Chasing Paradise

by Cindy Patterson

  She kept her Bible tucked close. Though it didn't satisfy her yearning to be back home in Florida, its nearness brought a much needed comfort. She meditated on that verse throughout the night and as the first light of dawn seeped into her room, her attitude softened.

  Rachel dropped two pieces of bread in the toaster, and her mom handed her a bottle of unopened jelly.

  “I guess we should’ve stopped for a few groceries yesterday.”

  “This is fine. We’ll get a good lunch.” Rachel ripped the seal off the top. “There has to be a McDonald’s in this vast land of nothing.”

  “You’re kidding, right? I was looking forward to something else. Anything else.”

  “I would love a juicy Quarter Pounder.”

  “Yeah, well you can eat all the hamburgers you want. Those days are over for me.”

  “No, they're not.”

  Dad's voice was as clear as if he were standing there. Beverly, are you ever going to start aging? Rachel's memories spun from one to another and wrapped her in pain-filled comfort as she swallowed the buttered toast with strawberry spread.

  The taste of agony bittered the sweetness.

  Rachel studied the houses of their neighbors as her mom drove into town. Fields of corn, soybeans, and wheat adorned miles and miles of property. The wilted gold swayed with the breeze like rows of thin, tired soldiers.

  In one field, a horse-drawn gadget was being led by an Amish man. He turned just as they drew closer, revealing a full beard. Young girls played in the front yard of another home, their dresses spinning as they chased each other. An older lady crouched low over a vegetable garden.

  Samantha would gasp in horror at the thought of digging in dirt. It made the prospect of starting a garden tempting, knowing how shocked her best friend would be.

  If there was any hope of contentment, it was up to her to make that happen. Finding a job had to be top priority. She paused as they stepped onto the sidewalk in town. “I’m going to look around, do you mind?”

  Mom gave a lopsided grin. “I guess it’s safe enough.”

  “It's Amish Country. What could possibly happen to me here?”

  “Plenty.” Mom searched the nearby stores. “Stay in this area. Let's meet here at noon, and we’ll get lunch.”

  “Okay.”

  As Rachel darted across the street, one thing became very clear. Regardless of the name, this would never be paradise.

  2

  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but Paul’s feeling of oppression lingered. It wore him down a little more each day. All his friends were already married, or just about to be. The only people he was courting were his customers. But lately even that wasn't enough. He needed more work.

  Paul drove his buggy into town and tried to push his unpleasant thoughts away. Quit wasting time worrying about something you have no control over.

  He arrived moments later at his small office. It was located in the middle of town, squeezed between a coffee shop and bakery. Only a one-room office, but big enough to get paperwork done and store a few things.

  The office would be the easiest to let go. It felt stuffy when he wanted to be outside doing physical labor. But he couldn’t imagine working with his uncle standing over his shoulder constantly. Paul had just about decided to talk to Aunt Leah, to let her know of his plan to move on. It would be hard to leave her and his cousins, but he could always visit. Besides, both his cousins would be getting married soon. How long could Paul expect to stay with them?

  Mid-morning, Paul stood and stretched. He glanced down at the wadded paper on the edge of his desk. Aunt Leah’s list. A perfect excuse to get out of the office.

  He reached the fabric shop and moved toward the counter to ask a question but stopped and waited by the button display as Emma Zook helped a customer. The customer's short, dirty-blond hair fell to her shoulders, and she stood a foot taller than Emma.

  She couldn't be from around here. Not with that strong accent. It didn’t surprise him. Tourists visited this part of the country often. He just never understood why.

  Hearing his name, he shuffled a step closer.

  “Paul, I was just talking about you.” Emma motioned for him to join them. “She's looking for a handyman.”

  He tamed his eager smile into a polite nod. “I’m Paul Fischer. It’s nice meeting you.”

  The woman took his outstretched hand. Her handshake was as strong as her accent. “I’m Beverly Adams. Nice to meet you, too.”

