Love in Unlikely Places

by Linda Byler

Emma surveyed her surroundings, sniffed the tepid air, and could not help comparing this green world with the river and all its impurities to the wide open massive ocean, the sand, the smell she loved so much.

  This was not what she had planned for the summer. This was like a mud puddle. She felt as if she was a rubber ducky being floated along by a child with a stick. She regretted coming to this place, did not want to be here living in these close quarters with this strange man.

  She longed for the wide open space of the beach house and the ocean in front of it.

  Her foul mood only escalated when Elvin asked her if she would be okay sleeping in the dining area, that the seats flipped over to form a hide-a-bed.

  “Oh sure,” she said sarcastically. “Just set your morning coffee on top of my sleeping body.”

  Eva raised her eyebrows. “Touchy, are we?”

  She left them to their work, mumbled something about going for a walk, and left. She headed to the forest, not caring which trail she was on, or where it would lead. She never raised her eyes to greet any passersby, merely stumbled along with the huge chip on her shoulder, placed there by Elvin and Eva. Scheming, conniving couple.

  The story of her life. Being prodded, pushed, paired with men she had no interest in meeting, let alone dating. She could not believe her own best friend had done it this time.

  And he was old, and disobedient. She was no dummy. She could put two and two together. He was not a hired driver at all but some throwback from the Amish church, and Eva had thought surely Emma was desperate enough at this point that she might just fall for him. She could always tell the guys who grew up Amish but didn’t join the church. They never dressed quite English enough, and never had quite the right English accent.

  Certainly this guy was not husband material. Try and make a decent companion out of someone who hurt his parents, went his own way without a thought for anyone but himself. If they didn’t make sacrifices in their youth, they certainly wouldn’t for a wife, either.

  She stewed as she walked, preparing the speech she would give Eva when she got back.

  She found Eva at the picnic table, the others off exploring the grounds. Emma spoke sharply, fueled by the betrayal she felt by her best friend. “Look, Eva. If you think you can fix me up with this Matt, you don’t really know me. I can’t even believe you. How could you try to trick me like this, and after everything I just went through?”

  Shocked, Eva recoiled, setting down the paper plates and sliding onto the bench of the picnic table.

  It was a beautiful evening, with the glow of the sun that had slid behind the mountain leaving a golden residue, as if there was a kindness, a blessing left in its wake. The leaves fluttered gently, like a curtain of shimmering green. The scent of barbeque pits, gas grills, and charcoal fires mingled with the newly mown grass and dust from the horseshoe pits. Cries from the children at the playground carried across the camping area.

  “Now just what do you mean by that remark?” Eva asked, working on the red twist tie that held the plastic from the stack of plates.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  The length of time it took her to reply confirmed her suspicions.

  “Who is he?” Emma asked, biting her lower lip.

  “Ach Emma, you’re too shrewd. Alright, he’s a cousin.”

  Emma’s eyes flew open.

  “What? A cousin? From where?”

  “He’s from Lancaster. Where else?”

  “He’s not Amish.”

  “I know. His whole family is. It’s my mam’s brother, Elam Yoder’s boy. He’s nice. He just never joined up.”

  “Really? And you think for one minute I would ever consider a guy who left the church like that?”

  “Maybe.” Eva defended herself, her eyes flashing as she met Emma’s accusing stare.

  She separated four plates, placed them on the table, and retied the twisty, carrying the stack back into the camper, before making an appearance.

  “Okay, you can say what you want, Emma, but I’m going to give it to you straight up. This Ben should have contacted you weeks ago. If you’re going to waste your time moping around for someone who I can hardly believe wants to get in touch with you, that’s your choice.”

  A hot anger coursed through Emma, leaving her gasping openmouthed, staring with hurt disbelief.

  “You know nothing about us. About Ben,” she shouted.

  She turned on her heel, started off at a brisk walk, then began to run blindly, not caring where or when her destination would present itself. Eva was being unreasonable, cruel. Best friends did not throw matters of the heart around so easily.

  She knew nothing. Nothing.

  She slowed to a walk as she entered a woodland trail with a brown arrow marked “Clear Spring.” She breathed deeply, then burst into a raucous sob that came from the fading hope in her chest, the place that kept diminishing every day, every week. When the truth of Eva’s words settled in, it took her strength away and she sank to a bed of soft moss and leaves, drew up her knees, and wrapped her arms around them, her head laid sideways as the anguish welled up.

  She knew, she knew Eva was right. But it would all take time, the acceptance of it, the letting go of a romance, a love so perfect it was too good to be true.

  But still. Some girls waited years, and it all worked out in the end. Didn’t it?

  She would tell Eva it was not up to her to let her know when Ben was over.

  And so her thoughts sliced through the situation like an old-fashioned crosscut saw. Back and forth, back and forth. Defending Ben one moment, letting go the next.

  “Hey.”

  Annoyed, wanting to be left alone, she looked up, gazing with bleary eyes at none other than the annoying Matt.

  “Go away,” she said levelly.

  He stood in front of her, his hands on his hips, his cap pulled low, and said, “Now why would I do that?”

