Forever Amish (14 page)

CHAPTER 15

“Just how well do you know Lizzie?” I asked Joe, who stood staring at the door to the shop.

“We've known each other most of our lives.” His gaze almost met mine, then he looked away.

“You'd sneak off with her without telling her parents?” I understood why Joe wouldn't want to lock horns with surly Reuben. But what about dear Rhoda? Did Lizzie care nothing for her mother's feelings?

“From what I've learned looking through the books in the store, Lizzie could be shunned,” I said.

“Nee, neither of us have been baptized.” Aha, in spite of the car, clothes, and haircut, he was Amish.

“Couldn't you go back to living among the Amish?” I said.

“We've made up our minds.” He stood with a hand on hip. “We can always confess and repent and join the church later.” He seemed offhand, bordering on pompous.

“But this is a monumental step. What's your hurry?”

“We have our reasons, that's all I can say.”

Lizzie came into the room and a grin flashed across her face. “You're here already?” She unbundled the locket and fastened it around her neck.

“I thought it best I didn't come to the front door.” Joe swayed from side to side. “The weather's turning ugly. We should be on our way.”

The store's front doorbell jangled, and a man said, “Anyone here?”

Recognizing Pops's voice, I cringed. Not that I didn't love him anymore. I did, but I couldn't bear to hear him lie to me again.

“Want me to go out there?” Lizzie asked me.

“Sure, maybe you can get rid of him.”

But too late; Pops strode to the door leading to the back room. Ginger pranced at his feet. “Hi, girlie-girl.” Pops bent down and scratched her between the ears. It occurred to me how accepting and faithful dogs were; no matter that he'd left her in the car alone; no matter that he'd lied to me.

Rarely was I tongue-tied, but I felt as if I'd swallowed a mouthful of salt.

“I came to give you a ride, Sally,” Pops said. “And you, too, Lizzie.”

“Thank you, but I don't need one.” She sidled closer to Joe.

“I told your family I'd pick you up, Lizzie, seeing as I've got an SUV with four-wheel-drive.”

“Still, I don't need a ride. Thanks all the same.”

I stepped to her side. “Lizzie, please don't do anything impetuous that you might regret.”

“This is my only chance.” She looped her arm into Joe's.

“What's going on here?” Pops said.

“How is Lizzie any of your business?” I asked, then realized she was his niece. Like a flame igniting, heat traveled up my throat. Pops had yet to ask for my forgiveness for lying—not that a simple “I'm sorry” would begin to erase a lifetime of betrayal.

“I've been there,” Pops said.

“Where?” I asked. “Where have you been?”

“In their situation. I can see what's going on.” He'd never looked so thin and frail. I couldn't help but worry. He was, after all, my dear father, the man who'd raised me and loved me very much. But it didn't feel like true love, which required honesty.

Lizzie inched toward the back door. “We've got to go.” She reached into her apron, extracted the store's key ring, and tossed it to me. After years on the car lot, my hand instinctively reached out and nabbed it.

“Hey, you can't leave like this.” I fingered the keys.

“Yah, I must, right this minute.” She handed me a piece of paper with the name Doreen Martin and a telephone number written on it. “I called Mrs. Martin and told her we were closing early due to the weather. Please lock the front door when you leave.”

“But how will she get her keys back?”

“Please, won't ya help me with that and call her?”

“No, tell her yourself.”

“I can't.” When she opened the door, I saw white snowflakes drifting through the air. She and Joe stepped out into the storm.

 

CHAPTER 16

Standing in the store's back room, I listened to Joe's tires spinning, then his car rolling away. Ginger circled Pops's legs and leaned against him as if she liked him more than she liked me. Had everyone in the world deserted me?

“Sally, aren't you glad I showed up when I did?” Pops said.

“No, I never want to speak to you again,” I said. “Not until you come clean.”

“Now, honey, I know you don't mean that. You're my darling Mustang Sally.”

“If you think quoting that dumb old song is going to make an ounce of difference you're crazy.” I remembered how he used to sing it to me in front of my girlfriends, which embarrassed me to no end. But when he and I were alone, the tune made me giggle and feel loved. “I'm not going with you anywhere ever again until you tell me the truth,” I said. “Doesn't it say in the Bible ‘Let your yes be yes and your no be no'? Haven't you quoted that verse yourself and used it to make me fess up when I was a teenager?”

Pops fidgeted with his wristwatch band, checked the time. “It's almost five.”

“Are you planning to drive home tonight in this storm?” I felt myself being drawn in, feeling sorry for him, because I knew he was a sick man. He hadn't always been sick, but he had always lied to me about who he was, where he was from.

I crossed my arms, widened my stance. “I'm not spending half the night on the road with you.”

“Okay, I get it. I'll take you and Ginger to the Zooks' and drop you off there. And I'll switch cars.”

“Armin got the Mustang going?”

“No, I did. I bought a new battery at a discount store.”