  “I don't want to embarrass him, but Paul's the best handyman around here.” Emma continued. “If he doesn’t have the time, I’m sure he could find someone willing to help you.”

  “What type of work are you needing?” Could this be an answer to his prayer already?

  “My daughter and I have moved to the area, and I need major renovations done to the farmhouse I purchased.”

  Paul’s head spun with anticipation. “When would you like to start?”

  She stood tall with her shoulders back, her smile confident but warm. “As soon as possible. I wanted to put off most of the unpacking until after the walls are painted.”

  “I can come first thing in the morning to discuss your plans in more detail.”

  “That would be wonderful. The address is sixty-four Old Leacock Road. It’s a big white house on the right.”

  She pointed with her hand in the opposite direction, and he couldn't restrain a delighted laugh. “Jah, I know exactly which one you’re referring to. It’s two houses down from mine.”

  “Great. I'll see you in the morning then?”

  Thank you. You truly are a God of miracles. He stared into the wooden slats of the ceiling as Beverly Adams turned her attention back to Emma. Finishing her transaction, Emma thanked the lady and welcomed her to Paradise.

  The woman turned to face him once more before opening the door. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Fischer. Thank you so much.”

  He wanted to tell her the offer was an answer to prayer, but he simply nodded.

  Emma waited until the lady left before turning her attention back to Paul. “Did you hear her accent? I wonder where she’s from. A very pretty lady, wouldn’t you say? She looked familiar to me for some reason. And she has a daughter ... Hmmm.” Her eyes glazed over with thought.

  Why had the woman mentioned a daughter, but no husband? Especially since she was wearing a wedding band. It was awkward but none of his business. She was offering a job, and that’s all he needed to know. He pictured a little girl with pig-tails, pulling on his pants and asking lots of questions.

  Emma took an exaggerated breath. “I can't remember, oh well. You'll be working for her. How wonderful for you! Now what can I help you with, young man?”

  “I need a set of needles and a spool of dark blue thread.”

  Paul thought about all he needed to do. He’d have to catch up on some things before starting this new job. Make sure there were no loose ends with the other ongoing projects. He anticipated the day he could hire more men, instead of paying subcontractors for the majority of the work.

  A genuine, thankful smile reached all the way to his gut as he closed the shop door. Maybe that day would come after all.

  3

  Amish women and children strolled along the sidewalk. Their long, plain dresses hung just below their calves. Little girls held onto their mother’s hands, their white caps tied under their chins.

  One wide-eyed child stood with her mother across the street and Rachel waved. The little girl lifted her hand filled with wildflowers just as her mother turned to see what had caught her daughter’s attention. The mother lifted her fingers and extended a warm smile.

  With a genuine smile, Rachel entered the bookstore. Shelves were filled with rows of colored spines of different widths and heights. The familiar woodsy, dry scent of paper filled the small space. She planned to visit often but would never get enough hours here. Sighing, she brushed her fingers across the new selection of Young Adult Romance.

  She stepp
ed from the store, and the fresh scent of cinnamon and spice from the bakery next door beckoned her forward. Icing on the sweets in the front window glistened. One man stood behind the counter taking orders. A bakery would probably require professional baking experience. But she'd check back if she had no other luck. She wandered a few shops down.

  A cool breeze swept her hair against her face, and a hint of sadness nudged her awareness. Florida had never been this cool in June. Not ever.

  Shaking the thought free, she spotted a restaurant called Plain and Fancy. After allowing a buggy and two cars to pass, she hurried across the street. A sign in the front window read, Open for Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. And right next to it. Help Wanted.

  She pulled the heavy wooden door open, and a bell jingled announcing her presence. The fragrance of bacon and coffee brewing permeated the dining room. Two rows of booths were lined against the walls. Tables covered with white linen scattered throughout the remaining floor space. A few families were enjoying an early lunch or late breakfast. There were even a few Amish among the guests. All the tables were taken, except one.

