Forever Amish (25 page)

“I'll be fine,” I said with as much moxie as I could rally. I wouldn't admit that a bone-deep fear had overwhelmed me. I'd never felt so alone.

From what Rhoda had told me, I assumed if I were Amish, men and women would be arriving at our home with food and to help me clean. Although it was Sunday, the day of rest. So maybe they'd wait until tomorrow. In any case, the community would restore the home and make sure I was safe and well fed.

After Ralph and Sheila left, my cell phone chimed. I viewed the caller ID to see a Pennsylvania prefix: 717. No name. I hesitated to answer. If it were Pops calling from the phone shanty, should I risk telling him the truth in his fragile state? But it could be Rhoda with bad news about Pops's health. Or Armin. I longed to hear his voice.

“Sally, is that you?” Lizzie said when I answered. “You've gotta come home right away.”

“I can't go anywhere.” I was tempted to reveal the mayhem.

“Please,” she said, her voice nasal, as if her nose were stuffed up, “we need ya here. Your father is fixing to take off. Mamm says he has a doctor's appointment on Thursday, but he won't wait. Mamm says it's not safe for him to drive. He's too weak.”

“Why did he decide to leave? Is Reuben harassing him?”

“Nee, he's worried about you. Your father and Dat have made their peace. Dat says Uncle Ed's the only man in the county who's not judging him.” Starlings cackling in the background told me she was in the phone shanty. “Dat's fixing to burn his fancy jewelry boxes tomorrow.”

I envisioned the inlaid roses on the covers of the boxes, the meticulous craftsmanship. “Can't Mrs. Martin sell them at the Sunflower Secondhand Store?” I asked.

“Nee, not after the bishop ordered them to be destroyed.”

“In any case, please don't let my father drive all the way here in his condition.”

“Mamm's doing her best to stop him. And, Sally, Armin was hanging around yesterday afternoon, finding every excuse to come over here.”

“He didn't bother while I was there.”

“He was too busy, I'm sure of it. Can you imagine moving into a new farm and house? He was securing his stock and purchasing equipment and feed.” She sniffed twice. “Tell me you're coming back today.”

“No, I need to stay here.” As soon as the bank opened the next day, I had to call and perhaps go in person. I hoped the banker would deal directly with me even though my name wasn't on the loan.

“What about the Sunflower Secondhand Store?” Lizzie sounded close to tears. “You'd leave Mrs. Martin in the lurch tomorrow?”

“You must have other friends who can take the job.”

“None that can … uh … use a cash register.”

“Come on, I don't believe it. Put a Help Wanted sign in the window. Won't Reuben let you fill in?”

“Well, yah, okay, I'll ask—” Lizzie paused, as if weighing her words.

“Lizzie, please tell me you're not planning to elope with Joe. I saw him—”

“Ach, I never want to hear his name again.” She let out a sob, then blew her nose. “He drove by our house yesterday afternoon with an Englisch girl in his car. She was nibbling on his earlobe.”

 

CHAPTER 33

Even when cleaned up, Pops's and my home held little appeal anymore. What had once felt like a cozy sanctuary now looked shabby and drab. I noticed cracks in the ceiling and chips on the painted molding. The house had been defiled.

I was startled by every sound, even the refrigerator motor clicking on. And I'd lost all desire to work at the car lot; I preferred the Sunflower Secondhand Store. If I hadn't been replaced by one of Lizzie's friends. I decided—after I settled things at the bank—I'd drive back to Lancaster County for a look-see, as Pops would say. I might as well face it; his voice and quips inhabited the crevices of my brain. I wondered how many of his idiosyncrasies I unknowingly carried. When the kids taunted me as a child, they'd been right: I was damaged goods. Maybe we all were, maybe that was why we needed God's intervention.

Those jumbled thoughts inundated my brain as I tried to sleep that night—without much success. The next morning, on Monday, I called the bank and transferred what I had in savings into Pops's checking account to pay off the late payments; my name was on his account so I could make deposits from the car lot. Then with Ralph's help, I exchanged the flamboyant Mustang for a modest 1997 Ford Escort wagon and brought it back to the house. Plenty of room for my clothes and Ginger. I was surprised at how willingly she hopped into the vehicle; she seemed eager to get back to the farm.

My thoughts retraced my initial sojourn to Lancaster County. I hadn't mentioned to Lizzie over the phone that our house had been vandalized, but perhaps Ralph had told Pops about it; I assumed the two men kept in touch. Yesterday, I'd tackled the mountain of books and dog-show trophies sprawled willy-nilly on the living room rug, making vacuuming possible, but the house still seemed grimy to me.

I prayed Pops wasn't on his way here—that we wouldn't pass each other on the highway. I recalled my ire when I'd first examined the letters from the bank. I'd have to confront him, but his health trumped all my other concerns.

