by Mary Davis
Today, she wasn’t here to tend to any wounds he might incur. She had slipped away while he was gone. He’d become complacent because she’d been helping him the past two days. He should have insisted she come to the doctor’s with them. He’d forgotten she was different from other Amish girls. Not content to stay around the farm. She had a restlessness about her. What was it that caused her to feel the need to always wander off?
He’d already trekked out to the pond in case she had simply gone there as she said she often did, but she was nowhere in sight. Though he hadn’t really expected to find her there, disappointment that she wasn’t had stabbed at him. He would have to wait until she returned, and then he would keep an even closer eye on her from now on. He shouldn’t allow himself to get tangled up with thoughts of her. Thoughts that would likely lead to heartbreak again.
When he returned inside to the buggy, Jacob was leaning against it. “You are a difficult man to track down.”
Amos looked back toward the door opening. None of the Millers were around to take notice of his cousin.
Jacob pushed away from the buggy. “I made sure I wasn’t seen.”
That was a relief. “It’s gut to see you. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you. You weren’t easy to find. I was on the road near your family’s farm every day for nearly a week and didn’t see you once. Then I remembered where you said you were working. Are you staying here?”
“Ja. Bartholomew broke his leg. I’m helping out on his farm while he’s laid up. It’s fairly light work, being winter. I did replace his rotting hayloft floor.” He pointed above him. “That’s how he injured himself.”
“You appear to be enjoying yourself.”
“The work is gut.” And he slept like a contented man because of it.
Jacob’s mouth hitched up on one side. “Or is it because you have your eye on one of his daughters? Are you looking for a frau while you’re here?”
Part of Amos was looking for an Amish frau. Was it because he wanted one? Or because it was expected of him? Or because he wanted to believe a gut Amish woman could fall in love with him? On the other hand, Jacob was here to help Amos leave the Amish. Amos wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore. “Ne. I don’t think I’m ready to marry yet.” He needed to figure out where he belonged first. Here, in his plain world, which might include Deborah, or out there, in the fancy one without her.
“Do you still want to leave?”
“Ja. I think I do.”
Jacob pulled a cell phone and cord from his jacket pocket. “Then I brought this for you. Have you used one before?”
Amos nodded. “On Rumspringa.” He hesitated before taking the forbidden device. This was a step down a path away from Deborah.
“Make sure to keep it charged. I’ll text you with a meeting time and place. I’ve put it on Silent, so you’ll need to check it each day for messages and text back that you received it. I’ll contact you with a time and place for next week. Will you still be here or at your parents’ farm?”
“Here.” Amos shifted his gaze from the phone to his cousin. “But I don’t know if next week will work. Bartholomew still needs my help.”
“He wouldn’t have any trouble finding someone else. Maybe even one of your brothers.”
Jacob was right, but Amos didn’t want anyone else taking his place here. This was his place. At least for the time being. “I made a promise to him.” When he was no longer needed here, it would be easier to leave. Being on the Millers’ farm had already been a small step in breaking ties with his family.
Jacob studied him for a moment. “Do you truly want to leave?”
“Ja, ja. I do.” No sense in getting even more attached to this family.
His cousin narrowed his eyes. “All right. I’ll be in touch to see how things are going.” He shuffled his feet. “How are my mutter and vater and my brothers and sisters?”
“They are doing well. They miss you.”
Jacob laughed. “I know they didn’t say that. That would be frowned upon.”
“I can tell by their guarded speech when they talk about their children and their worried expressions. And you are prayed for at church.” When Amos left, he would be included in the unnamed lost members who left the Amish faith, along with Jacob, the bishop’s granddaughter and a few others.
Amos walked Jacob to the barn door opening and peered out into the yard to make sure no one was there. The pair stepped outside. He wished his cousin farewell and watched him until he made it to the road.
Rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, he tried to sort out his thoughts. It would be easier to break ties with his community when he wasn’t needed here. But for now, he was needed. He returned to the barn to finish greasing the buggy wheel.
“Who was that Englisher?”
He looked up and saw Deborah strolled toward him.
“Who?”
“The man who just left.”
Should he make up a story, tell her the Englisher was lost and had asked for directions?
“He’s the same man you spoke with at the hospital, isn’t he?”
She’d seen him then? He’d thought he’d sneaked away unnoticed. Now she would think less of him. He decided to go with the truth. “That was Jacob. My cousin.”
“Oh. Is he still on Rumspringa?”
“Ne.”
Her big, beautiful green eyes widened. “He left the church?”
