by Amy Clipston
The thought caught her off guard, and she swallowed a gasp. Was she developing feelings for Drew? But she hadn’t known him very long. Was it even possible to develop feelings for someone she hardly knew?
When they arrived at the city park, he found a parking spot not far from their destination. Then they walked together into the park’s big open area. Cindy was aware of curious stares as they crossed the grassy venue. Brushing off sudden self-consciousness, she quickened her pace. Drew led her to a spot away from trees, and after spreading the quilt, they sat down.
“Would you like a drink now?” He opened the small cooler and pointed to bottles of water and cans of soda.
“I’ll take a bottle of water,” she said.
He handed her the bottle, and then she surveyed the crowd, taking in families gathered on quilts and young couples sitting beside each other on beach chairs. The early evening sky was beautiful with shades of orange and yellow as the sun began to set, and the air smelled like moist earth. She breathed in the sweet air and felt her shoulders relax.
Drew gave her a wide smile. “You look like you’re having fun already.”
“I am having fun.”
“Just you wait. It’s going to get better.” He nudged her shoulder with his.
She smiled at the familiarity in the gesture, and happiness bubbled inside of her.
They talked comfortably about everyday things until darkness shrouded the park.
“The fireworks are going to start soon,” Drew told her as he leaned in closer. His breath was warm on her cheek, sending shivers of awareness over her skin. “Are you ready for this?”
For a moment, she couldn’t respond. Was she ready for any of this? She wasn’t sure.
Suddenly, a tremendous boom thundered through the sky, followed by a shimmering explosion of reds, purples, and blues.
Cindy blew out a puff of air and grabbed Drew’s arm. The contact sent heat zinging up her arm. She released his arm and shifted away from him.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered.
“It’s okay.” He gave a little laugh. “Are you all right?”
His question was interrupted by more thundering booms and glorious colors erupting across the sky. Cindy stared up in wonder, her mouth slightly open. She’d never seen anything so beautiful.
“You like it?” His voice rumbled close to her ear, and his nearness stole her breath for a moment.
She nodded with emphasis. “I do.”
“Good.” He remained close to her, his arm and leg resting against hers.
When a boom shook the ground, she grabbed his hand, her fingers instinctively entwining with his.
“It’s okay,” he whispered in her ear.
More booms and blasts of color followed, and Cindy didn’t let go.
She closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the comfort of his touch. Why did being so close to him feel so right? And what would her father say if he saw her right now?
Cindy released his hand, but she didn’t shift away from him. Having Drew by her side brought a comfort she’d never known—one she already knew her family would never understand.
As the two of them sat together beneath the dark, sparkling sky, she quietly feared what the future held for the two of them, while at the same time she was eager to find out.
seven
“What did you think of the fireworks?” Drew asked Cindy as they sat in an ice-cream parlor later that evening.
“It was breathtaking.” Cindy dug her spoon into her butterscotch sundae. “It was fantastic. Thank you for taking me.”
“Thank you for going with me.” Drew scooped a spoonful of his chocolate sundae into his mouth. “I’m still surprised your father let you go with me.”
“Why would you say that?” She hoped her tone didn’t give away her concern.
“I’m not Amish.” He dug his spoon into the tall glass again. “I didn’t think Amish were permitted to be friends with non-Amish.”
Cindy took another bite to avoid responding to his statement. She didn’t want to lie to him, but she also didn’t want to share what her father and Sarah Jane said.
“Could I ask you something?” he asked.
Cindy’s stomach seemed to drop as she nodded. “Of course.”
“The day of the service, when you were upset with Sarah Jane . . . Why don’t you want to go to the youth group gatherings with her?”
Cindy gritted her teeth. She suddenly longed for him to ask about her conversation with her father instead.
“Never mind. Forget I asked.” He held up his spoon. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s too personal.”
“No, it’s not too personal.” She studied her half-eaten sundae while considering where to start. Her heart pounded as she searched for the courage to share her deepest and most vulnerable emotions. “It’s complicated. When my mother died, I was shattered. It’s hard to explain, but it wasn’t just about losing her. I also felt guilty for many reasons, and I felt lost.”
She peeked up at him, and the compassion in his eyes sent warmth and confidence spiraling through her, giving her the strength to continue.
“When I say I felt lost, it was more than that. I felt disconnected from my family and my community. Before she died, I was certain I would join the church like my siblings had, and then I would date, fall in love, get married, and have a family. But after she died, I wasn’t even certain I wanted to join the church.
“My sister Laura told me she felt God’s call before she joined the church. She said it was as if God had called her heart, and she knew to the depth of her bones that she was supposed to be a member of the Amish church. Jamie and Mark told me something similar. I’ve never felt that. Ever.”
She sniffed. “But it was more than that. I also have doubts and questions that the church can’t answer for me. I don’t understand why God chose to take my mother. In my religion, it’s a sin to doubt God’s will, but I just don’t understand it. Why did God take my mother so early? We still needed her. I still needed her.
