An Amish Picnic

by Amy Clipston

  Lean and muscular arms from his work building cabinets and houses. At least, she’d heard he built houses, but maybe they were more like cabins. She hadn’t seen one herself, though she’d heard other people talking about them. Yes, David could be considered quite the catch despite his usually somber mood.

  Too bad for her the one time she went out with him had been the most embarrassing night of her life.

  “Why are you frowning at me like that?”

  “You scared a year off my life. I forgot you were here.”

  “My presence means that much to you?” He raised his eyebrows.

  Again with the teasing. She closed her eyes and prayed for patience. She’d known David nearly all her life, though he’d moved away for a few years and had only recently moved back. She was not going to allow herself to be swayed by his charm. The first and only time she’d done that had not ended well.

  They both turned in a circle.

  “He probably has a hiding spot in here.” David pushed at a pile of leaves with his foot.

  “But where? I can barely see.”

  Only the dimmest light pierced through the canopy of vines. It was hard to believe a beautiful spring day in northern Indiana was waiting just outside the kudzu.

  David dropped the backpack he’d been carrying, unzipped the outer pocket, and pulled out a small flashlight.

  “You’re like an Amish Boy Scout.”

  He held the light under his chin and made a ghoulish face, causing Faith to laugh in spite of herself. He definitely acted more comfortable in one-on-one situations. In a group, he was always the quiet guy standing off to the side.

  A dog’s whine brought her back to the task at hand.

  She straightened her glasses. “Let’s find him and get out of here.”

  They began to search the perimeter as David played the beam of the flashlight along the ground. They’d made a complete circle once and were attempting a second when Faith touched his arm to stop him from moving the light.

  “There.”

  Before he could answer she dashed forward and dropped to her knees. The puppy was curled up on a bed of leaves, its brindle coat blending in almost perfectly.

  “Don’t let him bite you.”

  “I’ve worked with enough animals to know an aggressive one when I see it. This little girl is not a biter.”

  She scooted closer and slowly held out her hand. The dog was some sort of beagle mix. Her long tan ears brushed the ground. Her coat was short and even. In the dimness of the flashlight’s beam, she could see the changes from tan to brown to black. The puppy raised her dark brown eyes to meet Faith’s, then tentatively nosed forward and licked her hand.

  In that moment, the aggravation of having to spend a Saturday afternoon chaperoning youngies with David fell away.

  Caring for animals was Faith’s calling.

  “The poor thing is severely undernourished.” She stroked the puppy’s head and ears, earning the animal’s trust, then felt gently around its paw. “There’s a piece of glass in her front left paw.”

  “Are you going to take it out here?”

  “Already done.” She stood, holding the offending shard, and dropped it into David’s outstretched hand.

  “Now what?”

  “Now we take her home.” Without waiting for him to protest, which she anticipated because David was practical above all else, she untied and removed her apron, scooped up the puppy, and wrapped her in it.

  “Is she cold?”

  “Bleeding.”

  “It’ll ruin your apron.”

  “Aprons wash, David.”

  She turned to push her way back out of the vines but couldn’t find the spot where they’d entered. David stood behind her, apparently amused by her confusion.

  “There are lots of myths about kudzu,” he said. “Some say there are beds of snakes inside.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Others say it can take over a city in a matter of weeks . . . cover it completely as if the buildings were never there.”

  “Sounds more like a modern fairy tale to me.”

  “Kudzu is most prevalent in the southern states. Parents tell children if they’re bad, the kudzu vines will come through their windows and wrap them in a cocoon at night.”

  “What a terrible thing to tell a child.” She turned on him then, intent on reprimanding him, but for once, he was smiling broadly. “Can you just . . . get us out of here?”

  The puppy’s nose was stuck in the crook of her arm. Faith didn’t think she was bleeding badly, but she wanted to clean and disinfect the wound and then give her a good meal and some clean water.

  David led her across the dirt clearing to the opposite side. How had she become so turned around? He was searching for the way they’d come in when his flashlight landed on a package—a small box wrapped in old butcher paper and covered in tape.

  Now how had they missed that before? But then, Faith’s attention had been on locating the dog, and it was a relatively small package. The question was—what was it doing hidden beneath the kudzu?

  * * *

  David had been focused on finding the way out. The sooner this afternoon ended the better. It seemed that whenever he volunteered to chaperone, he was inevitably paired with Faith. He couldn’t fathom why they kept being thrown together like this. If he didn’t know better, he’d think their bishop did it on purpose. Perhaps Bishop Alton was trying his hand at matchmaking. If so, David should tell the man about their terrible first date and how the few times he had tried to apologize, he’d lost his courage.

  It didn’t help that Faith often seemed prickly, and he reverted to acting like a nineteen-year-old.

  Faith Troyer looked exactly as she had five years earlier. She wasn’t overly heavy, but neither was she rail thin like many girls sought to be nowadays. Her brown hair had a slight curl. Although she seemed determined to corral it under her kapp, strands always broke free, framing her face softly and giving him an irrational urge to reach forward and tug on one to see if it would bounce.