Leaving several lights on, I locked the house, climbed into the Escort, and set my purse on the passenger seat. I slid the key into the ignition, set the car in reverse, and rolled a few feet, backing out of our drive. I heard a dull honk. I jammed on the brakes, glanced in the rearview mirror, and saw a midsize passenger van. The vehicle blocked my way. I felt trapped. In my scattered and unbalanced state of mind, I resented anything in my path. I craned my neck and saw its driver—a middle-aged guy with long sideburns—and a passenger: a tall man exiting the van. Armin?

My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him dressed in black pants; vest; and a white, collared shirt. I lowered my window as he ambled over. “You're the last person I expected to see,” I said. And the one I wanted to the most.

He rested his elbows on my windowsill. “Hullo, Sally.”

I wanted to say something clever and witty, but with his face so close to mine I couldn't speak. He opened the Escort's door.

I shut off the engine, slipped the key in my pocket, and got out. I wondered what he thought of my life here, of Honest Ed's Used Cars. Of me.

“I should have called first.”

“It doesn't matter. But you almost missed me.” I weighed the pros and cons of telling Armin I was about to drive back to Lancaster County. Would I sound desperate, like I was running after him or plain-old running away?

He glanced into my borrowed car. “Why did ya leave without telling me?”

“Are you kidding? I dropped off your radar screen the night we had supper with your brother.”

“Nee, you've been on my mind every minute.”

“You haven't acted like it.” In spite of the truth of my words, I wanted to fling myself into his arms and hold on to him with all my strength. But I maintained my composure.

He removed his hat and set it on the driver's seat. “I shouldn't have let Nathaniel's spouting off advice get under my skin that night.”

I slipped my hand in my pocket and extracted the Escort's key. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I came to fetch you.”

“I'm supposed to drop everything and come with you just like that?” The key fob dangled between us. “I'm beginning to understand why Rascal ran away.” I found him so attractive I could barely look into his face without grinning.

“Ach, that's not fair. He probably caught scent of something.”

“And what's to stop you from disappearing again?”

“My farm. My commitment to join the church. And my devotion to you.” He moved closer. “I came to tell you I'm sorry I wasn't more attentive these last few days,” he said. “I won't burden you with a list of reasons when you're more important to me than any of them.”

“Lizzie said you were busy.”

“But I should have stopped over.
Es dutt mir leid
—I'm sorry.” He moved closer. I could feel his breath. “Will you accept my apology?” he said.

“Yes.” Everything about him was impossible to resist. But I supposed the bishop would tell me I should seek God's guidance. So I said a quick silent prayer: I need help!

“Hey, how did you find me?” I asked.

He motioned to the van. “The driver's been here before. That's Arthur, the man who stumbled upon your father and recognized him from childhood. Your dat gave me your home address.” His hand traced my cheek as if I were a priceless jewel. “Come back with me. We've got plenty of room in the van for you and Ginger.”

“Are you sure my father's still there?” I asked.

“He was getting ready to leave, but Reuben convinced him to stay and help him with a project this afternoon. They've come to a truce. Ach, poor Reuben's past has caught up with him.” Armin gave his head a slight shake. “One lie leads to another. Yah? Not that I haven't been guilty of that myself. I've lied plenty.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because from this moment forth I promise you complete honesty. My reason for coming here is to ask you again if I may court you.”

I recalled our dinner at his brother's and felt my legs stiffen. “But you're infatuated with another woman. I saw it written all over your face. You're in love with Esther's daughter, Holly.” Or had I imagined it? If he really did love Holly, my chest might cave in.

“Nee, I'm not and never was. Old Anna—Holly's grandmother—had hoped for something that wasn't meant to be. And now Holly's happily married and with child.”

“Even so, I can tell you resent Zach, the way you talk about him.”

“Yah, I admit for many years I've harbored a grudge because he's held in such high esteem. That has nothing to do with Holly. It was false pride and I regret it.”

He cocked his head. “And how about you? You were all set to get married not long ago, were you not?”

“Yes, but I guarantee that won't happen. I never want to see him again and I'm sure the feeling's mutual.” I opened my mouth to list the reasons Armin's and my relationship wouldn't work either, but his firm lips found mine for a brief but impeccable kiss.

When we parted, I felt dizzy—in a good way, like a child who'd twirled in circles and was waiting for the world to stop spinning. But I reminded myself to keep a clear head and regain my footing. My future was at stake.

I said, “The first night I was at the Zooks' I saw you slip Rhoda a note.”

“From an Englisch neighbor who'd seen Reuben ordering a drink. Ach, the bartender knew Reuben by name. I delivered the note, that's all.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Did ya think there was something going on between Rhoda and me?”

“No.” I expelled a puff of air, then sucked it back in. “Well, I didn't know what to think.”

