The Rebel (16 page)

“I guess I should talk to her about it.”

Daad nodded. “I guess you should.” He turned away, as if satisfied that he'd made his point, but then he turned back again, his lined face serious. “Benuel, don't be so quick to dismiss falling in love. It wouldn't happen if it weren't a part of God's plan for people. God's ways are not our ways, remember. He may have plans for you that aren't what you think at all.”

Maybe so. As low as Ben felt right now, it was hard to believe God had any use for him at all. He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about Barbie. Wishing he knew what she was feeling right about now. As a minister, it seemed to him he ought to have a little insight into people, but Barbie—well, Barbie was a mystery to him.

•   •   •

Barbie
had to force herself to concentrate at work on Monday. She had the lunch shift, which was busy as always, with lots of demands on her attention. Still, Ben's face in the moonlight kept intruding.

She headed for the kitchen pass-through to pick up an order for an impatient pair of truckers. It wasn't as if she hadn't been kissed before. She ought to have better sense than to go on daydreaming about it.

But she couldn't seem to chase those moments out of her
thoughts. Telling herself she'd been kissed before wasn't really an answer. Teenagers smooched, of course, and usually that had been as much awkward as it had been satisfying. They'd gotten better at it as they got older, but by then, Amish kids were looking for someone to get serious about—someone to marry and start a family with. And she'd never felt strongly enough about anyone to conquer her restless urge to find a new challenge.

“What's up with you today?” Ashlee paused beside her as they headed back toward the kitchen. “You look as if you're only half here.”

“Ach, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I . . . well, I've had something on my mind.”

“Family trouble?” Ashlee took her time picking up a plate, ignoring the black look Walt sent her way.

“No, nothing like that.” Did Ashlee immediately jump to that conclusion because of her own difficulties with her family? Ashlee didn't really talk about them much, but what she did say clearly showed that they didn't get along.

“Guy trouble, then,” Ashlee diagnosed. “Don't tell me you're having problems with Terry.”

“Terry's fine. In fact, he wants to take me out to dinner someplace away from here. That is, if you wouldn't mind . . .” She paused. Did that make it sound as if she only valued her friendship with Ashlee for what Ashlee could do for her?

“Being your cover? Sure, it's fine.” Ashlee grinned. “You should know that by now. I'll let you have a key, and you can use my place even if I'm out.”

She flushed, hoping Ashlee didn't imagine she intended to entertain Terry in her apartment. “I'd just need to be able to
change clothes, that's all. And I don't really know if I'm going to do it anyway.”

“You should. And help yourself to anything of mine you want to wear. It's a good thing we're the same size. My closet is your closet.”

“You girls going to chatter or get this food up before it's cold?” Walt's bellow was loud enough to be heard in the dining room.

Barbie hurried to obey, certain her cheeks were scarlet. Ashlee just rolled her eyes and went ahead at her own pace.

It must be nice not to find so many potential pitfalls in the Englisch world. Still, if Ashlee were attempting to put a foot in Barbie's world, she'd probably have just as much trouble, not from lack of experience but from lack of understanding.

Several of her tables finished and left, giving her time to breathe again. She'd diverted Ashlee's attention from what was really bothering her, but she had considerably more trouble diverting her own.

She leaned over to wipe a table, retrieving a straw wrapper from the booth seat. Ben had kissed her. All right. Think about it rationally. A kiss didn't mean anything that serious, did it?

That might be a good argument except for the fact that at their ages, and with Ben being a minister, there was nothing lighthearted about a kiss. Benuel Kauffmann wouldn't go around kissing women unless he had serious intentions toward them.

But she couldn't believe he did, not about her. She was everything he disapproved of in a woman, and he'd made that perfectly clear. Besides, he'd seemed as surprised by that kiss as she had been.

Barbie felt her cheeks grow warm at the thought of how
she'd responded to him. She'd practically thrown herself into his arms, and yet it had seemed the most natural thing in the world. Surprising and yet somehow inevitable, as if they'd been moving toward that point all along.

No, they couldn't be. No matter how his touch stirred her senses, Barbie couldn't make herself believe that they were right for each other. Ben was rigid, judgmental, and anything but tactful.

He was also conscientious, gentle with his kinder, and determined to do the right thing. And she was making her own head spin.

