by Amy Clipston
* * *
Nina slowly headed for the pond the next day. More than once she’d turned around to go home. After all, she should be working at the inn on a Tuesday afternoon. Even now, as she approached the woods that surrounded the pond, she was unsure of her decision to come. Having confidence in her own judgment had been a problem lately. But even though she was tempted to run away again, this time her heart had the final say.
She remembered how Ira had looked at her yesterday, in a way that had made her pulse hum and her mouth feel like cotton. He’d never looked at her that way before, and more than once she thought she’d imagined it. She must have imagined it. But had she imagined him wiping away her tears too? Or what he said when he left? I’ll be waiting for you. All day and night if I have to. No, she hadn’t imagined that.
But she’d come for another reason. She couldn’t keep their relationship hanging. That wasn’t fair to either of them, so she wanted to settle things between them—whatever the outcome.
Nina halted her steps, putting her hand over her heart to steady its beat. She whispered a prayer, asking for the courage not to run away again. She wasn’t a little girl, and she was tired of being a coward. Whatever Ira wanted to tell her today, she would handle it—with God’s help. She put her trust in that fact.
Taking a deep breath, she went through the copse of trees to the clearing with the pond. When she stepped onto the open grass, her jaw dropped. Ira was already there, with a picnic spread on the ground in front of him. She saw her grandmother’s picnic basket, the quilt, the dishes she’d used—everything she’d brought for her own ill-fated picnic. She’d forgotten about leaving them behind. Selah must have also forgotten to get them, and Grossmutter must have meant her promise not to interfere—not even by retrieving everything from the Yoder home herself.
Ira was adjusting the quilt when he saw Nina. He stood and gazed at her, not moving. Then he ran his palm over his dark-blue broadfall pants. “You made it.”
She nodded and then looked at the picnic spread again. “What is this?”
“A repayment.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Well, not exactly. More like a rain check.” He gestured to the food. “I hope you’re hungry.”
Nina hadn’t had an appetite that morning, enough that she’d skipped breakfast. But now that she looked at all the dishes laden with food, she was suddenly starving. She walked toward him and sat down on an empty space on the quilt. He sat down across from her.
“Let’s pray,” he said.
They bowed their heads, but Nina could barely concentrate on saying grace. When she opened her eyes, she still couldn’t believe what was in front of her.
“We have ham sandwiches,” he said, pointing to the plate to one side, “and bread and butter pickles, homemade potato chips, some macaroni salad—”
“But you prefer coleslaw,” she said softly.
He looked at her. “You remembered that.”
“Ya.”
“And you knew I like peach cobbler.” He unveiled a covered dish and exposed a bowl of pineapple fluff.
She lifted her brow in surprise. “Mei favorite.”
“I pay attention, too, you know.”
She hadn’t known, and it touched her. But she was also confused. “Ira, I don’t understand.”
Instead of responding, he took a plate and filled it with food before handing it to her. “Why don’t we eat before we talk. It’s a beautiful day. Let’s enjoy it.” Then he piled food onto his own plate.
Nina took a small bite of the sandwich and somehow managed to relax a little as she ate. Unlike the day she’d brought her picnic, the sky was cloudless, the sun was bright, and the air was dry and not too hot. Around them birds chirped, the water glistened, and the sun’s rays warmed her skin. Ira was right. It was a perfect day, and the tranquility she’d always felt at the pond slowly returned.
When they finished eating, Ira faced her, his legs crossed. “I’m glad you came, Nina.”
“I am too.” She stared at her dress. She wore the green one today. “I’m sorry,” she said, unable to look at him. “I never meant to make things strange between us.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he said, “I didn’t mean to upset you the night of the singing.”
She lifted her gaze. “I know. There’s nix between me and Zeb, by the way.”
“Just like there’s nix between me and Margaret.” He winked.
Nina laughed. “I should hope not, since she’s yer cousin.” Her smile dimmed. “I jumped to a huge conclusion, didn’t I?”
“I understand why you did.” He set down his plate and looked directly at her. “For the record, Nina, I’m not seeing anyone. The only woman in mei life is you.”
For a split second her heart leapt with hope, but then she reined it in. His words could be taken to mean friendship, not romance. Still, she was unsure how to respond, and she grabbed a slice of pickle, crammed it into her mouth . . . and then started to choke.
“Nina?” Ira scrambled across the quilt and started slapping her on the back. “Are you okay?”
She coughed, and a piece of the pickle flew out of her mouth. She gasped for air, and he handed her a glass of lemonade. She gulped it down, and then made a face. Lemonade and pickles did not go together. Then she saw the mess in front of her. Ira had barreled through the food, and it was strewn everywhere. When she turned to him, he had pineapple fluff on the front of his light-blue shirt. Unable to help herself, she started to laugh.
He joined her, his hand still on her back. “Whew,” he said when he stopped laughing. “I’m glad you’re okay. You worried me for a sec.”