“Several people have reported seeing Reuben. But I best let ya hear it from him or Rhoda. There's been enough tongue wagging in our district to last us a lifetime.” A smile fanned across his face. “Wait until you see my new home. I repainted the kitchen the color of your eyes and laid new vinyl flooring. Please come back so I can court you.”

“Yes, okay, I will,” I said, as if my tongue were forming the words before I could even think them.

He stepped between me and the van, providing a shield of privacy. Armin bent down, his mouth seeking mine. Not a polite, demure kiss but the kind of lips-melting-together kiss that moved worlds. The kind of kiss I'd always longed for.

The van's driver tapped on the horn. When Armin and I parted, I glanced over and saw Arthur raise his hand and point at his wristwatch. While Armin and Arthur transferred my belongings and Ginger into the van, I ran the Escort's keys back to the car lot and explained the situation to Ralph. Then Armin helped me climb into the backseat of the van. He circled his hand around my waist and gathered me close. My head on his shoulder, I watched the scenery float by out the side windows for several hours. In the span of a couple of days, springtime had reclaimed the land. The trees by the road displayed the vibrant greens I'd noticed last week, but conflicts still wrestled within me. How would I approach Pops when I saw him?

 

The van finally rolled into the Zooks' barnyard. Through the windows I saw Pops and Reuben carrying armloads of jewelry boxes and other wooden objects out of Reuben's workshop and dumping them in a pile.

Arthur opened the doors and helped us out. The sun shone brilliantly; the sky was hard cobalt, like lapis lazuli. All traces of snow were gone.

Rhoda and Lizzie trotted down the back steps and hugged me. “Willkumm!” Rhoda said.

“Please, won't ya let me take Ginger for a walk?” Lizzie asked.

“Sure, she needs to stretch her legs.” I snapped on Ginger's lead and handed it to Lizzie. The two of them headed off down the lane with Rascal prancing alongside them.

I waved at Pops, but he didn't seem to notice. Nor did Reuben.

“I'm so happy to see you, Sally.” Rhoda glanced to Reuben and Pops, then turned her back to them as if wishing the whole scene would disappear.

“Could ya bring our Sally's things inside?” Rhoda asked Armin.

“Yah, of course.” He and Arthur emptied the van and ferried my belongings into the house. Then Armin paid Arthur, who sped away the moment the cash exchanged hands.

Bishop Troyer's buggy moseyed into the barnyard. Taking his time, the bishop got out and tethered his horse.

I turned to watch Pops and Reuben. His movements jerky, Reuben heaved up a metal gasoline can and spurted a stream of liquid over the mountain of music boxes.

“Hey, wait up, Reuben.” Armin strode toward him. “Are ya crazy?”

But before Armin reached him, Reuben pulled out a box of wooden matches, struck one, and dropped the flame atop the gasoline-soaked boxes. With a roar, a blazing ball of sparks exploded, followed by a black cloud of smoke. Reuben whirled around, covered his face with one arm, and patted his singed beard with his free hand.

“Do you have a fire extinguisher?” Pops called above the crackling fire.

“In my workshop.” Reuben pointed as a burning scrap of paper sailed toward the building. It landed on a thicket of dried grasses and ignited them, then spread to a stack of wood alongside the structure. Like ravenous dragons' tongues, the flames licked the side of the workshop, darkening its white walls. The partially open window on the workshop allowed the fire to scramble in.

Pops dashed past Reuben and shouldered open the workshop's door. A billow of smoke belched out, smelling of turpentine and paint. He vanished inside for a minute. An explosion shattered the air.

Rhoda shrieked—a primal screech.

“My propane tank.” Reuben's face twisted.

“Pops!” I envisioned my father collapsing to the ground and being consumed by the flames. Or maybe he'd already died of asphyxiation.

I headed after him, but Rhoda grabbed my hand. “You'd better stay here.”

“Please, God, if you never answer another prayer,” I said. “Save him.”

As Armin raced to the shop's door, Pops staggered from the noxious cloud carrying a fire extinguisher. Coughing, he fell to his knees, then used the red canister to prop himself up. He turned to face the scorching inferno, but his legs were too weak for him to stand. Armin seized the fire extinguisher and blasted the flames nearest the barn.

“The workshop's a lost cause,” Armin said. He shouted to Bishop Troyer. “Use the garden hose to spray the barn!”

The bishop yanked a hose over to Armin as Reuben turned it on. Water shot from the hose, but it couldn't reach high enough to do more than dampen the lower half of the barn. Sparks were pulsating from the workshop's roof.

Lizzie dashed into the barnyard with the dogs.

“Hurry to the phone shanty,” Rhoda told her. “Call 911.”

“Here, take my cell phone.” I tapped in the number and handed it to Lizzie, who rattled off the Zooks' address. Then I raced to the back stoop and tied Ginger to the railing.