Ashlee came up behind her and gave her a nudge. “You're going to wipe the surface right off that table if you go over it one more time. If this isn't about Terry, what is it about?”

The need to talk to someone overwhelmed her. She took a quick glance around, but the café was emptying out, and no one was within earshot.

“You remember Ben Kauffmann, Mary's brother? The one who's a minister in my church?”

“Sure. The guy who looks like he disapproves of everyone and everything. What about him?”

She lowered her voice even more, though no one could possibly hear. “We were chaperoning a singing for the young people last night out at his place. And we happened to be outside at the same time, and we started talking, and well—we kissed.”

Ashlee looked at her a little blankly. “Well, I get that you'd be sorry you kissed a guy who looks like he has as much feeling as a rock, but after all, what's a little kiss between two consenting adults?”

Barbie shook her head. She should have known Ashlee wouldn't understand. There was no way she could. “Ben's a widower with two little kids, and he's a minister besides. He doesn't just go around kissing people. And I—well, I'd have said I didn't even like him but . . .”

“But what?” Ashlee's eyes suddenly lit with amusement. “I get it. You liked the kiss. That just shows you're normal, right?”

“I can't kiss someone like Ben without being serious about him. And I don't want to be.”

She nearly wailed the words, or as much as she could while keeping her voice down.

Ashlee considered for a moment. “Is he somebody your parents would approve of?”

Barbie blinked, surprised. “I guess.”

“That settles it, then. I'd never go out with a guy my parents approved of.” Ashlee, looking as if the matter was settled to her satisfaction, whisked off toward the kitchen.

That might settle things for Ashlee, but it didn't help Barbie in the least. Maybe the best thing to do was try not to think about it, except that she didn't seem able to do it.

A sudden clatter, followed by a child's cry, sent her hurrying to one of Ashlee's tables, where a young mother had a baby in a highchair and a toddler on a booster seat. She was trying to lift the baby, who didn't seem to want to move, when the little boy upset his milk, sending it splashing over the table and his mother's slacks.

“Here, let me help you.” Barbie lifted the toddler out of range of the stream of milk and started mopping it up, leaving the mother free to attend to the baby.

But she was staring rather helplessly at her damp slacks and
looked ready to cry. “I thought just this once I could treat myself to lunch out, and look what happens!”

“Ach, it's nothing but some spilled milk. We'll get it cleaned up in no time, won't we?” She included the toddler in her smile. He nodded and began vigorously scrubbing at the table with the bib he'd yanked off. “Why don't you go in the ladies' room and sponge it off your nice slacks? I'll watch the little ones for you.”

The young woman sniffled once, nodded, and hurried off to the restroom. By then Ashlee had arrived with sponges and a small pail of water, and between them they made short work of the cleanup.

By the time the woman returned, looked subdued but happier, Barbie was entertaining the two young ones with a disappearing napkin and Ashlee had brought a plate of cookies and fresh iced tea.

“On the house,” Ashlee said.

The woman's smile trembled a little. “You girls are so kind. I'm sorry I got upset.” She stroked the baby's head gently. “My husband's working out of town, and I just get so lonesome sometimes I have to do something.”

“You can always stop by and say hello to us,” Barbie said. “We can use a good helper like this young man.”

“Thank you again, so much. Next time I'll remember to bring a sippy cup.”

Barbie headed back to her own neglected customers, smiling. No wonder the young woman got upset, with apparently no one to keep her company when her husband was gone. Barbie might sometimes want to escape her ever-present kin, but the alternative didn't seem very pleasant, either. That
reminded her of Grossmammi's stories and the trouble she'd had with moving. But if she hadn't, who could guess how that would have changed the lives of her family, including Barbie?

“That's why I'm never having kids,” Ashlee murmured as she passed. “Your life isn't your own.”

“You'll change your mind one day.” Jean, the grandmotherly older server, hearing her, spoke up. “You just have to find the right man. Isn't that right, Barbie?”

Put on the spot, Barbie nodded, escaping to get coffee for a new arrival. Jean, devoted to her grandkids, thought everyone should have children, just as her own mother did.

Would she want to have a family with the right man? She'd always supposed that someday she'd have children, but she'd never given it serious thought. If she did, in an Amish family, there were always people around to help—grandparents, aunts and uncles, and more cousins than a person could count.

