillow and lay back down. “I thought I heard this morning that she was working for Moses.”

  “Until eleven o’clock at night? I doubt they are working.” She turned on her side to face Isaac as he lay on his back, his eyes already closing. “And there are lanterns lit downstairs and upstairs.”

  “Maybe her car wouldn’t start and she had to sleep on his couch.” Isaac spoke with his eyes shut. He’d be snoring in a minute.

  “If that was the case, she would have called her daughter or a friend to pick her up. That’s trouble going on over there, and I’m disappointed in Moses.” Helen huffed. “I don’t know why either one of them would get involved with an Amish man when it is obvious they disapprove of our way of life.”

  “You don’t know that, Helen.” Isaac sighed in the darkness.

  “Ach, well, I might not know Natalie’s thoughts about it, but her mudder came right out and said she didn’t approve of how we live. She has no business over there with Moses. She’s brewing up trouble. She and her daughter both.”

  Isaac began to snore. Helen stared at the ceiling, doubting sleep would come soon.

  * * *

  Natalie woke up Saturday morning, and before she even got out of bed, she could feel how swollen her eyes were from crying herself to sleep. She forced herself to relive the events of the previous day. She’d told Lucas she loved him, and he hadn’t said anything. He’d kissed her. She’d called her mother repeatedly until almost midnight with no answer. But what haunted her most was the way Lucas, Mary, and Levi watched when she left crying.

  Outside of her family, the three people she loved most in the world had formed a circle that excluded Natalie, at least for now. She’d thought Lucas, Levi, and Mary were her family, too, and that family stuck together no matter what. Then she remembered her parents and wondered if maybe she should have expected this. When things go badly, families fall apart.

  As the pain burrowed deeper inside, it was slowly turning to anger. Lucas initiated the kiss, and Natalie was a willing participant, but why did it feel like she was the only one being ostracized? It didn’t seem fair. Mary and Levi wouldn’t break the no phone rule, but Lucas could have called her. Or maybe she’d read their reactions and expressions incorrectly before she fled.

  She picked up her phone and realized she’d forgotten to plug it in last night, so the battery was nearly dead. But her mother had sent a text at midnight.

  Sorry I missed your calls. I got in late. Love, Mom

  Natalie reread the message and stared at the phone. Her mother never went anywhere late in the evenings, and she always answered the phone when her daughter called. Natalie sent her a text.

  Call me, please.

  She plugged in her phone to charge, set it on the nightstand, and fought the urge to stay in bed all day. Only a few seconds later, her phone rang, and it was her father.

  Her mother called a lot, but her dad rarely did. She didn’t feel like talking, but her father’s calls were usually about something semi-important, even if it was just that he had a new phone number or would be traveling for work.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey, Nat. You doing okay?”

  She hesitated for a couple seconds. “Um, yeah. Why?” She wasn’t about to discuss her love life, or lack thereof, with her father—the man who left her mother to run off with someone too young for him.

  “I was just checking on you.” He sounded like he was calling from another country.

 
; “I’m fine. Where are you? It sounds like you’re across the world, kinda fuzzy or something.”

  “Oh, sorry. Hold on.”

  Natalie waited.

  “Is this any better? Olivia’s still sleeping, so I was trying to talk softly in the utility room, but I’d thrown some towels in the dryer. I’m outside now.”

  “Yeah, I can hear you better.” Natalie yawned, waiting for her dad to get to the purpose of his call. He always had an agenda.

  “I-I just wanted to tell you that I miss you.”

  She was wide awake now as she sat up in bed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Can’t a father just call to tell his daughter he misses her?”

  “Well . . . I guess.” She stifled another yawn as she scratched her chin.

  “How’s your mom?”

  Natalie held out the phone, checking the number to make sure this was really her father. Last night’s oddities were carrying over into today. “She’s fine. You could call and ask her yourself.” Natalie rolled her eyes and suspected her father’s answer would be the usual, “I can’t. She just gets upset or yells at me.”

  “Actually, I did try to call her—twice last night and again this morning—but it went straight to voice mail, like maybe her phone was off or dead.”

  Natalie ran a hand through her tangled hair. “Dad, what’s wrong? You never talk to Mom, and you rarely call me.” Her pulse had picked up, and now she was worried.

  “That’s not true, Nat.”

  She waited for more, but an awkward silence fell between them.

  “Actually, I also wanted to tell you that I love you.” Her father spoke softly, and it almost sounded like there was a tremble in his voice. She couldn’t remember the last time her father called just to tell her he loved her. Those three little words were being flung all over the place lately.