by Claire Adams
"Do you like living here?" I asked after deciding that being blunt was better than digging around the edges.
"Eh, it's okay," Honor shrugged as she kicked a rock down the road. "I liked it better before."
"Before what?" I asked. I was trying to keep up with her, but my battered body rebelled forcing me to limp along behind her.
"Before Mamm and Dat died," she replied over her shoulder without elaborating.
"I'm so sorry for your loss," I said, assuming that the Miller children had been orphans for a while given the fact that none of them seemed particularly sad. "How long ago did it happen?"
"Let's see, what's today?" she asked as she looked out across the fields and did the math. "Two weeks."
"Wait, your parents died two weeks ago?" I repeated trying to grasp the enormity of it all.
"Yeah, about that," she shrugged.
"How did it happen?" I asked stopping to lift the straw hat and wipe my forehead with the sleeve of my shirt. Grace had worried that the bright light would make my head feel worse, so she'd given me a spare hat from the rack by the door.
"Buggy accident," Honor said plainly. "They had to shoot Toby 'cause both his front legs were broken."
"I'm assuming Toby was a horse?" I said hoping I was right.
"Yeah," she said kicking the rock a little harder and sending it skittering out into the road. Honor followed it and kicked it back onto the shoulder where she rejoined me without saying anything more.
"You doing okay?" I asked feeling stupid for doing so, but not sure what else to say.
"What do you think?" she said looking up at me. Honor had the same blue eyes and blonde hair as her sisters, but there was a defiance in her face that none of the others seemed to have, and it made her seem tougher than the rest.
"Good point," I nodded. "Sorry for asking."
"Nah, it's fine," she said giving the rock a hard kick and watching it sail through the air landing a good distance in front of us. She looked sideways at me and asked, "What about you? Where are your parents?"
"They live in Chicago," I said, sidestepping the rest of the discussion about how I'd been disowned.
"You like it there?" she asked tugging at the neck of her dress and bending her neck to blow air down into it.
"It's a great city," I replied. "Are you hot?"
"What do you think?" she asked giving me the universal look teenagers reserve for adults who ask stupid questions.
"Yeah," I said as I looked up and saw that we were within a hundred yards of the phone booth. "You want to wait while I make this call?"
Honor simply nodded her head and kicked the rock toward a large elm tree that offered a shady respite from the summer sun. I watched her flop down on the ground. Leaning against the trunk, she began absently pulling grass blades out of the dirt before tossing them out away from her.
After a few seconds, Honor called, "You gonna make that call, English, or just stand there watching me be bored?"
"No need to be rude about it," I said irritated by her impatience. I walked over to the big, red booth and pushed on the folding door until it opened. Inside was an old AT&T push button phone with a silver face and a slot at the top for coins. As I stood staring at it, it dawned on me that I hadn't made a call on a pay phone since I was a kid and I wasn't entirely sure I remembered how to do it. I grabbed the receiver and hit 0 on the keypad, waited a few seconds and an operator came on the line asking if I needed assistance. I told her I needed to place a collect call, gave her Bugsy's number, and then waited. When the call went through, I said my name and waited for Bugsy to accept the charges.
"Jesus H. Christ, Wallace!" Bugsy yelled into the phone. "Where the fuck have you been? I've been texting, calling, and emailing you since yesterday!"
"I had an accident," I said quietly and then waited for him to calm down and listen. It took a few minutes, but he finally calmed down.
"What the hell happened with the meeting?" he demanded.
"It didn't go well," I replied.
"What do you mean it didn't go well?"
"Let's just say we didn't see eye to eye on the turbine project," I said.
"Goddamn it, Adam!" Bugsy shouted into the phone. "You were supposed to sell the deal and then get your ass back here so we could start working on the logistics!"
"Yeah, well, there's been a change in the plan," I said as I grew increasingly irritated with my friend's impatience.