  She’d worn glasses since he’d known her, and they gave her a thoughtful look. Today she wore bright blue frames that must be new. Last time he saw her at a church meeting they were black. Why was he thinking about how pretty Faith looked in blue-framed glasses?

  David wanted to date, but now wasn’t a good time. He spent nearly every waking hour working. He’d been back in Indiana less than a year and was attempting to start a small construction business. His life was going well, and he was finally starting to earn a reputation for himself as a skilled businessman. Now wasn’t the time to chase after a woman, especially one who was so obviously not interested in being chased.

  Yet here he was. On a picnic.

  Each time he volunteered with the group he felt awkward, since he was twenty-seven and most of the youngies were between seventeen and twenty. He felt like an old man around them, and he didn’t much like that image of himself. After each outing, he promised himself he wasn’t going to volunteer next time, but then a month later he’d find himself herding a large group of youngies through a park or around an ice rink or on a fishing trip. Most of their activities were outside, even in winter. The cold and snow and wind didn’t seem to bother the young folks. But David no longer had an urge to skate around a pond or play volleyball in the park.

  Perhaps that had less to do with his age and more to do with his disposition.

  Before he could begin to brood over his personality flaws, Faith stepped closer to him and stared down at the package.

  “What’s in it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Maybe we should leave it.”

  “Looks like it’s been here a long time.” He picked up the box and tucked it under his arm. “Maybe we can return it to its rightful owner.”

  “Maybe the same person is missing a dog.” She looked at him then and smiled—the old smile he knew from their school days. It reminded him how comfortable he’d felt around her the
n, before they tried dating, before he’d done whatever he did to create a chasm between them. Well, he knew what he’d done. What he didn’t know was how to fix it.

  Looking at her now, he had the sudden urge to kiss her, which made no sense. No two people were more ill-suited than them. Before he did something he would surely regret, the feeling passed.

  Faith studied the dog in her arms and said, “We should go.”

  He found their entry point, and when they stepped out into the sunshine, she took a deep breath. Did the enclosed space inside the vines spark the claustrophobia she’d exhibited several years ago? He hadn’t thought of it sooner, but he should have. It was rather obvious—a confined area of any sort would feel the same to Faith. Or perhaps she’d outgrown her fear of enclosed spaces.

  They traipsed back toward the group and had barely stepped off the trail when they were surrounded by girls asking where Faith found the dog and boys asking if they’d managed to get lost.

  But they weren’t boys and girls, he realized.

  They were men and women, and they were trying to find their way in a world where it was increasingly difficult to remain Plain. Or so it seemed to David. He’d spoken to their bishop about it once, and Alton assured him that being separate, being simple, being focused on Gotte’s wille had always been difficult. It didn’t become less so with the advent of computers and smartphones.

  “Thought maybe you two had decided to walk home.” David hadn’t noticed Jacob walk over and stand beside him. He was probably David’s best friend, though he was several years younger. They both worked at the RV factory when they were younger. Now Jacob worked his father’s farm, and David built custom cabinets and tiny homes for Englischers.

  “Faith saw the little dog dart into some kudzu vines and was intent on saving it.”

  “Kudzu? Here?”

  “Down the trail about a hundred yards, on the east side.”

  “Doesn’t usually grow this far north.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “I’ve been down this trail dozens of times, and I’ve never noticed it before.” Jacob stuck his thumbs under his suspenders, a sign that he was trying to figure something out.

  “I read once that it can grow a foot a day, so maybe it wasn’t here last time you walked the trail.”

  “Another mystery of life.”

  “I suppose.”

  “You’ll have to show me sometime, but not today. Hey, what’s in the package?”

  “Don’t know. We found it on the ground.”

  “Too many riddles for one afternoon. We still have ice cream on the agenda, and loading everyone into the buggies will be like . . .”

  “Herding cats. Ya, I know.”

  Jacob grinned and walked over to Sarah King. He whispered something in her ear, she blushed prettily, and then they were walking away toward the buggies.

  The rest of the group was moving toward the parking area when he noticed Faith walking off alone toward her buggy. He hurried to catch up with her.

  “Don’t tell me you’re skipping the best part of the afternoon.”

  “I need to get this little girl fixed up.”

  He opened the door to her buggy, and she climbed inside, still carefully holding the dog.

  After she settled the beagle on the seat next to her, she turned her attention back to David. “What are you going to do about the package?”

  “Huh? Oh . . .” He’d forgotten he was holding it. Now that they were out in the daylight, he could see that the handwriting on the outside was long faded. “I’m not sure.”

  “How long do you think it was in there?”

  “A long time, I would guess. Maybe years.”

  “Are you going to open it?”

  “Might have to, if we hope to find out who it belongs to.”

  “Sounds like you have a mystery on your hands then.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that. If there was one thing he didn’t have time for, it was a mystery. And yet, looking at the concerned pout on Faith’s face, he found himself offering to help her with the dog.

