Healing Faith (21 page)

Our meal was the most pleasant of any of our meals so
far. I felt a lightness that I had not felt before, and as I looked
on my newly adoptive family, I discovered how much I had missed in
life with my estranged family. Hannah engaged Emma in lighter
conversation and Jonah left his stoic nature at the door. The only
quiet one at the table was Nathan, but it didn't mean he was
unhappy. He smiled and laughed quietly at Abigail’s excitement at
having another sister to have around, and glanced my way often, his
eyes betraying the fact that he was happy to be sitting across the
table from me.

Nathan excused himself immediately after lunch,
promising to return shortly. I watched as he left and felt the
distance when he disappeared behind his hill. When we had finished
cleaning up from the meal, Jonah and Fannie stepped out to the
front of the house, his hand moving in discreetly to hold hers as
they stepped outside. Emma dragged Abigail upstairs with a quick
grin, knowing that somehow the youngest sister would want to
eavesdrop. Hannah lingered in the kitchen with me, pretending to
clean the table with a wet rag.

"You should have something for him to drink when he
returns," she said with a smirk on her face.

I nodded and paced the side of the room.

Why was I so nervous?

I liked him, and he liked me. It was simple
really.

Except there were all these rules I didn't know.

"What if I do something wrong?"

She let out a noise that sounded like a snort and
shook her head.

"Katherine, I do not think you can do wrong with
Nathan. He just went to stand up to the Elders for you. I think he
is intent on making you his wife," she said and watched as my eyes
widened at her words.

His
wife
.

I hadn't really thought much past simply having tea
with him on the porch.

And maybe kissing him.

I had definitely thought of kissing him.

But his wife?

Why did that scare me? Surely I knew that was
inevitable, right?

I had never been excited about marriage before. Sean
talking about it had made me sick to my stomach because it was a
sentence with him, but the idea of Nathan talking about it with me
left a different feeling in my stomach.

"Katherine, you do not need to worry yourself. He is
as nervous as you are. He does not know much about courting a girl.
Just enjoy simple conversation," she chuckled and stepped up to me,
halting my pacing.

"Simple conversation, right," I said, nodding.

Simple conversation about life. Farming, gardening,
having babies.

I flushed at the thought of babies with Nathan.

If the first kiss disturbed him, I doubted he had
given much thought to the mechanics of having children.

I, on the other hand had thought a bit about that.
Every time he looked at me through his thick lashes, every time he
blushed and looked away. Every touch that sent a flush through me.
He made me feel very different from how Sean had when he touched
me.

But then again, Sean's touch wasn't gentle or
kind.

Sean's touch was demanding. Forceful. Painful.

"Katherine," Hannah said, breaking me from my intense
thoughts.

"What do I talk about?" I asked.

She laughed and stepped away to pour tea into two
glasses.

"What do you talk about in your world?" she
asked.

Sports, movies, where to go to eat. Unimportant
things here.

I was going to have a harder time than I thought.

She turned and handed me the glasses of tea.

"You will do fine. Tell him of yourself and he will
do the same. That is what is expected. Now go, he comes. The swing
is quiet on the porch. No one will hear you speak from there," she
said and ventured upstairs, the smirk never leaving her face.

I looked outside the back door and there, coming down
the hill was Nathan. He looked flushed and I realized he must have
run both ways, he had not been gone that long. Taking a big breath
to calm my nerves, I pushed my way carefully out the back door and
sat down in the swing, nervously watching him as he walked across
the yard towards me.

He slowed his gait when he saw me on the swing and
looked around to see if anyone else was around. My heart sped up
when I noticed his smile brighten as he stepped up onto the porch.
Nathan took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair
tentatively before stopping just in front of me. He looked down
towards the floor and cleared his throat.

He looked so nervous.

"Um, do you want to sit?" I asked, my own nerves
showing through my higher pitched voice.

Nathan offered me that quivering lopsided smile I was
learning was my favorite and sat carefully beside me, off to the
side and leaving a rather large space between us.

Placing his hat on his lap he sat there awkwardly for
a moment, looking off towards the garden in front of us. His skin
was still flushed from the heat of his walk, his forehead damp and
marked red from the inside of his hat. And his hand tormented his
hair as he repeatedly pushed it back off his temple.

I couldn't tell which one of us was more nervous.

It was kind of nice. I felt like we were on the same
level somehow, both of us testing the water with no pressure to
dominate the other.

I liked that especially.

He shifted in his seat and turned towards me slightly
and cleared his throat again, watching him as he licked his lips
and swallowed hard. It was then that I remembered I held two
glasses of tea.

He had me a little distracted.

"I'm sorry, I have tea. You must be thirsty," I
rushed out, offering him one of the glasses, which he took
gratefully.

"Thank you, Kate," he murmured and drank down most of
the tea before taking a breath. I watched in rapt fascination as he
swallowed.

I couldn't imagine why something as simple as eating
and drinking intrigued me, but it did with Nathan. And my attention
to him seemed to make him more flustered.

I liked how his ears would turn red before his
cheeks.

I dragged my eyes from his long throat and took my
turn looking out at the garden, watching as the house started to
cast shadows in the afternoon light. We were quiet as we sat there,
I sipping my tea and Nathan lightly tapping his hat on his lap. The
silence seemed to only add to our nerves as the minutes dragged
on.

One of us had to make the leap.

"It is hot today," he offered and then let out a soft
grunt and shook his head as if embarrassed. I laughed softly and
tilted my head to watch the blush extend down his neck.

"Yes, it's been hot since I've been here. I like it
though. It's a nice change," I replied and realized just a week ago
I had been lamenting on how I missed the fog.

Now, not so much.