I marveled at his ability to sidestep into a new subject. But did I want to spend the night here? Not particularly. Not when I figured Rhoda was preparing a yummy supper.

I lifted my chin. “I'm waiting, Pops.”

“It's a long story.”

“So? Spit it out,” I said. “I've got the time.”

He stuttered his first words. “As—as I guess you've figured out—I grew up Amish. I met Mavis during Rumspringa, when I was running around doing things I had no right doing. I was a bad seed, just like Reuben said.” He shut his eyes for a moment. “I never fit in. I always wanted to be like the other kids in town, riding bicycles and going to the movies.”

“You couldn't go to the movies? Or even ride a bike?” I felt sorry for him, even though I knew I was falling for a poor-little-me story.

“That's no excuse for my laziness.” He ran a hand across his cheek and ear. “I was slothful and thoughtless. And there was a pretty young Amish woman who liked me. Sixteen and baptized. She was so sweet. I could have easily courted her if I'd joined the church. But instead I started seeing Mavis.” His sentence tapered off, his words muting.

The mention of my mother's name made my legs go weak and the room spin, as if I'd just gotten off a carnival ride. But I needed to pull myself together; I could not let this opportunity pass. “What was my mother like?” I felt a stirring in my chest. Finally, the theater lights would dim, the screen would light up, and my life would be revealed in fabulous 3-D.

“She was cute. It was so long ago.” He sniffed. “And I guess you'd say she had a nice personality. Fun, anyway. Game for anything.” Pops rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand. “But that's not why I went out with her.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You're not going to like this, Sally. I wouldn't blame you for hating me, if you don't already.”

“Just tell me the truth. I can't take any more rabbit trails.” I clamped my lips together to contain my barbed words. I remembered reading in the Bible that the tongue was the most powerful organ in the body; I itched to unleash mine, to jackhammer into him with my wrath.

I waited in vacuous silence for several minutes.

“She had a car,” Pops finally said. “And the guys in town—I don't know how else to say it—they said she was easy.”

My stomach twisted. Maybe I didn't want to hear the story after all. Maybe knowing the truth would make me feel worse. But not knowing would eat me alive.

“Well, was she?” Sarcasm corrupted my voice.

“Yes.” He skimmed his jawline with his knuckles. “We had our fun, then the next thing I knew, she said she was pregnant.”

“Are you talking about me? So I was a mistake? If she was such a hussy, how did you know I was yours?” A knot the size of a golf ball expanded in my throat.

“I believed her, that's all I can say. When she said she was going to the city to have an abortion, I promised to marry her and raise the baby. That's you, Sally.” His eyes got so watery he looked like he'd break down and cry, but he blinked away the veneer of moisture. “I was doing what was right, and I still believe it.”

“You two got married then?”

He pinched between his eyes. “She kept putting me off. One excuse after another. We lived together for over a year. Then one day she said she couldn't stand it anymore.”

“Couldn't stand what? Did you treat her badly? Did you fight?”

“Please don't make me tell you, Sally.”

“You've gone this far. Spill the beans and be done with it.”

“She fed you on a bottle. I did, that is, and changed and bathed you, and I got up and walked you at night. You had colic and you screamed. Poor little thing, you couldn't help yourself. But your mother wanted to put you up for adoption. I couldn't let you go. I wouldn't. Not for anything. One day she packed her bags and left.”

“She left because of me? And you two never got married?” I felt light-headed.

“I reckoned she'd be back,” he said. “She'd walked out on me before, and she always returned after a week or so, when she was out of money. But she didn't that time, and I got scared. Scared she'd change her mind and go to a court of law to get custody—take you away.”

“Why didn't you bring me home to your parents?”

“Because I'd disgraced them. I'd already harmed them enough. And I figured if I came back to my folks, Mavis would hear of my whereabouts through her parents. If they even knew she'd given birth. I think she kept her pregnancy a secret.” He took a lengthy breath, let out a dry cough. “She and I had been living down in Danbury. A neighbor said his boss was looking for a salesman in his car lot and that same neighbor's wife let me drop you off for the day while I worked. They had several kids, so his wife said one more was welcome. She was a good Christian woman who no doubt saw right through my story.”

I vaguely recalled an older woman—she'd be ancient by now.

“I didn't want to be found so I legally changed my name and eventually opened my own lot.”

“Dishonest Ed's.” My mind spiraled with doubts, but an inner voice warned me to be cautious. His answers could all be lies. “Mom never came back asking after me?” I said. “Not once?”

Pops gave his head a slight shake. “Sorry.”

“And you never contacted her parents?”

“Twice. They had a telephone. Her father told me to never call again and hung up. I don't know what Mavis told them about me, but it must have been bad.”

“Or they might have read about you in the local paper. I mean, you did steal a car, right?” I leaned against the desk for support. “But they might want to know they have a grandchild.”

“They could have moved or passed away. Rhoda might know.”