  “If you want to make flyers to look for the dog’s owner, I’d be happy to help distribute them.”

  She looked at him in surprise.

  He had to admit, Faith brought out a different side of his personality. Being around her made him want to make things right between them. Or maybe he was simply looking for an excuse to spend more time with her. Could he still be attracted to Faith Troyer?

  “Danki. More than likely she was dumped, but I’d feel better at least trying to locate an owner. I’ll make some flyers at work on Monday.”

  “I have a job out that way next week. I’ll stop by on Monday and pick them up.”

  “And the box?” She nodded toward the package he was still holding as if it were a snake about to strike.

  “I’ll bring it with me. We’ll open it together.”

  “Ahh . . . dragging me into your mystery?” She laughed when she said it, though she didn’t look directly at him.

  The shy Faith was back, but that wasn’t quite right. She wasn’t shy around their elders or the youngies—only around him. She murmured to her mare, and the horse pulled off. David stood there a minute, watching her, and then Jacob called out that he better hurry up, and he realized the rest of the group was still waiting.

  At the moment, though, ice cream was the last thing on his mind.

  Chapter 2

  David hurried through his work on Monday so he would be sure to catch Faith at the vet clinic before she left. Doc England catered to the Amish, so his facility tended to hold more horses, donkeys, and cows than cats or dogs. David wasn’t surprised when he found Faith caring for the animals in the outdoor pens, the small beagle dogging her every step.

  “Someone looks quite attached to you.”

  “She’ll make a gut work dog.” She continued walking down the aisle of horse stalls, dumping oats into buckets, pausing to speak to each animal.

  Faith was in her element here. The tightness was gone from her shoulders, she had a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and pieces of hay clung to her dress. David had always thought she was nice looking, but seeing her here at work, comfortable and relaxed, caused him to study her more closely.

  She was more than okay looking. She was actually quite beautiful. The thought popped into his mind, and he nearly tripped over a bucket sitting outside a stall.

  “Careful.”

  “Yup.”

  “Any luck with the package?”

  “I haven’t opened it yet. I said I’d wait for you, remember? Since we found it together.”

  Faith pushed up her glasses. “Yes, but I’m a little surprised you were able to wait. Your curiosity didn’t get the better of you?”

  “Honestly, I left it in my buggy and forgot about it until I headed over here.”

  “Men are so different from women.”

  “In a good way?”

  “In some way.”

  She was watching him closely, and he didn’t know if he should cross his arms or let them fall to his sides. Hoping to get her attention off himself, he changed the subject.

  “Any word on the dog’s owner?”

  “I spoke with someone at the Goshen animal shelter, and she said an entire litter of beagle pups was found in a cardboard box not far from where we parked on the Pumpkinvine Trail.”

  “So she’s not lost?”

  “Pebbles was dumped, as I feared.”

  “You’ve named her?”

  “Pets need names.”

  “Will you take her to the shelter?”

  “Nein. We could use a dog around here.”

  Faith had walked into a horse stall with a beautiful roan mare. David crossed his arms over the half-door and watched as she checked a bandage on the horse’s front left leg.

  The clinic seemed to be doing good business. The parking lot was always full, the waiting room had been expanded recently, and Doc England was in the process of building new pen
s on the west side of his property.

  Pebbles plopped on the ground in the corner of the stall and watched Faith.

  “That’s the excuse you’re telling yourself? You could use a dog around here? Looks to me like you have enough animals to care for.”

  “Many clinics have a cat or dog . . . or both . . . that are house pets. They serve to calm down visiting animals.”

  “Uh-huh. In other words, the pup has claimed your heart.”

  “That too.” She glanced at David quickly, then returned her attention to the mare. He felt a strange sensation he didn’t quite understand. Before he could puzzle it out, Faith marched on to the next stall.

  “I brought the package. It’s out in my buggy.”

  “That really wasn’t necessary. I don’t mind if you solve the mystery on your own.”

  “You just admitted that you wouldn’t be able to wait to open it, so I know you’re curious.”

  She ducked, her kapp strings falling forward, and he wasn’t sure if he’d irritated her or made her laugh. When she finally looked his way again, she was shaking her head no but smiling yes. Why did women do that? Did they even realize how confusing it was? Or was there some secret code he simply didn’t understand? Had he fallen asleep in class when they taught how to understand women and feel comfortable around them?

  “I’m almost done here. If you can wait, I’ll meet you out front in fifteen minutes.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  It was her way of dismissing him, but he didn’t mind—at least she hadn’t sent him on his way. What was it about human nature that made a person interested in someone who didn’t seem to return that interest? If she’d been leaving him phone messages at the shack near his place—as several local women had done—then surely he wouldn’t have bothered to answer because he wasn’t that interested in romance at this point in his life. He had a growing business and a place to stay with his bruder. Why mess up a good thing?

  But there was something different about Faith. She was like a magnet he couldn’t resist. It wasn’t simply the challenge of dating someone who was disinterested, it was needing to understand why he had this flurry of feelings when he was around her.