  “Because I’m asking you to?”

  He continued to stand there, so she tried again, more politely this time.

  “Go away, please.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Of course not.” Then, “You don’t have a Kleenex, do you?”

  He rummaged in his jeans pocket, came up with a rumpled paper towel, folded it in half and handed it to her, quietly.

  She took it without looking at him, blew her nose, wiped her eyes, and sighed, a shaking sound that left him helpless.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Then, instead of doing what she wanted him to do, which was to disappear, he lowered himself to sit beside her, saying nothing. She shrank away from him, her feet rustling the dead leaves.

  “Want to talk about it?” he asked quietly.

  “There’s nothing to say.”

  Still he stayed.

  “You know, this isn’t working,” Emma said, folding and unfolding the paper towel.

  “What isn’t working?” she asked.

  “This. You being here.”

  “Why not?”

  “They said a driver was bringing us. You know, hauling the camper.”

  “I am a driver.”

  “You’re a cousin.”

  “I’m sorry I’m a cousin.”

  Her mouth twitched, but she turned her face away.

  “So why is it so terrible that I’m a cousin?”

  “It doesn’t really matter, I guess. It’s just . . . well, awkward.”

  “And why is that?”

  Did he have to ask so many questions?

  She spat out a small sound of exasperation.

  “You just don’t get it. Eva is . . . well, you know. Matchmaking.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re kidding me. She knows I’m not Amish. I have an English girlfriend. Sort of. Why on earth would she try to get us hooked up?”

  She turned to glare at him. “I hate that phrase.”

  “You hate a lot of things. Me included. Look, I�
��m innocent. I have no intentions of becoming romantically involved. Trust me, okay? I’ve been bitten a couple of times, so don’t worry. I don’t plan on returning to the Amish and have no plans to ask an Amish girl, either. So relax.”

  A silence settled over the two of them, a subtle veil of acceptance, one of the other. At long last, he sighed, grabbed a twig and began stirring the old growth of leaves.

  “So is that why were you crying?”

  She told him the honest truth. Told him the misadventure that happened in North Carolina, ending with the worn-out excuse that Ben must have been too busy to hunt her down.

  He did not say anything for a while. Finally, he got to his feet, reached for her hand to help her up. She placed her hand in his and sprang lightly to her feet. He released her, and asked if she wanted to walk a little farther down the path.

  “It will soon be dark,” she said, looking around.

  “Not yet. There’s a long twilight on account of the mountain.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  CHAPTER 14

  WHEN THEY STOOD SIDE-BY-SIDE, MATT WAS NOT MUCH TALLER THAN she was, which was disconcerting, having his face almost to her level. When he tilted that cap, a tumble of black curls fell across his forehead and over his ears. She watched as he ran a hand through his hair before replacing the cap, tugging it low over his forehead again.

  His hands were immense, dwarfing the bill of his cap. They were covered in fine black hair, his forearms covered in a thicker layer of them. He walked with an easy gait, yet seemed to cover a great distance with a small amount of effort. Emma found herself quickening her pace, her breath accelerating as the terrain slanted uphill.

  “I want to show you something,” he said.

  They continued on in silence, but said hello to passersby, smiling hikers, or vacationers who seemed to be happy and relaxed.

  They rounded a bend, moved down a short incline, and came upon a hidden forest pool of crystal clear water that ran down from the mountain, across a pile of boulders and smaller stones, a fringe of fern and lilies of the valley, pale green moss and skunk cabbage surrounding it like a woodland scarf. She listened to the twittering of tiny wrens, the sharp shriek of a perched hawk.

  Emma stopped, her eyes opening in astonishment.

  “It’s so perfect,” she breathed.

  “See the cup on a chain? We can drink this water.”

  “How many other people have been drinking from this same cup?” she asked.

  He shrugged, said “suit yourself,” and bent to fill it, taking a long drink, the cup disappearing beneath the bill of his cap. Instead of offering her a drink, he replaced the cup, turned to find her facing him.

  “My turn.”

  “You’re going to drink from it after I did?”

  She lowered her eyes, motioned with her fingers.

  He filled the cup and watched as she drank the pure, sweet water. Her eyes were downcast, a pull of wind moved a stray lock of hair across her forehead.

  He noticed her freckles, the way her eyes were the same color as the pool of water, the way her long slender fingers curled around the tin cup.

  “Thanks.”

  She handed the cup back without looking at him, then turned on her heel, saying the trail was barely visible, and that darkness would overtake them if they didn’t get back. He told her it was darker by the mountain, especially beneath the trees, that if she’d be out in the center of the valley, the sun would still be shining.

  “It’s pretty dark here, though,” she insisted.

  “Would you like to sit here awhile?” he asked, motioning to the hewn log bench by the spring.

  “Not really. It’s getting dark.”

  “We might be able to hear a whippoorwill,” he said.

  “Really? I never heard one.”

  “Come here. Sit.”

  He sat down, patted the space beside him, so there wasn’t much to do except sit on the bench, which was much too close, as far as she was concerned. She sat as far away as possible, crossed her arms tightly around her waist, her eyes darting first one direction then another.