For an instant she seemed to feel Abram and Libby snuggling close against her while she told them a bedtime story. A wave of tenderness swept over her. Ben would undoubtedly provide them with a new mother before too long. But it wouldn't be her.

She headed for one of her booths and was nearly there before she realized who was sitting there. Terry smiled, waiting for her.

“Hi.” She came to a stop, automatically pulling out her pad while her thoughts spun. “I didn't see you come in.”

“You were busy babysitting, it looked like.” He gave her that easy grin, nodding toward the place where the young mother and children still sat. “That was a nice thing you did.”

“Just my job,” she said quickly, wondering if he had watched her playing silly games to keep the children occupied.

“You went above and beyond duty, I'd say. Maybe that's what I like about you.”

Sure her cheeks were growing pink, she glanced at the pad. “Coffee?”

“Sure, coffee. And a piece of whatever pie is best today, as usual. I trust your judgment. And the answer to a question. Will you go out to that Chinese restaurant with me Wednesday night?”

She hesitated, but Terry's frank admiration and simple liking was a welcome relief after Ben's disapproval and her complicated feelings. She liked Terry, and it would be fun doing something she'd never done before.

“Okay,” she said. “We'll go out on Wednesday.”

Lancaster County, Spring 1960

I
t
was after nine o'clock, and even Daad Eli, who usually went upstairs promptly at nine, was still leaning back in his chair, a newspaper on his lap. Mamm Alice puttered around in the kitchen, and Becky had given up any pretense of sewing and stared out the window for the first glimpse of the returning buggy.

“It's hard to say how long the meeting might last,” Elizabeth said quietly, putting her arm around her sister-in-law's waist. “But you know they're always careful on the roads after dark.”

Becky nodded, smiling a little. “I'm foolish to worry, I know. Worry won't change anything, like Mamm Alice always says.”

“That doesn't stop us from fretting, does it?” She nodded toward the kitchen. “That's why she's still up, ain't so? Let's see if we can help with whatever she's doing.”

They walked into the kitchen arm in arm. She'd grown so fond of Becky in recent years that she was almost like a sister.
She was yet another person to miss if Reuben insisted on moving.

Mamm Alice was looking in the cabinet next to the sink for something.

“Can we help?” Elizabeth hurried to pick up the dish towel Mamm Alice had dropped.

“I was just looking for the other sugar bowl. Did one of you put it some place?” Mamm Alice looked fretful, a sure sign that she was worrying about the outcome of the zoning board meeting, too.

“The last place I saw it was in this cabinet.” Elizabeth knelt, reaching past a stack of dessert plates. Her fingers touched the handle of the missing sugar bowl, and she pulled it out. “Here it is, hiding behind the plates.”

“Denke, Elizabeth.” Mamm Alice shook her head. “I must need to clean my glasses, ain't so?” She set the bowl down on the counter. “I'm thinking the boys will have some pie and coffee when they come in. Guess we may as well get things ready.”

Exchanging glances with Elizabeth, Becky went to the pantry to bring out the two pies that were cooling there. Elizabeth started getting out forks and stopped at a noise from outside.

“The buggy.” Her fingers tightened around the handles. “Sounds like they're here.”

Mamm Alice nodded, setting the coffeepot on the stove. “By the time they unhitch, the coffee will be ready. You girls can cut the pies.”

Elizabeth realized she was holding her breath as she sliced into the cherry pie, letting the juice spurt out. Would they know for sure yet what the zoning board had decided? She didn't really have a notion of how that worked.

She should be worrying about how Daad and Isaac were going to fare if they couldn't get their produce to the auction. Well, she was concerned for them, but she had to admit that most of her feelings were more selfish. If the decision went against the Amish, Reuben would see that as yet another good reason to leave Lancaster County.

In a few minutes her ear caught the sound of footsteps on the back porch. Too bad a person couldn't judge much from that.

But as soon as Reuben and Isaac came in the door, it was obvious that the decision had gone against them. Elizabeth's heart seemed to sink to the pit of her stomach. One more mark against staying, then.

Isaac crossed the kitchen to where Daad stood, the newspaper still in his hand.

“I'm sorry, Daad.”

He shook his head. “Don't feel bad. Things will work out as they should, ja?”

“Well, they're working out the way the Englisch businessmen want, anyway.” Reuben's face was tight. “As far as I could tell, every person on the board had already decided before the meeting even started.”

