The chocolate was hot and topped with whipped cream. And in the bag she found the little cinnamon sugar-dusted homemade doughnut holes the diner was famous for, warm and crusty and sweet.
She held out the bag to him. He took one and popped it into his mouth. She laughed. “You look like a chipmunk.”
He plucked one out of the bag, put it in the other side of his mouth, and mugged at her.
“Definitely a chipmunk.”
He snorted a laugh and then choked. She thumped him on the back, biting her lip and struggling to contain her mirth.
“I’m fine!” he gasped. “You can stop beating me now.”
She sat back and smiled at him. “I wasn’t beating you.”
“You were being pretty enthusiastic.” He took a sip, then another of his hot chocolate.
“Just trying to save you from death by doughnut.”
“I’d forgotten what a smart mouth you have,” he told her as he started the truck.
“I’m just smart,” she said pertly. It felt so good to be with him. She wondered if he felt the same way. She glimpsed a hint of smile lurking at the corner of his mouth as she gave him a covert glance.
“My schweschders act like I talk outrageously,” she said. Then, horrified at what she’d blurted out, she put another doughnut hole in her mouth to shut herself up.
“They still giving you a hard time?”
She jerked her head to stare at him.
“They always did. Thought they’d have stopped by now.”
“I’ll always be the boppli of the family,” she complained.
“Yeah, me, too.”
She thought about it. “That’s true. You’re the youngest in your family, too. I think that was the first thing we discovered we had in common. Then came horses. The interest in them, I mean.”
“True.”
“Do you miss them?”
“Miss them? My brothers? I just saw them yesterday, remember?”
“Ya, but it’s not the same now that they’re married and not living at home.” She fell silent. “Even when my schweschders were driving me crazy treating me like a boppli and everything, they were my best friends.”
“I know. I feel the same way about my brothers. We got closer than most because Dad was so rough on us. We were a real unit when we decided we had to leave.”
“They’ve both come back,” she said quietly. Oh, how she wanted to ask him if he still thought it wasn’t for him. But she didn’t want to disturb this . . . ease between them that she’d longed for these past months.
“I’m glad I started going to the quilting class at the shelter,” she said, staring ahead at the road. “I became friends with Kate and a lot of women I’d never have met if I hadn’t gone there. Of course, there’s a downside. The women go on to their own lives and get jobs and their own places.” She looked at him. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Have you made any friends away from our community?”
He frowned. “Not a lot. Not much time.”
“That’s too bad.” But she didn’t really mean it. If he wasn’t making friends, maybe that meant that he wasn’t putting down roots in the Englisch community.
And as much as she wanted him to be happy, she really wanted him to be happy in her community—their community. If that made her a bad person, well then, she guessed she was a bad person.
***
John gave Rose Anna a wary glance. She hadn’t talked for miles.
Rose Anna had never been a quiet person. Sure, sometimes in the past she talked too much, and it wore him a little. But she’d gone silent after he said he hadn’t made friends in the Englisch community.
Why had that made her stop talking? Did she feel sorry for him? That didn’t sit well. He didn’t want her pity.
“I went to a party the other night,” he found himself telling her.
“Was it fun?”
He shrugged. “It was okay.” That nagging worry came back again. What if Kate had told her that she’d pulled him over for a sobriety test after it? But once again her expression didn’t change, and she didn’t say anything to indicate Kate had spoken about it.
“I’m doing some work on the place I live to get a break on the rent. That’s taking up a lot of my evenings when I come home.”
“All work and no play . . .”
“Yeah. Well, I’m used to working hard. I watch TV sometimes to relax.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he slowed down behind a buggy. “I can see why the bishops want to keep it out of Amish homes. There’s so much to watch—sports and movies and music shows. It can be addictive. Sam couldn’t tear me away from it when we first moved into an apartment together and we had a small set.” He chuckled. “I got better about not watching it so much.”
He caught a glimpse of movement to the right off the road. A deer bounded into the path of the truck. He jerked the wheel to the left and tried to swerve out of the way but felt the impact of it hit.
Rose Anna threw her arms up in front of her face and screamed.
John pulled the truck over to the side of the road, shut off the engine, and turned to her. “Are you all right?”
She lowered her arms and nodded. “I think so.”
He unbuckled his seat belt and got out to check on the deer. When he heard her door open, he waved her back. He didn’t want her to see it if it was bloody—or dead. “Don’t get out. It might hurt you.”
“Not if it’s hurt.”
To his shock, the deer struggled to its feet and ran off.
“Well, guess it’s not hurt too bad.”
“Gut,” she said, slipping out of the truck and holding onto the door handle as if she needed its support. “I’m not schur if I could have handled seeing it killed.” She took a deep breath. “That doesn’t happen often when you ride in a buggy.”
“Nope. Only heard of it happening once.”
He opened the passenger-side door for her and waited until she tucked her skirts inside before he shut it. Then he thought to check for damage to the truck. There was only a small dent to the bumper to show anything had happened.