"Adam, we can't afford to have you dicking around in Amish country," he said as I heard his fist pound on the desk. "You have to wrap this up and get back here A-SAP! The clock is ticking and if we don't nail down this manufacturing contract, we are so incredibly screwed I don't even begin to know how to explain it."
"You think I don't know that?" I shouted into the phone. "Jesus, Wiseman! I get it! I've been part of this deal since the beginning and I know perfectly well what's at stake!"
"Chill, Wallace, chill," Bugsy said shifting into his calm controlled self. "What do we need to do to make this work? How much time do you need?"
"I have no idea," I admitted as I sighed and leaned back against the glass booth. "This is going to be more challenging than we thought, Bugs. The bishop doesn't want anything to do with us, but I get the sense that there is something else going on around here. I just need a few days to figure it out and to find a way into the part of the community that wants to adopt it."
"How many days?" Bugs asked bluntly.
"A week, maybe two?" I suggested. "I'm going to be stuck here until they can get the parts for the car and fix it, so that'll be a week at least."
"What the fuck?" Bugs shouted. "What did you do to the car?"
"It met up with a ditch," I said. "Thanks for asking if I'm okay. Your concern is underwhelming."
"Fuck you, Wallace," he said impatiently. "Get the car fixed, get yourself in with the person who can okay the project, and then get your ass back to Chicago pronto!"
"Aye, aye Capitan," I said dryly. "Seriously, Bugs, chill out and trust me. I'll get the job done, but you can't be a dick about it. Give me a few days to figure out a plan and then I'll call you again and let you know what's going on."
"What happened to your phone?" he asked.
"Toast," I replied.
"Go buy a new one."
"Dude, I'm in northern Indiana in the middle of Amish country and I don't have a car," I said. "How exactly do you think I'm going to pull off that feat of magic?"
"I'll send you a new one via FedEx," he said. "What's the address?"
"Hold on," I said leaning out of the phone booth and hollering at Honor who was laying on the ground looking up at the tree. "Hey, Honor! What's your address?"
"Huh?" she said sitting up and looking at me.
"Address, I need your mailing address," I repeated.
"6117 North 100 East Corner Grove, Indiana 46764," she rattled off.
I ducked back into the booth and repeated the address for Bugsy to copy down. He assured me that he'd order the phone and have it delivered by that evening. I thanked him and said I'd call as soon as I got the phone set up.
"Adam, seriously, you have to get this done," he said. "If you don't, we're both going to be seriously screwed."
"Believe me, I know," I said before hanging up the phone.
I exited the booth and walked back over to the tree. Honor was laying on her back with her eyes closed and her hands folded on her stomach. She looked peaceful, so I gingerly lowered myself down to the ground and copied her pose.
"Work out your problems, English?" she asked.
"Not entirely, but eventually I will," I said as I looked up and wondered how long it had taken this tree to grow big enough to provide shade.
"Anything I can do to help?" she asked.
"Yeah, wave your magic wand and get your uncle to agree to buy my wind turbines," I sighed.
"Ha ha, very funny," she replied with teenage sarcasm. "But seriously, is that all you need to do? Sell wind turbines?"
"You heard me talking about this over breakfast," I said noticing that a slight breeze had set the leaves in motion, making the tree look like it was breathing. "And I wouldn't make it sound so easy. It's hard to convince people to do something that's good for them when they are stubbornly refusing to do it."
"You're telling me," she sighed as she rolled over and pushed herself up off the ground. She brushed off the front of her dress as she groaned, "God I hate this thing. I wish they'd just let me wear pants!"
"You're not allowed to wear pants?" I asked as I very slowly followed her lead. My head hurt, but moving around made it feel a bit better. Or maybe it just reminded me how lucky I'd been.
"What do you think, English?" she asked rolling her eyes before turning and heading for home. I quickly caught up with her and walked silently beside her until she spoke again. "Why do you adults always ask questions that you already know the answer to?"
"Good question," I replied not knowing how to answer. "I'm not sure; I think it's because we want to make sure we understand things. I don't know. Maybe we're just dumb."