“Sit, sit.” Mamm Alice pushed him toward a chair. “You can eat and talk at the same time.”

Elizabeth felt a reluctant smile twitch at her lips. Her own grandmother always said an Amish cook thought food was the answer to every problem. Lucky they had plenty of hard work to keep them from getting fat.

Only when everyone was settled at the table with food in front of them did Mamm Alice indicate it was time for conversation.

“What makes you say those folks had already made up their minds?” Daad stirred his coffee vigorously, his spoon clinking. “Aren't they supposed to hear everyone before they decide?”

Isaac shrugged. “It's not like a trial, I guess. They had this study all made up and printed on fancy blue paper that showed how much it would benefit the township to change the zoning. They even predicted how much money would come in as taxes as a result.”

“All we had to offer was the fact that farmers would suffer if they couldn't get their produce to market.” Reuben stared at his slice of cherry pie as if it wondered him how it had gotten in front of him. “Isaac did a gut job of speaking. So did the others. It just wasn't any use.”

“They kept saying they had to consider the needs of most people, not just a few farmers.” Isaac sounded as bitter as she'd ever heard him—a far cry from his usual carefree attitude toward life. “But where would any of them be without farmers to grow the food that they eat?”

Daad shook his head. “Mostly they don't think about it, I'd guess.”

“If you asked an Englisch child where milk came from, he'd probably say it came from a store.” Mamm Alice's tone made clear what she thought of such a lack.

“There's not much we can do about it,” Isaac said. “So I guess we'll have to figure out a way around it.” He took a big bite of pie, and his expression seemed to lighten. “There's always a way, ain't so?”

“Is there?” Reuben's eyes were bleak, and Elizabeth knew what he was thinking. He was convinced the only answer for them was to move on.

Daad Eli cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “God is still in control.” His voice was firm and sure. “Maybe we needed a reminder that we are to depend on Him, not on our own devices.”

“We do,” Isaac protested. “But it seems like the government is bent on making it harder and harder just to make a living.”

Daad Eli frowned at his younger son. “That is the cost of living Amish in an Englisch world. We got through the troubles during the wars, when the government wanted our young men to fight. And we won the right to have our own schools. We survived those trials. We'll survive this one.”

“Or we can move someplace where we won't have these problems,” Reuben said.

“Ach, Reuben.” Mamm Alice touched his shoulder lightly in an unusual gesture of affection for her grown son. “No matter where you are, you'll have problems. You can't run away from them.”

Reuben looked abashed. His mother usually left such chiding to her husband.

“I know, Mamm.” He held her hand for a moment. “Well, we did what we could anyway, ain't so?” He stood. “I'm ready for bed. Elizabeth?”

She nodded, hurrying to carry plates to the sink. Did that mean he wanted to talk before they went to bed? Or did it mean that his decision, like the zoning board's, was already made?

When their bedroom door closed behind them, she turned to him. He wore a closed-in expression that she wasn't sure how to read.

“Reuben? What are you thinking?” Her chest was tight with all the feelings she didn't want to let out. They couldn't quarrel
again. She'd begun to fear they wouldn't survive another argument.

He seemed to be struggling with himself. Then he reached out and pulled her gently against him. He pressed his cheek against her hair.

“I'm too tired to make any sense tonight, I think. Let's sleep on it.”

A wave of tenderness swept over her as she held him tight, and she nodded. “Ja. All right. Sleep is a gut healer, my mamm always says.”

Reuben seemed almost grateful. He didn't say another word as they got ready for bed, and he fell almost immediately into sleep, as if it were an escape for him.

Elizabeth lay awake, listening to his breathing, watching the dim moonlight from the window move across his face. They had to find a way forward together. They had to.
Please, God.

•   •   •

By
the time Barbie hurried toward the back room at the end of her shift that day, she'd second-guessed herself about going out with Terry a half-dozen times or more.
Enough,
she told herself firmly. She'd go and enjoy herself.

The room given over to the staff at the café was actually a storage room, with metal shelves along one side, a tiny restroom, and a few lockers. Green-and-white frilly café aprons hung on hooks, though Walt had agreed that Barbie's own plain white apron was okay for her.

Thank goodness Ashlee was still there. Barbie had to confirm Wednesday evening with her. At least once she'd told Ashlee, there'd be no backing out.

Ashlee stood by her locker, frowning at her cell phone, her whole body tense.