“I live like an Amish person, but I’ve felt myself floating since she died—not in the Amish world, yet not in the Englisher world either. For seven years I’ve tried to figure out where I belong, while my siblings moved on with their lives, marrying and starting families. I could never understand how they were able to just move on with life after we lost our mother. I’m still so sad and broken after losing her. She was more than my mother. She was my best friend.” She took a deep breath before continuing.
“My stepsiblings are comfortable with their lives too. Roy will be married in October, and then Sarah Jane will probably meet the man she’ll marry. I’ll be left at home alone when they move on too. I’ll be the only sibling who isn’t settled.”
She paused, her throat constricting against her words as if her deepest and most painful emotions were rising to pour out of her. She felt emotionally naked, completely unprotected. She studied Drew, looking for any signs of judgment or ridicule, but she found none. All she could see was steadfast compassion and caring.
“So I haven’t joined the church,” she said. “That means I can’t date or marry.”
“And that’s unusual for someone your age, right?” he asked.
“Ya. My siblings joined when they were teenagers.” She looked down at her sundae and moved her spoon to create swirls of butterscotch in her lake of vanilla. “They’ve all moved on so fast that I wonder if they miss her as much as I do. Even my dad moved on. He met Florence five years ago and then married her. I was so hurt and surprised. It never made sense to me.”
Her eyes snapped to his as renewed guilt bubbled up inside her. “Is it terrible that I was hurt when my dad remarried so quickly?”
“No.” He shook his head. “It had to be a difficult adjustment for your father to bring a new wife and siblings into your home.”
“It was. I felt as if I was trapped in the past while everyone else moved on without me. I still feel that way.” She lifted her spoon an
d let melted ice cream drip from its tip. “When Laura left, I was crushed. I was happy she’d found love, and she and Allen have a wonderful marriage. But she and I always had each other. We shared a room from when we were children until Jamie got married. After Mamm died, we would cry ourselves to sleep in the same room. Laura was always there, and then she left.”
Cindy shook her head. “But when Mark got married two years ago, it got even worse. Then I was the last Riehl sibling left in the house.” She stared at the middle of their table. “Sometimes I feel like my dad and Florence are disappointed in me.”
“Why would they be disappointed in you?”
“Because I’m not like everyone else in the family. Because I’m not like Sarah Jane.” She dropped her shoulders. “Because I haven’t joined the church.”
“It’s your choice when you join, right?”
“Ya, it is.” She set her bent elbow on the table and rested her chin on her palm.
“And aren’t Amish people supposed to be nonjudgmental?”
“That’s right.”
“So then why would they be disappointed in you?”
Cindy sighed. “It’s expected that we join when we’re teenagers, and we’re called to marry and have children. We’re supposed to be active in youth group because that’s where we meet our future spouse. That’s when the dating starts. Well, I can’t date until after I join the church, but I’m still supposed to be a member of my youth group.”
“Did you go to youth group before your mother passed away?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never gone.”
“Why?” He leaned forward on the table as if he were riveted by the discussion.
“I’ve never felt a pull from my youth group either. I’ve always been shy. When my mom was alive, my older siblings would have their friends come and visit, and I would stay home with them instead of going to youth group. I’ve always been close to my family.”
He nodded slowly. “Are you close to them now?”
“I think so.” She looked down at her melting sundae. “But I don’t relate to them like I used to. Laura and my sisters-in-law talk about their children when we get together, and I can’t relate to that. I love all my sisters and my nieces and nephews. I just don’t know if I’ll ever have the life they do. I believe in God, and I feel his presence in my life daily, but like I said, I have unresolved questions about why he took my mom. I can’t share that with my family since we’re not supposed to question God’s will.” She gave a nervous laugh. “Does that make any sense?”
“Yes, it does.”
“So what about you?”
“What do you mean?” He scooped more ice cream into his mouth.
“I understood what you meant when you said you were searching for something, but you didn’t know what. I felt as if I had met someone who might actually understand me.” Her eyes widened, and embarrassment pressed down on her shoulders when she realized what she’d revealed. She’d said too much, but she couldn’t take it back.
“I felt the same when you said you understood what I meant.” His words were simple, but their meaning was a song to her heart.
“How did you lose your parents?” She held her hands up. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t mind.” His smile was easy. “I’ll tell you. I was ten years old, and I had been in a fight with a bully at school. My parents had to come up to the school to meet with the principal and me. My dad left work early and picked up my mom at her job. They were hit head-on by a wrong-way driver on a road not far from the school. They died instantly.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her heart ached at the grief she found in his eyes.
“Thanks.” He licked his spoon dry before he spoke. “For many years I blamed myself. If I hadn’t been in a fight, they wouldn’t have driven to the school, and they’d still be alive. I beat myself up over that for a long time, but I can’t change what happened.”
“You can’t change God’s will, but sometimes it’s difficult to swallow.”
“Exactly.” He pointed his spoon at her, and something softened in his face.
“Drew, how did you accept God’s will when you lost your parents?”