“I’m fine. But look at the food.” She pointed at the fluff. “And look at yer shirt.”
Ira glanced down, and then he picked up a napkin and wiped off the mess before staring at the wrecked food in front of them. “Picnic number two down the tubes.” Then he turned his head and gazed into her eyes. “Guess we’ll have to try this again.”
She stilled as he took her hand. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said.” He looked down at their linked hands. “You threw me for a loop when you told me you liked me.”
“I’m sorry I did that.” When she started to look down, he took her chin in his hand and tilted her gaze to his.
“Don’t be. I’m glad you said something. I was worried about you. You were acting so strangely. Then when you said you, uh, liked me, things started making a little more sense.” His cheeks reddened, but he didn’t look away. “I value our friendship, Nina. I don’t want to lose that.”
“I don’t either.” The spark of hope that Ira might feel for her what she felt for him died. But she realized she’d rather have his friendship than nothing at all. She would deal with her feelings, in time. But she didn’t want to push him away again.
“And I don’t want to give up our fishing together,” he told her.
She nodded. “Agreed.”
“So now that we’re straight on that, we just have one more thing to discuss.”
“What?”
He leaned forward until only inches separated them. “When we’re going out on our first date.”
Nina froze. “Excuse me?” she blurted, sure she must have heard him wrong.
“A date?” He pointed to her and then to himself. “You. Me. Nee fishing poles.” He glanced at the food. “And probably nee picnics, at least for a little while. We seem to have bad luck with those.”
She gaped at him, still trying to comprehend what he was saying. “You want to geh out on a date. With me.”
Ira smiled. “Ya, Nina,” he said softly. “With you.”
If a heart could do backflips, hers would be flipping out. Happiness soared within her, only to come to a grinding halt when reality set in. “You don’t have to do this, Ira,” she said. At his questioning look, she added, “You don’t have to pretend to like me because I like you. We can still be friends and geh fishing together.”
“You think th
at’s what this is about?” Ira shook his head. “Nina, I’m not pretending. I admit I’m a little late here, but I realized something at the singing. No, it was before that, when you said you didn’t want to see me anymore.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his neck. “I don’t want to be without you, Nina. And that has nothing to do with fishing or friendship. It has everything to do with this.” He leaned forward and kissed her, at first hesitantly but then taking her in his arms.
When he pulled away, she could barely breathe. His arms were at her waist now, and the look in his eyes said her size didn’t bother him. Not one bit.
“What do you say, Nina? Will you geh out on a date with me?”
“Hold on.” She gave herself a pinch on the arm.
“What did you do that for?” he asked, looking confused.
“Just making sure I’m not dreaming.” She grinned. “Ya, Ira. I would love to geh out with you.”
“Exactly what I was hoping you would say.” He took her back in his arms and kissed her again.
I’m definitely not dreaming.
Epilogue
Fourteen months later
Nina unpacked the picnic basket she’d brought while Ira set the creel in the water and laid their poles on the bank next to a Styrofoam container with bait. The fall air wasn’t too crisp, but it wouldn’t be long before cold weather arrived. Then they’d have to put their fishing—and their picnics—on hiatus. But for now, they’d enjoy a nice lunch on their quilt and, hopefully, have a successful afternoon of fishing.
Ira walked over and slipped off his shoes before lowering himself to the quilt. “What are we having today?”
“Sardines.”
“What? Ew.”
She laughed and pulled out a container of fried chicken. “Yer favorite, of course.” She handed the container to him.
He opened it and sniffed, and then he grinned. “I knew I married you for a reason. Well, for many reasons.”
She smiled back, her heart filled with love. Their first date was followed by several more, turning their friendship into a strong, loving relationship. Three months later Ira proposed, and they’d married last November. His beard, which had grown in fast, was already past his chin but neatly kept. He was still so handsome and kind that sometimes Nina could hardly believe he was hers.
After she finished unpacking the basket—a wedding gift from Grossmutter—Ira took her hand, and they silently said grace. Then after they ate, they fished for the rest of the afternoon. A little before suppertime, they packed up everything and headed back to their house, just finished the week before, across the street from his family’s farm.
“Just a minute,” he said as she started to lift the quilt to fold it. When she turned, he put his strong arms around her waist and kissed her longingly.
As they parted, she smiled. “I’ll miss our fishing picnics when it gets too cold.”
He brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. “We might not be able to fish, but we can still have picnics. There’s plenty of room in front of the woodstove in our living room.”
“An indoor picnic?”
“Why not? We can make it just as romantic there as we do here.” He drew her close. “Even more so,” he whispered.
She leaned into his embrace and put her arms around him. God had healed her heart in the most unexpected way—by making Ira her husband. And she was grateful to them both.
Acknowledgments
As always, a big thank you to my editors Becky Monds and Jean Bloom for their expertise and encouragement while writing this story. And thank you, dear reader, for coming along on another journey with the residents of Birch Creek.