“Ashlee?” She let the door close behind her. “Is something wrong? Have you had bad news?”

“What? Oh, this?” She gestured with the phone. “It's nothing.”

Barbie drew closer. “You don't look as if it's nothing.”

“It's my dad.” She dropped the phone in her shoulder bag, looking mutinous. “He's really bent out of shape because I'm not coming home for my mom's birthday.”

“I see.” Given the strain she knew existed between Ashlee and her family, she'd have to tread carefully. “Do you have to work that day?”

In Amish families, birthdays were important events, and often the whole extended family showed up for dinner. Over forty people had attended her last birthday.

“No.” Ashlee snapped out the word, and then she seemed to think something else was necessary. “I just don't see the need to drive all that way to watch Mom blow out the candles on her cake. Anyway, she'll be so excited to have my brother's kids there she won't notice anyone else.”

“She's probably thrilled to be a grandmother. I know my mamm spoils my nieces and nephews like she'd never have spoiled us. That doesn't mean she wouldn't be happy to have you there.” It sounded as if she were taking the side of Ashlee's parents, so she quickly added, “But she'll understand, ain't so?”

Ashlee shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “I guess. I mean, it's not as if I'm ignoring her birthday. I'm sending her flowers and a card. But if I go, they'll just start bugging me about my life. Why don't I go back to school, why am I content to work
as a waitress, why don't I move home. It'll be the same old story. I told you that before.”

There didn't seem to be anything to say to that, so she patted Ashlee's arm. “I'm sorry. I hate to see you at odds with your family.”

“Well, you're not exactly open and aboveboard with your folks, are you? Did they find out about our night out yet?”

“No,” she said quickly. “If I'm lucky, they never will.”

The emphasis in her voice brought a smile to Ashlee's face. “Really? So what would they think about Terry?”

Barbie tried to look innocent. “What about Terry?”

“I saw the two of you with your heads together,” Ashlee teased. “Come on, give. Did you set a date?”

Barbie nodded. “Wednesday night, if that's okay with you. I can get someone to drop me off for work that day if I can spend the night at your place.”

“Sure thing. I told you, any time you want is okay by me.” She grinned. “I just hope this time you don't run into any Amish teenagers you think you have to rescue.”

“So do I,” Barbie said fervently. “Once in a lifetime is enough.”

By the time Barbie headed for home, they'd firmed up all the arrangements needed to pull it off.
Needed to lie to your parents,
the voice of her conscience remarked.
Call it what it is.

This wasn't such a bad thing, was it? After all, she'd eaten with Englisch friends before. Just because this was with a single man, it shouldn't make that much difference. She knew she wasn't going to do anything wrong.

Too bad no one else in her community would agree with her.

When she passed the turn to Grossmammi's place, she realized she hadn't talked to her grandmother in a few days. Grossmammi would be eager to hear about how chaperoning the singing had gone.

Barbie's cheeks warmed at the memories. Maybe it was best if she put off seeing Grossmammi for a day or two. Grossmammi had a talent for seeing the truth.

Her grandmother's stories seemed to linger in her mind after each time they were together. Everything in the dower chest had a memory attached to it, it seemed. The last time, Grossmammi had held a matching sugar bowl and cream pitcher in her hands as she'd talked about those days when they'd lived with Grossdaadi's parents in Lancaster County.

It had been odd to hear of the fear her grandmother once had at the idea of leaving her home in Lancaster County. Brook Hill had been her home for a long time, and Barbie had trouble imagining her anywhere else.

Grossmammi was so brave. She'd faced all kinds of sorrows in her life with courage. Who would have dreamed she'd once been afraid to venture into a new life?

Maybe Barbie's own yearning for adventure, for challenge, came from her grandfather. She welcomed change. It was the sameness of every day that troubled her.

She drew up at the metal mailbox by the side of the road. If Daad hadn't walked down the lane for the mail yet, she could save him the trip. She yanked down on the door.

The box held a handful of envelopes and a newsletter. She pulled them out and leafed through them. A round-robin letter for Mamm from one of her cousins in Ohio—that would please her. Something else that looked like a political advertisement.
And then—her heart plummeted at the sight of her name printed in pencil.

She'd nearly succeeded in putting that earlier anonymous letter out of her mind. But it seemed the letter writer wasn't done with her yet.