  Rachel had been standing near the front counter only a few seconds when an older woman approached from the kitchen. A tendril of gray hair curled out beneath her tight bun. Rachel glanced at the blue jeans and white blouse she chose to wear this morning.

  “May I help you?” The lady’s plump cheeks lifted into a full smile, her accent sophisticated yet charming.

  She swallowed hard, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes ma'am. My mom and I just moved to the area. I'm looking for a job and saw your sign in the window.”

  “What’s your name, young lady?”

  “Rachel … Rachel Adams.”

  “Well, as a matter of fact, Miss Rachel, we are in need of a waitress. Have you ever waited tables before?”

  “No, ma’am. But I can learn.” She twisted her hands together. Maybe she should've talked to Mom first.

  “That sounds like the kind of waitress I’m looking for. One with determination.”

  Rachel bit her lip to hide her smile. Turning from the woman’s steady gaze, she met those of a young Amish man sitting in the corner booth.

  “Could you come in the morning to fill out the paperwork and start training?”

  What? Paperwork? Training? I'm getting a job. Her gaze darted around the restaurant to the customers she would be serving. She reminded herself to breathe. “Tomorrow? Yes, ma’am.”

  The woman’s eyes softened. “You can call me Mrs. Mavis. Be here by nine, and we’ll get you hired on.”

  She hoped Mom agreed. She should've asked first. “Yes, ma’am, uh, Mrs. Mavis. Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow at nine.”

  Rachel never expected to find a job this soon. The sudden burst of excitement made it impossible to do anything but smile, even though she hoped Mom would change her mind and want to return home. To Daddy.

  Paul was eating lunch at a table near the back of the restaurant when the beautiful young woman entered. Her long hair, curled at the ends, hung loose down her back. Her white blouse intensified her golden brown skin. As she spoke to Mrs. Mavis, she glanced at him and smiled. Had she caught him staring?

  The table in front of him was empty and something in his gut tightened like a bolt. Maybe she would sit there. Eefeldich! Ridiculous! Would he talk to her if she did? Of course not! That would be asking for trouble. The kind of trouble his uncle had drilled into him since he was a boy—the kind of trouble too many Amish youngsters were flirting with these days.

  Before leaving the restaurant, the young woman glanced in his direction again. He looked away. She wouldn’t catch him staring. Not this time.

  He slouched against the bench, bored with the estimates spread out in front of him. She had been a pleasant distraction, but perhaps it was better she moved on. He needed this task completed before he started the new job.

  Paul’s attention returned to the folder until a sudden movement disrupted his concentration. The same Englisch girl sat on the bench outside his window and propped an elbow on her knee.

  She twirled her brown hair between her fingers. A hint of sadness mixed with admiration stretched across her features as she observed the community.

  “Hi, Paul.”

  He jerked back, bumping his head on the wooden booth. “Ach, Anna. Weighets?”

  “Wunderbaar-gut.”

  He studied the girl's demeanor standing before him. She was everything his uncle would approve. Energetic, helpful, and hard working.

  She'd been trying to steal his attention for several years, but he didn't share her feelings. It wasn't her fault, he just didn't. And he knew better than to give her false hope.

  Moments passed as he tried to think of something else to say. When he failed, he looked back through the window. The Englisch girl had disappeared, and it felt as if he’d been stung.

  Two bumblebees were circling a row of wildflowers when Rachel's mom called to her from across the street. Cantering hooves echoed against the pavement as she hurried toward her.

  “How do you like the town?” Mom carried two bags, and Rachel grabbed one.

  The delight of being offered a job helped. “It’s okay.” She hesitated. “Maybe we should start a garden.”

  “A garden? What a great idea, Rachel! Fresh vegetables from our own garden. I found an Amish man interested in doing the renovations.”

