Forever Amish (11 page)

CHAPTER 11

My thoughts spiraling, I grabbed my purse and found the Mustang's key.

I laced on my running shoes, jetted through the utility room and out the back door, and descended the steps. As I unlocked the Mustang, I heard a far-off yipping sound, like a dog immersed in a fish bowl. But I dismissed the persistent noise. Relief surrounded me as I sank into the car's cushioned driver's seat. I slid the key into the ignition and turned. The starter clicked, telling me the battery was dead. I tried again. Nothing but gaping emptiness.

The interior light had been on last night when the door was ajar, but most batteries didn't drain that quickly. If I'd been the new buyer, I'd be hopping mad. Well, I was livid. My father had lent me a car with a bum battery and hadn't bothered switching to a new one. If I were in his lot, he'd get me started in a snap. I bet he'd tossed jumper cables in the muddied Toyota Highlander parked at the side of the house. Pops always came prepared. Except the person I'd just seen in the kitchen looked like a shell of the man who'd raised me. Honest Ed. What a laugh and a half.

I could think of only one person to call for help. I brought out my phone, located Donald's number, and tapped Send. The phone rang several times, then switched to his answering service. It was Saturday morning, only eight o'clock, but he rose early and often worked on weekends. Or he might be catching a round of golf.

I tried his number again and a woman answered, “Hello?” in a sultry voice.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I must have gotten the wrong number.”

Then I heard Donald's muffled words. “Give me that.” He spoke into the phone. “Sally?”

I trembled all over. “Who was that?”

“Uh, somebody. No one important.”

“Well, thanks a lot,” the woman said.

“Donald, who is that?” I said.

“A woman I dated back in college. I ran into her last night—”

My throat swelled with fiery contempt as I envisioned them fondling each other as they tumbled into his king-size bed.

“And you two happened to wake up together?”

The woman jabbered in the background, followed by Donald's angry voice. “Shut up! Not you, Sally. I don't know what happened. Guess I had a few too many. Anyway, where are you?”

My mind spun like a kid's pinwheel. I opened my mouth, but my tongue felt swollen and didn't work. A ripple of queasiness churning in my stomach, I thought I might vomit, but remembered I hadn't eaten breakfast or even had coffee.

Then a rap on the window startled me. “Sally?” Armin said. “Are you okay?”

“Who's that?” Donald demanded, his voice brusque. Some nerve.

“None of your business. And tell your mother not to send out the invitations.”

“What are you talking about?” Donald's voice shouted from my phone before I turned it off and stuck it in my pocket. I gripped the steering wheel and sat frozen in disbelief as I tried to reconstruct my life, but not one piece slid into place. My head fell forward. I was better off without Donald, I told myself. Hadn't I contemplated that very thought only yesterday? He'd just cheated on me—could there be any other explanation? Out of revenge for my sudden departure? Or were his escapades a common routine? I'd once seen lipstick on his shirt collar, but he'd sloughed it off and said it was his mother's.

I opened the car door. “I don't suppose you have a set of jumper cables, do you?”

Armin shook his head.

“Do you even know what they are?” I asked.

“Ya got no cause taking your frustration out on me. As a matter of fact, I lived in the Englisch world and used to own a truck. I got plenty of practice starting that old jalopy.” He stepped aside as I got out on shaky legs.

“Sorry.” I inhaled as best I could, my chest as tight as a new fan belt.

“I could check with the owner of the SUV or an Englisch neighbor or call the garage in town from the phone shanty.” Armin looked down at me with concern in his eyes. “Why are ya in such a hurry?” he said. “Rhoda and Lizzie said you'd be staying for a couple days.”

On this cool morning, heat snaked up my legs as if I'd just run a marathon. “I told them I'd decide in the morning. Anyway, that was before my father showed up. Do you know anything about it?”

“No, but I saw that SUV arrive an hour ago and an Englischer went in the back door. That's your father?”

“Sally!” Lizzie hastened across the barnyard from what must have been the chicken coop, judging by the eruption of clucking sounds she left in her wake. “Are you leavin' without saying good-bye?”

“You started this whole ordeal.” I spit out my words like poison darts.