Relieved, he walked around to his side. “Well, that was some excitement I can do without.” He rested his hands on the steering wheel. Thank goodness it had been daylight and he’d been able to see the deer and swerve. Too often drivers weren’t as lucky at night in these parts.
He glanced at her and saw she was clenching her hands in her lap. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Schur.” But her smile was shaky.
A car sped past, and the gust of wind shook the truck a little. He started the engine. “We need to get off the side of the road so there’s not another accident.”
“You’re right.”
He saw a sign for a restaurant that featured “Amish home cooking” ahead. Locals and tourists alike favored it. “Listen, why don’t we get something to eat before I take you home? I wouldn’t want to drop you off so upset. Your parents might think I did something to you.”
“They wouldn’t do that,” she told him.
“Well, you can save me from going home to ramen noodles.”
She laughed, and her hands relaxed in her lap. “You know you love them.” She saw the sign for the restaurant and sighed. “But it would be nice. Danki.”
When they had settled into a booth and gotten their menus, John began wondering if he’d been rash to suggest having a meal together. They’d come here several times before he left home. And it seemed like there were so many couples seated around them. A server was walking around lighting little lanterns on each table as the supper hour drew near. She lit the one on their table and walked on. The flickering light from it seemed to make the atmosphere cozier, more intimate.
John watched the way Rose Anna’s skin glowed in the light as she studied her menu, her eyes downcast. Sometimes he forgot just how lovely she was, her complexion so pure, her lips a natural tint like her first name.
“They haven’t changed the menu since we’ve been here,” she said and looked up. Her eyes sparkled. “No ramen noodles.”
He chuckled. “Not exactly an Amish specialty.”
They ordered, and as they enjoyed their supper, he watched the last of her nerves vanish and the bubbly Rose Anna emerge.
She told him a story about the first day she’d taught quilting at the shelter after Kate had called her a master quilter and how she kept showing how to do it wrong. He told her one about being careless and approaching Midnight from the wrong end and being embarrassed about his horse-tending skills in front of his new boss.
“Lucky for me Neil understood I hadn’t been around horses in a while,” he said as he pushed his empty plate aside. “He told me nearly being kicked wasn’t a lesson I’d forget anytime soon.”
“Kate told me I showed the ladies that no one is perfect and we’re supposed to be having fun,” she told him. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told them that a seam ripper will be their favorite tool.”
He knew the one she meant. After all, his mother was a quilter and a seamstress. Too bad people couldn’t go back, rip out the part of their life that hadn’t gone as planned, and redo it, he couldn’t help thinking.
Their server wheeled a wooden dessert cart over. “Hope you saved room for dessert,” she said cheerfully. “No one can resist our homemade pies—especially the shoofly pie and the Dutch apple pie.”
John chose the Dutch apple. He’d never been able to resist pie.
And as he watched Rose Anna lean over and study the cart with wide eyes, he felt something turn over in his heart and realized he’d never be able to resist her again either.
***
Rose Anna watched John drive away.
They’d had a wonderful afternoon. At least she had. Nee, she could tell he’d enjoyed himself, too. But then, as they drove home he’d been so quiet. And he’d given her a long, serious look when she thanked him, her hand on the door handle.
She sat down in a rocking chair on the front porch and watched the tail lights of his truck until they vanished from view.
The front door opened. Her mother peered out. “I thought I heard someone in the drive. Are you coming in? It’s chilly out.”
Rose Anna rose and followed her inside. They stopped when they saw Jacob snoozing in his recliner, a book open on his chest. Her mudder grinned at her and put a finger to her lips, silently telling her to be quiet. They tiptoed past.
“Why were you sitting on the porch?” Linda asked when they got to the kitchen. “Is anything wrong?”
She shook her head as she unbuttoned her coat. “Nee. We went for a drive and stopped for supper.”
“How’s John?”
“Gut. He likes his part-time job helping at the horse farm.”
“I see. Tea?”
“That would be nice.” She hung up her coat then sat at the table and watched her mudder put the teakettle on to heat. “He likes it a lot.”
Linda sat at the table. “I see.”
“I’m worried about John. He said he’s found what he really wants to do with his life.” She rested her chin in her hand, her elbow on the table. “How’s he going to do that when he hasn’t got any money?”
“God works in mysterious ways.”
The teakettle whistled. Linda rose, poured hot water into two mugs, and set them on the table.
Rose Anna chose a tea bag from the bowl on the table, unwrapped it, and dunked it into the water. “His ways are certainly a mystery to me sometimes.”
“Think about David and Sam.”
“What about them?”
“Neither of them thought they would ever own farms.”
Rose Anna brightened. “And now they both do.” She sat there stirring her tea, thinking about that.
“Ya.” Linda sipped her tea. “I always loved what Phoebe used to say about worry.”
“ ‘Worry is arrogant. God knows what He’s doing.’ ”
She smiled. “Exactly.” She sighed. “I miss her.”
“We all do. Mamm, when is Grossdaadi coming home?”
“Next week.”
“I miss him.”
“I do, too. But he’s having such fun in Pinecraft. I’m glad his friends talked him into going.”
