by Amy Clipston
“Stop what?”
She turned to see Ira dashing up the porch steps. He was soaking wet. He stood at the end of the top step, water streaming down his face, his clothes plastered against him, her pole in his hands. Oh boy. No, not a boy. Definitely a man. She bit the inside of her cheek and tried not to pay attention to that fact. Instead she focused on his expression, a mix of confusion and concern. She was too surprised to flee inside. “What are you doing here?”
He leaned the pole against the porch rail, and then he took a step toward her, water puddling around his black tennis shoes. “Nina,” he said, wiping the rainwater off his face, his expression growing stern. “It’s time you told me what’s going on.”
* * *
The deluge had started as Ira neared Stoll Inn. He ran as fast as he could, but he still got drenched. Fortunately, there hadn’t been any lightning, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t coming. His annoyance at the weather disappeared when he saw Nina jump up from the swing. When he heard her say “Stop it!” there was no doubt in his mind that something was seriously wrong, and he wasn’t leaving until she explained what it was.
“Ira, I . . .” Her mouth remained open, and then she clamped it shut and looked away from him.
Whatever was bothering her was giving her a lot of trouble, and that made him worry more. He couldn’t help but move closer to her. “Nina, we’ve known each other a long time. We’re gut friends. You can trust me, whatever it is. I won’t break yer confidence, and you know I won’t judge you.”
She didn’t look at him. “But you’ll probably laugh at me.”
He couldn’t stand hearing the pain and embarrassment in her voice. “Nina,” he said softly. Unable to stop himself, he reached over and touched her chin, gently moving her head so she was looking at him. “I would never laugh at you or make fun of you. You should know that by now.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have run off like that. I shouldn’t have brought the picnic.” She audibly gulped. “I’m sorry I ruined yer time with Margaret.”
“You didn’t. And Margaret said she’d gather everything and take it mei haus.” He glanced at the water pouring from the eave. “We would have had to cancel our fishing anyway. It’s raining too hard.”
She looked him up and down and then quickly turned away and headed for the door. “I’ll get you a towel before you catch cold.”
He lightly grabbed her arm. “I won’t catch cold in the middle of summer. Stop dodging me, Nina. I’m not going anywhere until we talk.”
Nina whirled around. “Fine. You want to know what’s wrong? I like you. That’s what’s wrong.”
He frowned. She was making even less sense than before. “I like you too. I thought that was obvious. If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be friends.”
She shook her head, her hands flapping furiously. “That’s not what I’m talking about. Ira, I like you. As in romance. As in wanting to geh out on a date instead of fishing. As in . . .” Her lower lip trembled. “Anyway, that’s what’s wrong with me. And I know I’m ruining everything between us, and I didn’t know you and Margaret were together, and I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” She dashed into the inn, the screen door slamming behind her.
Ira couldn’t move. He tried to process what she’d just said, the last part of the conversation a whirl in his brain. She liked him . . . like, liked him? And what was that about him and Margaret being together? And now she didn’t want to see him anymore? Despite his confusion, that last statement hit him like a ton of bricks. Wait, she was ending their friendship too?
He flung the screen door open and stormed inside. Two older English couples were sitting at one of the tables, playing cards in their hands, all their gazes on him. They must have seen Nina run past them, and now he was standing in the lobby, which doubled as a common room, his clothes dripping wet. In his haste to get to Nina, he’d forgotten this was a place of business, and the people gaping at him were the inn’s guests. “Sorry,” he mumbled, backing out the door.
Ira stood there on the porch, wondering what to do as sheets of rain gushed in front of him. Nina’s house was behind the inn. Should he run over there and try to talk to her again? He doubted she would agree to that. But how was he supposed to leave things the way they were?
After deciding he didn’t have any real choice, he dashed out into the warm rain and went home. He didn’t think it was possible to be more wet, but now he felt like a drowned rat, and he probably looked like one too. He walked into the mudroom, took off his sopping tennis shoes, and left them on the mat. Then he peeled off his shirt and squeezed the water out of it into an old bucket by the door. He’d have to go through the house with wet pants on, but that couldn’t be helped.