Discussion Questions
Nina experiences the pain of unrequited love. Has there ever been a time when you or someone you know has gone through the same thing? How did they feel?
Do you agree with Selah about Nina being straight-forward with Ira about her feelings for him? Why or why not?
Do you think Nina and Ira would have gotten together if Delilah and Selah hadn’t interfered?
Delilah points out that God will heal Nina of her broken heart if she and Ira aren’t meant to be together. Was there ever a time when God healed you from disappointment?
Picnics and Prospects
Vannetta Chapman
For Dorothy Hollister
I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
Psalm 121:1–2
March comes in like a lion,
and goes out like a lamb.
English proverb
Chapter 1
Late March
Northern Indiana
Faith craned her head back and stared up at the massive vines that had climbed to a height of at least twenty feet.
“What’s holding it up?”
“Hard to know.” David stepped closer and inspected the bright green leaves.
“Doesn’t look like it belongs here.”
“Kudzu usually doesn’t grow this far north.”
“I’ve never seen it on the Pumpkinvine Trail before.”
Instead of answering, he shrugged. It was one of his habits that irked Faith. When he had nothing to say, he said nothing. David Lapp did not mind uncomfortable pauses.
This resulted in Faith suffering increasing pressure to hold up both ends of the conversation. If only she could be home with her cat and her books and her knitting instead of standing around chaperoning a group of twenty energetic youngies. She wasn’t an introvert, exactly, but as the age difference grew between her and the young unmarried members of their district, she felt increasingly out of place. Still, they were in sore need of chaperones, and it seemed right to volunteer.
They’d had a tradition in their community for many years to hold outings for the young men and women who had yet to find their special someone. Those dating or even thinking about dating had a chance to spend time with others their age away from family life and farm chores. Being in a group was sometimes less intimidating, especially for the shy among them.
Ages ranged from seventeen to twenty-four. None of the youngies had reached Faith’s ripe old age of twenty-five, and David was even older. Which explained why they were chaperones. When had they become the oldest in the group?
Today’s excursion was a spring picnic followed by a long walk down the Pumpkinvine Trail. She’d seen a small pup limping along the trail in front of them. Before she could catch up with it, the tiny guy had dashed into the brush lining the trail. Faith stared up at the trees completely covered with kudzu. The mass of green vines towered above them, stretching at least ten feet along the trail, and looked quite thick.
“You’re sure you saw a dog run in there?”
“Ya, though I don’t see how. It looks fairly impenetrable.”
“Kudzu can be dense, but there’s always a way in or through . . . if you’re brave enough to attempt it.”
Now he was teasing her. At least Faith thought he was. She found it hard to tell because his tone remained the same and he continued studying the vines quite seriously.
She might have walked away then.
She didn’t doubt where the little pup had darted, but more than likely it continued out the other side and was long gone. The poor thing had been limping badly, which was what caught her attention in the first place. Her nature would not allow her to abandon an injured animal.
“Second thoughts?” David was looking at her.
“Nein, it’s only . . . I’m not sure he’s still—”
She was interrupted by a pitiful whine, so quiet she might have imagined it if she hadn’t seen the look of surprise on David’s face.
“We’ve found the beast.” David poked at the vines until he found a place that parted. Motioning her toward the opening he muttered, “Ladies first,” followed even more softly by, “Watch out for snakes.”
Faith didn’t both
er answering that. She had no intention of stepping on a snake, and fortunately they were rare in northern Indiana. Not that she feared them—snakes and spiders didn’t cause her to hesitate. That was reserved for the constant worry in the back of her mind that she’d have a panic attack, but the vines couldn’t be that thick. And besides . . . the pup needed her.
Ducking, she pushed through the vines. They were dense and scratchy. She sidestepped a long tendril and pretended she was pushing through the darkness of a midnight emergency with Doc England—the veterinarian she worked for. Why calves and foals and even lambs chose the middle of the night to greet the world, she could never understand.
Emergency births, late night calls, animals in need—she’d dealt with those situations often enough. This was no different. She continued to push her way through the kudzu.
Then the vines were behind her, and she was standing in what reminded her of a cave. The kudzu grew up and around the area, muting the afternoon sunlight. Her pulse jumped and her palms began to sweat, but she took a deep breath and reminded herself she was saving an animal. Plus, as she looked around, she noticed the space was actually quite roomy underneath.
David let out a low whistle, causing her to jump and then look back at him accusingly.
“What?” His eyebrows rose and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
David was a nice-looking guy, and he was definitely eligible. He’d never been engaged, which was something Faith couldn’t quite figure out. Girls in their community, like in most Amish communities, were always on the lookout for eligible bachelors. It wasn’t like they could resort to online dating if they didn’t find the right match. Faith could see why the younger girls worked so hard to catch his attention.
He was tall but not too tall.
Dark brown hair that hadn’t yet turned gray.
Eyes that reminded her of her morning coffee.