  He laughed, a low sound.

  “Mind if I smoke?”

  “Of course. Why would you ruin this perfect area with all those toxins?” she asked primly. She seriously detested that low-classed habit, figured he had no business even thinking about it. Not with her, anytime, anywhere.

  He raised both eyebrows, drew his upper lip across his lower lone, but did as she asked.

  “So now, this Ben. Tell me how long you’re planning to wait. Like, forever? A year?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I’m curious.”

  “Well, for a long time,” she said very seriously. “It’s not as if I had any other prospects. I mean, he was nice. He was sincere. If it . . . well, if Kathy wouldn’t have ruined everything, we’d have been together all summer. Probably married eventually.”

  He hoped this Ben would be discerning, watchful, because he could easily be prey to this Kathy’s prowess. Matt had seen some things since being out in the world.

  It was the way of it, after being released from the old-fashioned values of the Amish in which he’d been raised. He had resisted authority, the demands of a father who was not accustomed to his wife or children disobeying his orders. When his son showed signs of rebellion, he brought the hammer of authority down without mercy or understanding.

  But that was only a part of it.

  “I think you should wait. No decent guy would fall for this Kathy. She’s married, right?”

  She nodded. “They have two beautiful children, Brent and Annalise. That’s the hardest part. I miss them.”

  “More than Ben?”

  “In a different way, of course.”

  He liked her musical voice, the way it rose and fell, the way her hands demonstrated her feelings like fluttering birds. Clearly, she was suffering, desperate to be courageous, but hurting in spite of it.

  He sighed.

  “Yeah, life can be tough. But looks like you’re doing a great job, keeping your head above water.”

  She gave a low laugh.

  “It helps, now that I don’t have to worry about you wanting to . . . you know.”

  She broke off, clearly embarrassed.

  “No, no worries in that department. Absolutely. Sheila’s a great girl. We’ve been seeing each other for close to a year.”

  “What is she like?”

  “She’s short, dark-haired like me. She’s cute. Works in the lab at Lancaster General.”

  “Will you ask her to marry you do you think?”

  He held up one finger. “Listen.”

  She held very still. As clear as a bell, the whistle came.

  Whip-poor-will. An answering call came from father away.

  Whip-poor-will.

  Emma gasped audibly. In the waning light, she turned to him, her eyes shining with the amazing sound of these small, secretive birds.

  “It’s so clear. Almost as if they’re talking,” she whispered.

  “It is beautiful, their call, but they are quite common looking. A brown bird with a rather large beak and flat eyes. Have you ever seen one?”

  “Yes. In a nature book at school.”

  “You taught school?”

  “Ten years.”

  He whistled, a low sound of surprise. “Wow.”

  “We should get back. It is dark for real now.”

  Reluctantly he got to his feet, stretched, and agreed.

  “Give me your hand.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m afraid you’ll wander off the trail.”

  Emma laughed and told him to go first, she’d follow, and then she hurried to keep up. She’d never seen anyone cover more ground in such a short time without all out running. She kept her eyes on the trail, trying to see the tree roots and small stones on the path so she wouldn’t trip.

  He called back, “Careful,” just as
her sneaker caught on an extralarge tree root, tripping her as efficiently as the hook on a cane. She flopped flat on her stomach with a clumsy expulsion of breath, feeling very much like a freshly landed fish.

  He knelt at her side, relieved to see her laughing. He touched her shoulder tentatively, asking if she was alright.

  She rolled over and sat up, laughing even harder, her merriment catching him off guard till it finally sank in.

  “Whoo-ee! What a flop,” she gasped. “Wham. Down I went.”

  “I should have been more careful,” he said, ashamed now.

  “Nah. Let’s keep going, I’m fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Give me your hand.”

  So she did this time, and he held the lovely slender fingers in his own massive ones.

  The campfire was a beacon of welcome on their return. The little boy had already been put to bed, leaving his parents basking in the fire’s warm crackling glow, relaxed and happy to be spending time together.

  At their approach, they looked up, eager to know where they had been.

  “Hiking. We met up on the trail,” Emma informed them, in what she hoped was a no-nonsense manner.

  Eva gave her a piercing look, as in, you’ll tell me later, right?

  They were starved, and fell on the mountain pie makers, filling them with the slices of bread, ham, cheese, mustard, pickle relish, and whatever they could find to produce the wonderful campfire concoction. They feasted on potato chips, pickles, chocolate chip cookies, and kept up a lively banter as darkness fell heavily.

  “So Randy the driver is actually Matt the cousin,” Emma said sourly, though by now she didn’t feel nearly so upset by the whole thing. Still, Eva and Elvin deserved to squirm a little.

  Elvin looked at his wife and she looked back at him, guilt making both of them a little twitchy. They said nothing.

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to be a problem,” Matt said, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. But his voice made it clear he didn’t actually care whether he was one or if he wasn’t.

  Emma kept her eyes on the fire.

  Eva broke the silence, throwing up her hands. “Oh, everybody just get over it. We weren’t trying anything. We just thought you would enjoy the vacation, Matt.”

  He grunted in response.