  “An Amish man. Really?” Wow, we’re both having good luck today. There would be a real Amish man working at the house. Then she remembered the man in the field with a full beard and funny hat. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” Rachel took a deep breath. “I thought I could get a job for the summer.”

  “A job?”

  Expecting that reaction, she pressed on. “I might meet some kids I’ll be going to school with and it won’t be so hard the first day.”

  The approach of laughter and chattering voices caused them to step closer to the edge of the sidewalk to get out of the way.

  “I think you getting a job is a wonderful idea.”

  “You do?” Rachel grabbed her hand. “Guess what? I’ve already found one. The lady wants me to start training tomorrow.”

  Mom’s brows crinkled. “What in the world? I left you alone for thirty minutes and you found a job?”

  Rachel pointed across the street. “It’s the restaurant on the corner.”

  “A restaurant? What would your father think about this?” Mom's lips parted. “Once you commit to this job, you're going to have to stick it out. Waiting tables is hard work.”

  “I'm sure I’ll like it.” Anything's better than being bored out of my mind. Rachel wrapped her arms around her mom.

  Mom pulled her closer. “My goodness, you are excited. I know I’m busy. And I think it will be good for you.”

  “Maybe your handyman could till a spot for the garden.”

  “He seems like a nice young man. He’s coming first thing in the morning, so we can ask him then.”

  “Hey, why don’t we buy the seeds today, so I can start planting? But we could have lunch at the restaurant first so you can meet Mrs. Mavis, the owner?”

  “That’s a great idea, and I’ll be able to ask questions about this job she gave my baby without my permission.” Mom's eyes narrowed.

  Rachel was surprised when her laughter came. It felt good.

  Anna stood next to the empty seat across from Paul, her hands placed firmly on her hips. “Why were you staring at that girl?”

  Had he been staring? He hadn’t even realized it. Not this time, anyway. Heat burned Paul’s neck, and he grabbed a napkin to cover his mouth. “I don’t know what you mean. Besides, why are you spying on me?” Paul focused on one of the worksheets when she didn’t move.

  “I just happened to see you sitting here.” Anna’s voice softened and didn't carry the same accusation. “I wasn’t spying.”

  “Ach, I wasn’t staring at anyone. I’m starting a new job and trying to get some last m
inute paperwork finished.” He tried to sound convincing.

  “Where's the job? Is it paying or is this another one of your charities?”

  Where had that come from? No matter. He knew better than to fall for that. Anna wasn’t interested in his job. She was only interested in hanging around him.

  He would never tell her. It would give her a reason to show up at the work site like the last time. She had brought him a shoofly pie proclaiming her mom had made an extra one just for him. The fellows jabbed him the entire afternoon about her being his girlfriend.

  Anna leaned against the table. Paul didn’t want to give her the wrong impression by inviting her to sit down.

  Then the bell jingled again, and the same Englisch girl reentered with Beverly Adams, the woman he'd just agreed to work for. His mind raced. That couldn’t be her daughter. She should be a little girl. Someone to annoy him with questions. “Sit down, Anna.” Her standing there would only draw attention.

  Anna didn’t seem to notice the way he said it, only thrilled that he’d asked. A couple now sat in the empty booth. The only other table available was near the front, but still only two tables down from his. To the tune of Anna's endless chattering, Paul's gaze ran over the estimates without really seeing the numbers. But Anna wasn’t the only one distracting him. It was the Englisch woman’s daughter, new to Lancaster County.

  The daughter who didn’t have blond pig-tails after all.

  4

  Paul propped his chin against his fist. He would be stuck sitting here until Beverly Adams and her daughter left.

  “At the singing Sunday, I’m planning to bring sticky buns. I know they’re your favorite. I’m sure Susie Mae will bring them too.” Anna rolled her eyes. “She always copies me.”

  He couldn’t let Mrs. Adams recognize him, not now with Anna sitting here. He'd have to introduce her, and she'd ask too many questions.