"You're hilarious, English," she said without a trace of laughter in her voice. Then she sighed and quietly said, "I hate it here. I want out, too."
"Then why don't you just leave?" I asked. We were walking more quickly now and I was afraid that Honor was going to suddenly take off and run, and something about the prospect of her running off made me worried.
"Are you kidding me?" she said incredulously. "Who’s going to take care of Danny if I go? Who’s going to make sure the house is tended to? Who’s going to milk the cows and feed the hens? I've got responsibilities, English."
"I'm sorry about your parents," I said quietly.
"Yeah, thanks," she said, nodding as she walked a little faster. I couldn't see her face, but I did notice her raise a hand to her face and quickly wipe it across her eyes, but I said nothing. As we got closer to the house, I watched as she lifted her head and squared her shoulders before saying, "I guess we all have our place in the world, don't we? Mine must be here."
"You can still—" I began.
"Thanks for the talk, English," she said brusquely as she turned and headed toward the barn.
"Thanks for the walk, Honor," I called as she disappeared into the big, white building. I stood there staring at the door she'd gone in, wondering what she'd meant when she said she wanted out, too.
Chapter Nineteen
Grace
"Mr. Wall—Adam, are you okay?" I called from the porch where I sat peeling the potatoes Verity needed for dinner. It was a warm afternoon, but porch provided shade and the afternoon breeze made it quite pleasant. I'd watched Adam and Honor walking back up the road toward the house and wondered what they were talking about. Honor was a tough nut to crack, so if Adam had found a way to communicate with her, I was grateful.
"Yeah, fine," he said turning toward me. In his dress shirt, gray pinstripe pants, and fancy shoes, he looked completely out of place on our Amish homestead, and even more handsome than he'd seemed laying on the couch in the front room. His broad shoulders stretched his shirt to its outer limits, and with the two top buttons undone, he looked more than a bit like the models from some of the edgier clothing line ads in the magazines I had sent to my apartment back in the city. "Grace?"
"What?" I said.
"I asked if you needed any help with the potatoes," he said with a lazy grin as if he knew what I'd been thinking.
"All good!" I replied a little too cheerfully as I looked down and tried to hide the blush that I could feel spreading across my cheeks. I'd dated several men in Chicago, and I'd even gotten somewhat serious about one of them, but that had fizzled when he'd accepted a job in New York. We'd both agreed that a long distance relationship was more than we wanted to try and maintain, so we'd wished each other well and parted friends. That seemed to be where all the men in my life wound up, somewhere deep in the friend-zone. I told myself it was because of my upbringing and that once I'd worked my way through the teenage years I'd missed out on, I'd be ready to find a real partner. But in the six years I'd been living in the city, I hadn't found anyone who had made me feel like this English stranger did.
"Grace?" Adam said as he leaned forward in the chair next to me on the porch.
"Where did you come from?" I asked startled by his presence. "You were just out in the yard!"
"Um, I walked over and climbed the steps and took a seat," he said looking at me quizzically. "I thought you saw me."
"No, I was..." I trailed off.
"Daydreaming about how good I'd look in clean clothes and after having shaved?" he said with another half-smile that set my pulse racing again and that frustrated me. Adam Wallace was rather arrogant and he reminded me of the men in the accounting business who assumed I was a secretary rather than a CPA. As soon as they realized they'd made a mistake, they'd compound the problem by then flirting with me. The difference with Adam was that I felt myself responding to his flirtation and that confused me.
"You're mighty full of yourself, aren't you?" I asked as I turned my attention back to the potatoes and started peeling.
"I don't know that I'm so much full of myself as I am confident," he said as he leaned back and began rocking.
"Confidence, arrogance, tomato, tomat-oh," I said.
"Now that's not very nice of you," Adam said as he looked away. "But then I guess you country girls don't have to worry so much about manners, do you?"
"Wow, you've really set your sights on insulting me," I said feeling my frustration welling up and threatening to spill over.