When he entered the kitchen, Margaret was sitting at the table, looking at a seed catalog. She glanced up, and her eyes widened. “What happened to you?”
He’d forgotten all about her. Clutching his shirt against him, he shook his head and hurried upstairs to dry off and change clothes.
After he dressed, he sat on the edge of his bed. What was he going to do? Nina had romantic feelings for him. Now her behavior made sense. The way she stared at him last Saturday, the elaborate surprise picnic today . . . Even Margaret had seen it, and she didn’t even know Nina. He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. How could he be such a dummkopf?
A soft knock sounded on his door. “Ira?” Margaret said. “Are you okay?”
He hesitated but then got up from the bed and opened the door. “I’m fine.”
Her pale-blond eyebrows lifted. “You don’t look fine. You also don’t sound fine.” She gestured to the hallway. “Mei mamm always said kaffee and company help soothe anyone’s troubles.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Maybe. Enough that I made kaffee. It’s fresh and hot. I can dish out some of Nina’s peach cobbler too.”
Normally he wouldn’t turn down food, especially peach cobbler, but he didn’t feel right eating Nina’s dessert. “I’ll take the kaffee,” he said.
“You might want to brush yer hair too.” She chuckled. “You look like you got hit by lightning.” She paused. “You didn’t, did you?”
“Nee. At least not the way you think.”
They went downstairs, and Ira sat at the kitchen table while Margaret poured the coffee. “Are you sure you don’t want the cobbler?”
Ira nodded. He stared at the steam rising from his coffee, but he didn’t pick up his mug.
“Did you talk to Nina?” Margaret sat down across from him.
“Ya.”
“I guess it didn’t turn out well.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I’m sorry about that.”
He looked at her. She reminded him of Ivy, and not just because they were both petite. Although there was nearly a decade between him and his oldest sister, he could often talk to her about things, and she had always given good advice. And like Ivy, Margaret wasn’t pressing him for information. She even picked up the seed catalog and started looking at it again, as if nothing was amiss.
“You were right,” he said, placing his hands palms down on the table.
She glanced up at him. “About what?”
“Nina.” He sighed. “I have a big problem, Margaret, and I don’t know what to do.”
Chapter 5
“Nina, you need to eat something.”
Nina lifted her head from her hand and looked at her grandmother. “Nee, I don’t. Mei dresses are getting too tight, remember?” She put her chin back in her hand and stared at the fried chicken. Grossmutter had made extra when she prepared it for the picnic. In fact, the entire supper, except for the peach cobbler, was identical to the picnic lunch. Nina couldn’t bring herself to eat one bite.
“Loren, say something.” Grossmutter gave Nina’s father a pointed look.
He turned to Nina. “If you don’t feel like eating, you don’t have to.”
She managed a small smile. “Danki. May I be
excused?”
He nodded, and as she left, she heard her grandmother sputtering in protest. Selah and Levi had left earlier to have supper at Martha and Seth’s. It was quiet for a Saturday night. The two older couples from West Virginia who were staying at the inn had gone to see a play in Holmes County, based on an Amish novel. They wouldn’t be back until later tonight.
Nina went to her room and plopped onto the bed. Her insides were churning with embarrassment and regret. Why was she always saying and doing the wrong things? She thought about a verse in the Bible from the book of Romans. For that which I do I allow not: for what I would, that do I not; but what I hate, that do I (7:15). It had taken her a long time to understand that verse, which she’d always thought was a bit convoluted. And although she knew Paul was talking about sinning, she couldn’t help but feel this concept somehow applied to her situation. Why had she proceeded with something she initially thought was a bad idea? Why did she tell Ira her feelings when she knew it would ruin their friendship permanently?