“Sally, I thought—”

“That you'd play God? Why didn't you tell me?”

She fiddled with her prayer cap's strings. “Mamm was determined to find her long-lost brother before her parents died. I offered to help.”

“How dare you!” She hadn't caused my father to be a lying scumbag or made my mother abandon me. Still, to lead me blindfolded into this three-ring circus.

“Aren't ya happy to know the truth? We're cousins, Sally.” Her arms flung out to hug me, but I backed away. Lizzie wasn't my ideal cousin; she was a little sneak like my father. There was no one on earth I could trust.

“Please promise me you won't leave whilst I'm at work,” she said. “I have to go in today, what with Mrs. Martin injured. There's no way 'round it.”

I felt betrayal squashing me as if I were trapped in a giant car crusher, compacting me to the size of a smashed tin can. Would I have preferred to live in ignorance the rest of my life? I asked myself. Yes, if reality felt as if I were drowning.

I could barely catch a breath.

The plaintive words
Please, Lord, help me
vacillated through my mind, then puttered out. No one was going to come to my aid. I'd never felt so helpless.

“I was going to ask you for a ride to work, Sally,” Lizzie said.

I grabbed my purse out of the passenger seat and slammed the car door the way Pops hated. “I can't help you. This old heap isn't going anywhere. The battery's kaput.”

Lizzie turned to Armin and batted her lashes. “Please don't make me ride my scooter. It's so cold this morning.” She glanced at a blue two-wheeled scooter—like a miniature bicycle with a board between the wheels—leaning up against the barn.

“Yah, I'll give you a lift.” His mouth hinted at a grin, as if he'd heard her entreaties and given in often. “I was going to hitch up Thunder and go to the hardware store in a few minutes on an errand for your dat.”

“Thank you. I'll hurry and get ready. Please, Sally, say you'll ride into town with us.”

“I don't know.” By the time we returned, Pops might have left. I figured Reuben would see to Pops's speedy exit. Then I could grill Reuben and Rhoda about my mother. Or would Reuben boot me out too?

As Lizzie dashed into the house, I heard a dog's yipping again and realized the sound was coming from the Toyota.

“Ginger?” I loped over to the vehicle to see my darling corgi, her black nose pressed against the window. I made a quick decision: if the vehicle were locked, I'd break the glass before asking Pops for the key. But when I tried the handle, the door swung open. My father had left my beloved dog in an unlocked vehicle. I was incensed; someone could have taken her. He had no respect for me or my treasured pooch.

“Come to Mama,” I said to the frisky mahogany-brown and white corgi, her pint-size body wiggling. She launched herself into my arms. I held her against me as if she were the only tangible reality in my life.

Ginger growled, and I turned to see Armin leading his bridled horse from the barn. In swift maneuvers, Armin attached the gray covered buggy's wooden shafts to Thunder. The horse bent his ears back and his eyes bulged at me and Ginger with what seemed to be suspicion. Thunder's deep molasses-brown coloring was pretty in the daylight, but the horse looked ho-hum compared to some of the high-stepping beauties I'd seen on the road last night.

Ginger barked, but the horse paid no attention. “Shush, girl,” I said, then spoke to Armin. “Maybe this isn't a good idea.”

“Nah. Thunder isn't afraid of anything. Certainly not a puny dog with no tail.”

I leaned into the SUV for Ginger's leash and clipped it on. “I'll have you know she's an American and Canadian champion purebred Pembroke Welsh corgi. A big dog in a small package.”

“Don't get bent out of shape.” Armin passed the reins through a series of rings on the harness. “I wish you could have seen my Rascal.”

I pursed my lips. Now was not the time to become embroiled in the subject of people who carelessly allow their dogs to romp freely where they could get lost or run over by a car.

“Come on, girl.” I guided Ginger to a grassy strip so she could relieve herself. Then I led her back into the barnyard as Lizzie emerged from the house and flounced over to us.

“Sally, you brought one of your dogs!” Her soprano voice swooped up an octave.

Ginger wagged her stub of a tail and pulled on her leash.

“I didn't bring her. My father did.” I supposed I was glad he hadn't left Ginger at home by herself but wondered if he were using her to soften the blow. He'd proven beyond a shadow of a doubt he was devious; I had to assume anything was possible.