Friends. She and John had talked about friends.
Linda covered a yawn with her hand. “I think I’m ready for bed.” She rose, washed her mug, and set it in the drainer. “Guess I’ll go wake up your dat so he can go to bed.”
“He’ll say he wasn’t sleeping—that he was just resting his eyes.”
She laughed. “I know. And that he’s not really tired.”
“Men are so silly sometimes.”
“True.” She bent and kissed Rose Anna’s cheek. “See you in the morning.”
Rose Anna was washing her own mug when her dat walked into the kitchen a few minutes later. He looked rumpled and sleepy as he kissed her cheek and said good night.
She watched them walk, arm in arm, toward the stairs to the bedrooms. Her romantic heart yearned for that closeness with a mann one day. Sighing, she checked to see if anything else needed to be done in the kitchen, but it was spotless. She turned off the gas lamp and climbed the stairs to her room.
The next morning, Rose Anna walked into the quilting class at the shelter and found Kate and several women gathered around a weeping Brooke.
“Why do men have to be such jerks?” she demanded, taking a tissue from one of them and wiping tears from her face.
Shocked at the unexpected storm of emotion, Rose Anna’s steps faltered. She saw Kate sitting next to Brooke quietly talking to her, so she continued on to the front of the class to set her things down and take off her coat.
Brooke’s outburst was such a surprise. She didn’t say much in class—to the other women or to Kate.
“Why does everything have to change for me, and Robert gets to live in our house and have his life go on like nothing happened?” she heard Brooke wail. “That house is mine, too! All the time I was putting my life in danger in Afghanistan he was sitting there not working, living on my pay.”
“It’s not right that all of us had to leave to be safe,” Salina, one of the newer shelter residents, said.
“My counselor says it’s the victim that always has to be the one who changes,” Millie chimed in.
“You need to give your lawyer another call and see what he’s doing to boot the guy out,” Jane told her.
“I know it seems really unfair,” Kate said. “But every one of you took a very big, very brave step when you left. You could have stayed, continued to take the abuse. But you said enough. That doesn’t make you victims in my eyes.”
Rose Anna could see that Kate’s words were sinking in. Several of the women got quiet, looked thoughtful. They began drifting back to their seats at tables and picking up their sewing. Kate continued to talk quietly to Brooke who appeared to be calming. She didn’t see King today and wondered why the dog wasn’t with Brooke. Maybe he could have calmed her.
She walked over and greeted each of the women and those who began filtering into the room.
“What block are we working on this week?” Salina asked, her face alive with enthusiasm.
Rose Anna had almost forgotten in all the excitement. “I’ll get it,” she said and quickly retrieved the plastic bin from the shelves on the wall. She passed them out to those who wanted to work on them and went back to the front of the room to explain how to sew them.
Soon the room became its usual hive of activity, alive with happy voices and whirring sounds from the many sewing machines.
Kate joined her at the front table and sat to take out her own work in progress.
“Is Brooke feeling better?” she asked quietly.
“Much. Thanks for getting everyone back on track.”
“All I did was get out this week’s block. Salina asked me about it, and I realized it was time to start the class.”
“Staying wi
th the routine is important.” Kate threaded a needle. “These women have had nothing but disruption for months, sometimes years, trying to cope with their situations. They’ve lived with men whose mood changed from one moment to the next, lived with insecurity and instability. This place and this class gives them a chance not just for safety but for getting centered again.”
Rose Anna had heard that term before. She supposed she’d always taken being centered for granted having been taught that her faith was her center, the foundation for her life. And not for the first time she said a silent prayer of gratitude that she had grown up loved and made to feel secure not just by her family but by her community.
“You‘re quiet this morning,” Kate noted.
“I was just thinking how lucky I’ve been to grow up without what some women have had to experience. But lucky’s not the right word.” She searched for the right one.
Kate smiled. “I know what you mean.”
“What about you?” she ventured cautiously. They’d become friends through the class, but she really didn’t know much about Kate. “What kind of family did you have?”
“My dad was a police officer and my mother was a stay-at-home mom who went to college when my older brother and I started school. We were pretty average. My parents are coming up on their fortieth anniversary soon. I have to say he did a good job not bringing the stress of the job home. I hope I do half as good.” She paused in her stitching. “Some cops don’t handle it well, and they become abusers.”
She looked up and smiled. Rose Anna followed the direction of her glance and saw that Brooke was still sitting at her machine and, even better, had a much happier expression on her face.
Salina stood and looked anxiously around the room.
Kate got up and walked over. “Problem?”
“Where’s Lannie? Have you seen Lannie? She was just here by my side a minute ago.”
Every woman in the room immediately began looking around them. Rose Anna did the same, and then out of the corner of her eye caught the twitch of movement in the curtains on the window at her side. Tiny bare toes peeked out from beneath them.
Rose Anna motioned to Kate who caught her signal and immediately walked over.
“I wonder where Lannie could be,” Kate said loudly. “I’ll have to use my superior detective skills to find her.”
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