But she couldn’t stop herself from telling him the truth. He wouldn’t leave until she did, and it wasn’t fair to leave him confused about her weird behavior. And now their friendship was over. It had to be. She’d ended it by telling him they couldn’t see each other anymore. He probably not only thought she was seltsam but that she was a jerk too.
She buried her head in her pillow. Birch Creek had so many single men. Why did she have to fall for Ira?
“Nina?”
At the sound of her grandmother’s voice, she lifted her head. She wanted to ignore her, but she could tell from Grossmutter’s tone that she was worried about her. “I’m okay,” she said, not moving from the bed.
“May I come in?”
Knowing that her grandmother was the most stubborn person who ever existed and would never leave until Nina let her inside her room, she replied. “Ya.”
The door opened, and Grossmutter came in with hesitant steps instead of her usual confident stride. Her hands clasped in front of her, she came partway into the room and stopped. “I didn’t mean to upset you at supper,” she said. “Yer daed was right. You’re a grown woman, and if you don’t want to eat, you don’t have to.”
“It wouldn’t hurt me to skip a few meals,” Nina muttered, remembering Margaret’s slim figure. So that was Ira’s type. Petite, slim, with a pretty face and wonderful skin. Everything Nina didn’t have. Nina had never stood a chance.
Grossmutter sat down beside her. She rubbed Nina’s back like she had when Nina was a little girl. Her mother died when she was young, and Grossmutter had taken care of her and Levi and their father ever since. And while she could be meddlesome, overbearing, and a bit too outspoken, Nina loved her. Tears slipped from her eyes as she felt the comfort of her grandmother’s touch.
“Did the picnic really geh that badly?”
Nina nodded. “Worse than you can imagine.”
Grossmutter patted her back. “I know this is hard on you, but at least you know. Now you can turn yer attention to someone else.”
Angry, Nina popped up straight. “I can’t turn mei feelings off like that. I care for Ira. I . . .” She looked at her lap. “I love him.”
“Oh, lieb.” Grossmutter took her in her arms. “I was afraid of that. It hurts, and it’s going to hurt for a long time. But I promise, God will heal yer broken heart.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
Her grandmother smoothed Nina’s brow with her finger. “Did I ever tell you about Cornelius King?”
Nina moved out of her embrace and looked at her. “Cornelius?”
“Not exactly an Amish name, but his father had some sort of distant relative with that name, and Corny was stuck with it.”
If she hadn’t felt so horrible, Nina would have laughed. “Good grief. Corny is worse.”
“I don’t know.” Her grandmother’s eyes turned wistful. “I thought it was cute.”
“Was Corny yer first love?”
“He was. And much like you and Ira, we were gut friends. We didn’t geh fishing, of course.” Grossmutter made a sour face. “You know I detest worms. But we both liked to whittle.”
“Whittle?” Nina was surprised. “I didn’t know you whittled.”
“Oh, I haven’t for a long time. I enjoyed it when I was younger, but I’ve never had the urge to pick it up again.” She smiled. “Corny and I would sit on my front porch, sometimes his, and spend an afternoon or summer evening whittling away and talking. He was handsome, kind, and a very gut whittler. I also thought he was perfect for me.”
“But he didn’t feel the same way.”
“Nee. He didn’t. And in the end, he was right. We wouldn’t have worked out. I met yer grossvatter two years later, and we married a year after that.”
“What happened to Corny?”
“He left the Amish. He hadn’t been baptized yet, and the last I heard he’d married an English woman and moved to Minnesota.” She tapped her chin. “Or was it to Montana?” She shrugged. “I can’t remember.”
Nina looked down at her lap. “That’s a gut story,” she said. “But it doesn’t make me feel any better. I can’t imagine loving anyone but Ira.”
“You can’t imagine it”—she took Nina’s hand—“but maybe God isn’t finished with you and Ira yet. What seems impossible can be possible with God.”