He pressed his lips together and looked down at the table as if contemplating his response. “I guess I accepted it when I realized God was there guiding me all along. He sent me my aunt, and I rebuilt my life with her.”
Cindy nodded, trying to understand.
They sat in silence for a time, and then Drew asked, “Do you have any guilt about how your mom passed away?”
She blinked as she studied him. “I do. How did you know that?”
“Just a feeling.” He studied her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Tears pricked at her eyes as she stared at the wall past Drew’s shoulder. “She and I were canning the day she died. She said she was going to take some of the jars down the basement stairs. We think she lost her balance, and when I heard her scream, I ran to her.”
She pressed her eyelids closed with her fingers, hoping to stop the tears. “I was too late. She had grabbed on to the banister to try to stop herself and it shattered. I had asked Jamie to fix the banister that morning, and he promised he would. I blamed myself because I felt like I should have been the one who carried the jars down the stairs. But I did the worst thing possible.”
“What was that?” Drew’s voice was soft.
“I told Jamie I blamed him. I said it was his fault she was dead.” She looked up as the tears escaped her eyes. “I told him he killed her, and I didn’t talk to him for weeks. I punished him to deal with my own guilt, and I know it was a sin. I was terrible to him, and I still feel horrible about it all these years later.” She wiped at her tears, and Drew handed her a paper napkin from the holder at the end of the table.
“I know he forgave you,” he said. “I could tell you were close when I met him.”
“He has forgiven me, but I still feel bad. And I still feel horrible for not carrying those jars downstairs myself. If I had, she would still be here.” She wiped her eyes and then her nose.
“Don’t say that. You shouldn’t blame yourself.” Drew reached across the table and touched her hand. “A therapist once told me my parents might have died another day, in a different accident. We don’t know, and we can’t change what happened. And like you said, it’s God’s will. Sometimes loss is in his plan.”
“I know it was his will, but I still don’t understand it. And perhaps I never will.” She heaved a deep sigh. “It feels good to talk about this.”
“I’m glad. I feel the same way.” He pointed his spoon at her sundae. “Your sundae is melting. That’s not allowed. You must finish it. Ice cream is not to be wasted.” He grinned before spooning more of his own melting sundae into his mouth.
“You’re right.” She ate another spoonful. “Tell me more about your aunt Shirley.”
“What do you want to know?”
“You said she liked movies with an actor named Bruce Willis. What else did she like?”
“Hmm. I already told you she liked to do puzzles.” He looked up at the ceiling as if the fluorescent lights held the answers. Then he looked back at Cindy. “She liked to bake. She wasn’t as good as you are, but she was good.”
“What was your favorite thing she baked?”
“Chocolate pie. It was fantastic.”
“Interesting.” Cindy made a mental note as she scooped more ice cream. “Tell me more.”
Soon their ice-cream sundaes were gone, and they climbed back into the truck and headed home. They talked about the fireworks, and disappointment crept in the closer they came to her farm. She didn’t want this night to end. She longed to stay in the cab of the truck and drive around with Drew all night long.
When he steered into her driveway, Cindy’s heart grew heavy.
“I had a fantastic time,” she told him as he brought the truck to a stop.
“I did too.” He turned towar
d her. “May I see you again?”
“Ya.” She nodded. “I’d like that.”
“I would too.”
They studied each other for a moment. “Well, good night,” she said.
“May I walk you to the door?”
“I . . . No, that’s okay. I’m fine.”
“Good night, then.”
“Tell Bruce I said good night to him too.”
He chuckled. “I sure will. Sleep well, Cindy.”
She wrenched open the door and then climbed out of the truck. She felt as if she were floating on air as she started up the path to the house. She spun and waved at the truck as it turned around and headed down the driveway, and then she hugged her arms to her chest and grinned as she made her way to the house.
When she looked up at the porch, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her father was sitting in his favorite rocking chair, and the lantern at his feet illuminated his scowl. The disapproval radiating off him filled her belly with dread.
“Dat,” she said, her voice thin. “You startled me.”
“Do you know how late it is?” His tone resembled a growl.
“No.” She shook her head.
“It’s midnight, Cindy.” He stood. “Do you think it’s appropriate for you to be out until midnight—with an Englisher?”
Her hot temper swept through her. “He’s mei freind, and nothing inappropriate happened between us.”
“You shouldn’t be out with an Englisher at all!” He pointed at her face for emphasis. “You shouldn’t be dating any man until you’re baptized, and Englishers are off limits.”
“I’m not dating, and I’m not breaking any rules.” She enunciated the words so there’d be no mistaking her stand.
“Ya, you are!” His sharp words ripped through her. She hadn’t seen him this angry since before Mamm died. “You should be baptized and dating like Sarah Jane is. Why are you being so difficult?”
“Difficult?” She winced as if he’d slapped her. “You think I’m difficult?” She took a step back as a twisty pang lit in her chest—a mixture of fury and hurt. “I’m not Sarah Jane. You need to accept that.” Now her voice was shaky, but she was so angry.