"What is it like where you are from?" he asked,
turning towards me a little more and laying his arm carefully over
the back of the swing. His fingers were inches from my
shoulder.

"Um, it’s cooler, and the sun isn’t so bright, which
is weird I guess since it’s California," I stammered, my nerves
making me blather on. “But when the sun does come out it’s nice.
It’s never too hot.”

"I did not know you were from California. I thought
girls from there were always tan. You have more color since you
have come to us," he murmured and hid his nervousness by finishing
off his tea.

"Do you want more? I can go get more," I asked and
slid over to take his glass, our knees just touching. He
straightened a bit and his eyes widened when my hand came in
contact with his over the glass. He looked down at my hand over his
and shook his head.

"No, I am fine, thank you."

I set our glasses on the table before us and was
settling back into the swing when he surprised me with capturing my
hand in his. He glanced briefly behind us, as if he were afraid to
be caught touching me before he smiled and resumed his timid
exploration of my hand in his. His touch was so light, his
fingertips just touching the inside of my palm to coax my hand
towards him. He studied my hand carefully, grazing over the pads of
my fingers and then down to my palm to trace the lines there before
turning it over to stroke the tops of my knuckles. His fingers were
rough from work, but I didn’t mind.

It added to the beauty that was the man beside
me.

Hardworking, honest in his life.

I could feel my heart thrumming against his index
finger when he found my pulse at my wrist.

"Does it rain here?" I whispered, trying to distract
myself from wanting to vault across the swing and kiss him.

Talking of the weather seemed to be our starting
point in conversation.

He shook his head and didn't look up from my hand in
his.

"Not as often as we need. This summer particularly
has been dry. We need the rain for the crops. Do you like the
rain?" he asked and finally looked up at me with questioning
eyes.

"I do," I said and held myself very still while his
fingertips traced back over my palm before holding it finally in
his lap.

“What of your family? The day at the Frolic, you
seemed hesitant to speak of your mother. And Jonah told me that
your father has not helped you,” he said, his brow puckering at
that.

“My dad is a councilman and busy with work,” I
replied. “My mom died in a car accident.”

“I am sorry,” he whispered and I could tell by his
voice that he was thinking of the tragedy of his own family. We
were quiet for a bit, both of us unsure how to continue.

“I have a sister that lives in Illinois,” I said,
hoping to drag us both out of the awkward silence that had
enveloped us.

"Is that where you were going when you came
here?"

I nodded.

“You must miss your sister.”

I nodded again and looked away out into the
field.

“She and I are a lot like Emma and Hannah. But she
has always been protective of me. She was really all I had after
our mother died. My father dealt with his loss by jumping into
politics,” I replied and felt a moment’s sadness over not being
able to call Stacy after Nathan rescued me.

She’d be worried again.

He was quiet for a time, and I felt hesitant to bring
up his family, knowing how much pain he had at their loss.

“Do you live in a large city?” he finally asked,
perhaps trying to move us away from lost families.

“No, it’s not a big as San Francisco, but it’s a
college town, so there was always something to do there,” I replied
and continued to watch as his face reacted to my questions.

"We must bore you with our simple ways," he whispered
and pulled away a bit, his look a little forlorn.

I laughed, bringing his head back to me in
surprise.

"There is so much to do! I can't see anyone getting
bored too easily here!"

That timid smile fluttered on his full lips.

"I just mean you must miss the conveniences of your
world. Your music and television. And electricity? You must long
for those things?" he asked and shuffled a little closer to me so
that he could hold my hand closer to his chest.

The beating of his heart against the back of my hand
momentarily distracted me before I could answer.

"I don't really miss any of that. Music perhaps.
Music was how I escaped from things," I murmured. "And reading. I
miss reading."

"My mother had a collection of books, I can show you
one day if you would like," he offered.

"I'd like that," I murmured and returned his soft
smile with my own.

We sat for a long while, talking over things I liked
to do, and the general questions every boy asks a girl. He had many
questions about my life before, his face a little sad when I spoke
of my friends, how few I had. How I kept to myself mostly. We never
spoke of Sean, and barely touched on my relationship with my family
again. He smiled when I spoke about my love of baking.

And then he finally asked about religion. I fidgeted
beside him and looked down into my lap where my free hand lay.

"We don't really go to church much. It was never
really important to my mom or dad, except at Christmas and Easter.
I don't know much really," I confessed.

He nodded, as if contemplating something.

"You believe in God, though?" he finally asked.

Knowing how important religion was to the Amish, I
knew this would be one answer that might determine whether I would
be accepted in this community or not, based on my beliefs.

"I believe in God. I just don't know what to think
after that. I've never really read the Bible or anything," I
replied.

He pulled to let go of my hand and leaned away from
me. I thought perhaps I had offended him until I noticed he was
pulling out a small black book from his pocket and sucking on his
lips in the nervous way he did. He held the book gently, and I
could tell it was very old and well used, but taken care of through
the years. It seemed very precious by how he regarded it.

"This was my mother's. It was her Bible that she
carried with her always. I would like you to have it," he whispered
and placed it in my hand.

I hesitated in taking it, the immensity of him
offering it to me a little overwhelming.

"I can't take this, Nathan. This was your
mother's.”

He shook his head and pushed it back into my hands,
covering them with his own.

"I want you to have it. She does not need it anymore.
I think she would have wanted you to have it, Kate. And it is
something to read, at the very least.”

I held it tenderly, tracing the worn leather of the
cover with my fingers. It was indeed old, and soft to the touch.
His offering of this to me was more than any bundle of flowers or
chocolates a boy could give. This was something of his heart and
soul. This was his way of life he had handed to me.