“And what if it’s truly impossible for me and Ira to be together? What if it’s God’s will that we geh our separate ways?” Just thinking about that made her heart break all over again.
“‘He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.’” Her brown eyes turned soft. “Whatever happens, Nina, God understands yer pain, and He’s there to heal you.”
“Like He did when Grossvatter died?” Nina’s eyes welled. “And when Mamm died?”
Grossmutter’s eyes filled too. “Ya,” she said. “We don’t forget the people we loved who died or the ones we loved and didn’t love us the same way, but over time, it doesn’t hurt as much. The same will happen with you about Ira, the way it did for me about Corny. God has someone in mind for you.”
“How can you be so sure? Maybe I’m meant to be single mei whole life.” Right now, that sounded like a preferable alternative.
“I just know.” She tapped her chest. “In here. And if I’m wrong, God will ensure you’re contented—whatever the circumstances.”
Nina considered her words. She’d always wanted to ask her grandmother a question, and now seemed the right time to pose it. “Did you ever want to marry again?”
Grossmutter paused, running her hands over the quilt on Nina’s bed. “Only if God brought the right mann into mei life, and so far, that hasn’t happened. Meanwhile, I’ve been able to take care of you and our little family. That’s been enough for me.” She squeezed her hand and then stood. “If you decide you’re hungry, let me know. I wrapped a plate for you.”
“Danki,” Nina said. Then she got up and hugged her grandmother tight. “For everything.”
“I love you,” Grossmutter whispered. “You’re special. Don’t ever forget that.”
Nina nodded as her grandmother left. It would be considered prideful to think she was special, and Grossmutter didn’t give compliments easily. But Nina had needed to hear those words right now. She wiped her eyes, feeling a little better. Her heart still hurt, but she had hope. Not about Ira. Not even about love. But she knew God would heal her heart eventually. She could count on that.
Chapter 6
On Wednesday evening of the following week, Nina was in the living room, working on her new purple dress. When she’d tried it on, she’d noticed the hem was crooked and puckered. She frowned.
Her grandmother had come down with a headache and was lying down, and her father was at the inn with Levi and Selah, who were discussing an upcoming English wedding, their first one booked. Nina was glad they weren’t involving her in the preparations. She was content with them telling her what they wanted her to do.
>
For the past few days, Nina had kept busy helping Grossmammi cook and can and making her new dresses. She detested sewing, but it was time she stopped complaining about what she didn’t like to do and just do it. She’d made three of them—this mauve-purple one and a dusty-blue one and a light-green one. Her cleaning job at the inn had also kept her busy. They were even booked until September now, which made Levi and her father especially happy.
She hadn’t talked to Ira since the ill-fated picnic last Saturday, and she’d avoided him at church on Sunday. That was where she’d learned Margaret was his cousin, making her feel like an even bigger fool.
She’d have to face Ira eventually. She couldn’t avoid him in their small district forever. But as long as she could put off that moment, she would.
Yet she was still thinking about him. She believed what her grandmother told her about God healing her heart, but that didn’t keep her mind off Ira.
She was halfway finished with the hem when she heard a knock on the door. Frowning again, she stood. They weren’t expecting anyone as far as she knew, but then again, none of them minded a little company. As long as it’s not Ira. Nina grimaced. She was sure she didn’t have to worry about that.
“Hello,” Margaret said when Nina opened the door.
Nina gaped. Margaret was the last person she’d expected to see on her doorstep. “Uh, hi.”
“Do you mind if I come in? I’d like to talk to you.”
Dumbfounded, Nina nodded and let Margaret inside. She noticed that even the woman’s steps were delicate and graceful, and she felt like an awkward clod next to her. Still, she wouldn’t be rude, especially to someone who didn’t deserve it. And maybe if she pretended her behavior at the pond hadn’t been awkward and strange, Margaret would too.
“May I get you something to drink?”
“Nee, I won’t be here very long.” She sat down on the couch, and a slight frown came over her face.