“She's so cute, like in the pictures.” Lizzie stooped down and put her hand out to Ginger, who licked her fingers. “She likes me.” Lizzie tickled Ginger under the chin. “Yah, you like me, don't ya, little princess?”

Not everyone was a dog-person, so I supposed I should have been pleased. Donald had complained of the white and reddish hairs on his slacks. He didn't have much use for cats, either. I wanted to plug my ears as our recent conversation replayed itself in my mind, but questions about Donald's faithfulness tunneled through my brain anyway. I figured he'd come up with a logical excuse, like the woman passed out or blah, blah, blah. And I might believe him, because my own father had talked me into his fabrications. How could I have been so gullible?

“I best warn ya,” Lizzie said, breaking into my cavorting thoughts. “Dat doesn't like pets in the house.”

“But you were all set to purchase one?” Another contradiction in her flimflam story.

“I figured once Dat saw a puppy, his heart would melt.”

“So where can I keep her?” I glanced around the barnyard, which appeared larger in the sunlight.

“Your dog could stay with me,” Armin said. “What's her name?”

“Ginger.” Ginger jumped up on his leg, and Armin bent to scratch her between the ears. I felt a wave of fondness for him wash over me. “Thanks for your kind offer, but I may take off at the end of the day.”

“Are you sure?” Lizzie steepled her hands under her chin.

I considered my measly options and felt marooned—a woman and her dog with little money and no destination.

“I've got a fine gut idea,” Lizzie said. “You come to the store with me. By the time we get home, your father might have left.”

“True. This is my dad's busiest day at work.” I watched Ginger sniff the ground and hoped she wasn't trying to follow Pops's scent. “I'm surprised he left at all when there's money to be made. His assistant must be manning the ship.”

Oh, Pops, why did you have to be a phony? I'd always resented the jokes about conniving automobile salesmen and had defended him. I associated with several fine car salesmen, among them Pops's assistant, Ralph, a good guy with a wife and three late-teenage kids.

“While you're gone, I'll get your car started,” Armin said.

“Thank you,” I said, meeting his gaze, not sure why he offered. I found the key and handed it to him. “That would be great. If it doesn't get you in trouble.”

“Nah, I'll be fine.”

“So, then, you're coming to the store for the day?” Lizzie asked me.

“I'd like to bring Ginger.”

“Yah, sure. The customers will love her. She's so cute and cuddly.”

I scanned my sweatpants and running shoes. “But look at my clothes. And I haven't even washed my face.”

“You can freshen up in the back room at the store. No matter about your clothes and shoes. If you like, I'll lend you a dress, apron, and cape.” Lizzie twirled and the black apron and dress's plum-colored fabric swished around her calves. “I have extras. Most of our customers would never know the difference, seeing as you haven't applied makeup yet. They'll think you're one of us.” She showed me the straight pins holding her apron in the back. “I'd help you pin it on.”

I didn't want to insult her by refusing and considered how easily I could slip into anonymity for the day; no one would ever find me. “I'll come to town with you but think I'll skip the clothes.”

“If you want a ride, we'd best get going,” Armin said. “I told Reuben I'd help him in an hour or so.”

Armin assisted me and Ginger into the buggy. Lizzie hurried to the barn and returned with a bulky, quilted shoulder bag. She lugged it into the backseat and perched behind me on a bench.

Armin undid Thunder's tether and the animal came to life, shaking its glossy mane, his front hooves hopping in place as if it had ants in its pants, Pops would say.

I made a vow to never quote my father again. I'd banish him from my mind. At least until he told me why he'd lied all my life.

Armin climbed into the buggy and grasped the reins. Lizzie leaned forward and spoke between Armin's and my shoulders. “Maybe we should use one of Dat's horses.”

“Nee, Thunder will be fine.” With a staunch grip, Armin worked the leather reins to steady the animal, whose front legs were still prancing in place. Then Armin adjusted one rein, and the horse turned and bolted from the barnyard. “Whoa, now.” Armin continued speaking to the spirited animal in Pennsylvania Dutch—I guessed he was trying to soothe the horse or maybe he was making a threat.