I needed to go back to the Zooks' house to get my questions answered. But how could I arrive without Lizzie?

 

I sat in the passenger seat of the Toyota SUV with Ginger in my lap and the bag of kibble at my feet. Pops cranked the engine and turned the windshield wipers to high. They worked feverishly without maintaining our sight of the road through the accumulating snow. Globby flakes landed on the glass as soon as the wipers cleared away the white debris. At only five thirty, the sky was darkening to the color of steel.

“I guess you don't need directions,” I said, not that I was sure I could give them. The flurrying snow made it impossible to tell north from south.

“I know the way.” Pops gripped the steering wheel as he nosed the SUV onto the road and tucked it in behind a sedan that was fishtailing. A pickup stood abandoned off to the left. We passed barns—their roofs whitened—and sheeted fields. A beautiful sight in any other circumstance. I wondered if the newly planted crops would spring to life again when the snow thawed. And how about me?

From the opposite direction, blinding headlights approached like a locomotive. Pops slowed and moved to the right as a semi barreled past us. I pondered what would happen if we crashed into an out-of-control vehicle and I was killed—not my usual mode of thinking. Still, wouldn't it be easier to have my life snuffed rather than face more intolerable pain?

Bottom line: I was a mistake, never loved or wanted by my mother. And I couldn't foresee a resolution with my father. Or Donald.

Then I considered innocent Ginger. Who would take care of her if something happened to me while Pops was critically ill? Yet, I felt devoid of strength, my will to survive waning. I was tired of being a trouper. The way I'd felt in the dog-show ring: smiling and animated on the outside, my heart racing with panic on the inside. I'd feigned courage many times.

Up ahead, off to the right, I saw red brake lights blinking: a car in the ditch. Only its rear bumper and back tires were visible through tall scrub grass.

“Hold it,” I said. “That looks like Joe's Chevy.” A white blanket was already camouflaging it.

“If I stop, we might not get going again ourselves. Or someone could run into us.”

“You'd leave Lizzie stranded in a ditch? Stop, this instant!”

Pops slowed, sliding to a halt at the side of the road. He switched on the Toyota's emergency flashers and left the windshield wipers going. A layer of ice accumulated on the glass in spite of the defroster blowing on high.

I lowered my window; a blast of wind flung snow against my face. Sure enough, Joe was helping Lizzie trudge through snow-covered grasses toward the road.

“Lizzie, are you okay?” I called. She'd shed her prayer cap, but there was no blood on her forehead—a good sign.

She moved lethargically, like a bird that had flown into a window and was dazed. Maybe she had whiplash.

“We're headed to your parents',” I said.

“I need to take care of my car,” Joe said. An expression of panic warped his face. I wondered if his car or Lizzie were his number-one priority. In any case, he appeared younger, like the stray terrier-mix, its ribs showing, that had wandered to our home one winter.

Pops got out, closed his door. “I doubt you'll get a tow truck tonight.”

A tree limb yards away from Joe's Chevy cracked and landed with a thud. A car motored by at a crawl on the road, too close for comfort, followed by a pickup.

“I need to get out of here,” Pops said, “before I get sideswiped. Or one of you gets hit. This road is as slick as an ice-skating rink.”

“But my bag's in the car.” Lizzie's breath made small clouds in the chill air.

“Leave it,” Pops said, “or send Joe.”

Ginger peered out the window. My thoughts cavorted back to Mr. Big's tragic injury. I grabbed Ginger, held her tightly.

The wind howled and the globules of snow hitting my face and ears seemed to distort Lizzie and Joe's conversation. No, they were speaking Pennsylvania Dutch at rapid-fire speed.

Pops said, “You two get in, before someone smacks us.”

As Lizzie climbed in the backseat, Joe scampered down the ditch, slipping once onto his keister, and returned lugging Lizzie's bag. Then he slid in next to Lizzie.

I heard metal-clad hooves ringing on the icy road, and spotted a horse and covered gray buggy headed our way. It pulled onto the shoulder on the other side of the roadway, and Armin leaned out the window.

“Everyone okay?” he called.

“I told you not to come,” Pops said. “You're crazy being out here.”

Armin scanned Lizzie and Joe, then his gaze riveted onto mine. “Sally, are you all right? I'll give ya a ride if you want.” His question made me think he'd gotten an earful about Pops from Reuben.

Joe lowered his window. “How about me, Armin? Can you give me a lift home?”

“Nee, you're on your own. Sleep in the bed you've made for yourself.”

Thunder jerked his head, his ears back, as a car rolled past. I sat for a moment in indecision, then said, “Sure, I'll take you up on that.”

“Sally, have you lost your mind?” Pops said.

Dashing across the snowy thoroughfare would be a reckless act, I knew, but I needed to gain distance from my father. And from Lizzie and Joe.

Without answering Pops, I hopped out with Ginger, my purse, and the bag of dog food in my arms, traversed the road, and climbed into the buggy.