"No, I'm just making an observation about the way in which you're being rude to me," he said turning back to face me. There was something about the way he looked at me that sparked a primal desire in me. It was complicated by the fact that right now I wanted to both punch him and kiss him.
"I'm being rude to you?" I said as I shot up out of the chair, sending the potatoes in my lap rolling across the porch. "I'm not the rude one! You were rude to me the other night before I even opened my mouth!"
"You're really quite volatile," he said as he winced and pushed himself out of the chair and began gathering the rollaway potatoes.
"I'm not volatile, I'm just annoyed by the fact that you keep making these assumptions about me, but you never ask any questions," I said yanking a potato out of his hand. "You come down here all high and mighty expecting that the country folk will just bend to your will and do your bidding. We may be plain folk, Mr. Wallace, but we're not stupid!"
"I never said you were," he said calmly placing the potatoes he'd gathered in the pot by my chair before moving closer. He was less than a foot away from me and I could smell the scent of his cologne as I tried not to stare at the triangle of bare skin exposed by his open shirt. I looked up into his eyes and saw that he was smiling warmly as he looked down at me.
"What?" I said trying to make my tone slightly less defensive and not succeeding.
"You're quite pretty," he said holding my gaze.
"You mean for a country girl?" I shot back.
"No, for any girl, really," he said as he reached out and pushed a stray piece of hair away from my face. I shivered as I felt his fingers lightly caress my cheek. He tucked the hair behind my ear and I inhaled deeply as he cupped my face with his warm hand. Then he bent down and brushed his lips across mine whispering, "Grace."
I whimpered as my mind spun in a whirling vortex of yes and no and yes. Just as I had opened my mouth to reply, I heard a buggy turn into the drive and I jumped back away from Adam knocking over the pot of potatoes near my feet. Again, the vegetables went rolling across the porch as a familiar voice called my name.
"Grace! Grace!" Gabe yelled from the driver's seat of the buggy. "I was hoping I'd catch you at home!"
"Hi, Gabe," I called trying to force myself to sound cheerful as Adam and I gathered up the potatoes for a second time. "Yes, I'm home."
"Well hello, Mr. Wallace!" Gabe said as he
reached into the back seat of the buggy and pulled out a small, leather suitcase and matching briefcase. "Mamm said you needed these, so I volunteered to bring them over."
"Thank you, Gabe," Adam said gingerly descending the stairs and attempting to take the bags from the tall man with the bowl-shaped haircut. Gabe's bare face told me that he wasn't yet married, and I wondered what he was waiting for. There were plenty of eligible young women in the Corner Grove community, and I was certain that there were at least a few who had their eye on him.
"Oh no, let me take them inside, sir," Gabe said holding the bags back. "It's the least I can do."
I could see that Adam was visibly relieved by Gabe's offer, but I was not. If Gabe came into the house, then we would have to invite him to stay for supper, and then he'd want to take a walk with me after we ate. I wasn't in the mood to have a conversation with him.
"I can get them," I said reaching out to grab the handles of both bags. Gabe lifted the bags up as he climbed the stairs before I could stop him. He set one bag down and pulled open the front door and went inside.
"Grace, where do you want me to put Mr. Wallace's bags," he called from the living room. I sighed as I followed him into the house.
"Put them in the front bedroom," I said without emotion.
"But Grace, that's your—"
"The front bedroom," I said cutting him off before he could say anything more. Gabe nodded and followed my directions without further protest.
Before Gabe emerged from the bedroom, I looked to see that Adam had stayed on the front porch. I was grateful that he'd extracted himself from the interaction between Gabe and me.
"Grace, what are you doing?" Gabe whispered as he returned to the living room. "You know that you shouldn't have him in your house. What would your Dat say about this?"
"I think he'd say that we're put here on this earth to be useful," I said irritated that Gabe had drawn my parents into the discussion. I knew perfectly well what Mamm and Dat would have said. They would have been polite to Adam, but they never would have offered to let him stay in the house with our family.