“Six months ago.”
“What was he doing here?”
“Asking about his family.”
“But he turned his back on them when he left.”
“He still cares about them. Just because someone leaves doesn’t mean they no longer believe in Gott.”
“Is he going to come back?”
“I doubt it.” He didn’t want to talk about his cousin anymore. “When your parents and I came back from the doctor’s, you were gone. Where did you go?”
Her eyes widened again, and she looked away. “For a walk. I went to the—”
“Don’t say the pond, because I checked there.”
She gave him a steady stare. “Well, I did go there first. Then I walked farther. As my family says—” she put on a silly expression “—I’m fanciful with my head full of daydreams and nonsense.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t nearly as out of touch with things as you would like your family to believe. I believe you’re quite smart and intuitive.”
Her facade changed to a mix of shock and...pleasure? “You think I’m...smart?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You seem smart to me and quite capable.”
She straightened and stood a little taller.
But before she could distract him further, he said, “I told you that you need to tell me where you’re going.”
She gave him a tight smile. “You weren’t here.” She turned toward the buggy. “You want me to help you with finishing up?” She was changing the subject.
He should press the issue, but he didn’t want to argue with her, didn’t want to scare her away. He wanted things to be pleasant between them. “I would like that. Next time, tell someone where you’re going. I know you don’t understand or believe it, but I do feel responsible for everyone here while your vater is recuperating.”
“But you’re not. I can take care of myself.”
“Sometimes your family may not notice you, but I do.”
She gifted him with a sweet smile that made his brain a little fuzzy.
Chapter Five
Deborah sat at the kitchen table almost a week and a half later, poking her finger into a flat of potting soil and dropping in vegetable seeds. It would give their kitchen garden a head start. Lots of celery for the impending weddings this fall.
Amos had planted himself firmly in her mind with his declaration that he n
oticed her. Though his attention to her whereabouts hampered her ability to escape when she needed to leave, it was nice to have someone aware of her. What kind of an excuse could she give to go outside to see him, if only for a minute or two?
Hannah strolled in. “Mutter needs thread.”
Deborah’s ears perked up. “Is she going to Sister Bethany’s Fabric Shoppe again?”
Hannah shook her head. “She wants to stay with Vater. Lydia, would you mind going for her?”
“I’ll go.” Deborah jumped to her feet and brushed dirt from her hands. She had missed out on a trip to the fabric shop the last time, and Mutter had forgotten to get her fabric for a quilt. Thanks to her modeling job, Deborah had money to buy her own fabric.
Lydia smiled. “That settles it. Deborah and I will go.”
Sarah jumped up and down. “I wanna go. I wanna go.”
Lydia pulled a stiff smile and tilted her head. Her sister didn’t like to make waves. Deborah could tell she was trying to decide whom she was going to disappoint. Deborah or Sarah. Lydia was a peacekeeper.
Deborah took the decision out of her hands. She put her hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “We would love for you to come with us.”
Lydia gave her an appreciative smile.
Sarah was most generally always a joy to be around, more so than Naomi. Why couldn’t Naomi just be nice to her? Deborah had never done anything to her. Maybe she would be better when she grew up a little more.
“I’ll get my shopping bag, and then I’ll go see about hitching up the buggy.” Deborah ran upstairs and grabbed some of her money she had tucked away and her canvas shopping tote. When she came back down, she swung on her coat.
“Danki, Deborah,” Lydia said. “I’ll get Sarah ready.”
“It’s not a problem.” She headed to the barn.
Amos was there, working diligently. Today, mucking out a stall. Deborah never saw him slacking off in his duties. He was always doing something. Sissy, one of their barn cats, watched his every move.
“You are such a gut Amish.”
He faced her with a smile, and her heart soared. “You are gut, too.”
“I’m not all that gut.” If he knew about her secret life, he wouldn’t say such things.
He leaned on the shovel handle. “Did you need me for something?”
“Ne. I’m just getting the buggy ready. Lydia, Sarah and I are going to Sister Bethany’s Fabric Shoppe.”
“I’ll help you.”
“You don’t have to.” But she hoped he did.
“I want to. I’m done here.” He pushed the full wheelbarrow out of the way. “I’ll get the harness. Would you get Floyd from his stall?”
“Sure.”
Floyd was a large gray-and-black draft horse. A gentle giant. He greeted her with a nicker and tucked his head over her shoulder, pulling her close for a hug.
She wrapped her arms around his beefy neck. “I’m glad to see you, too.”
“He really likes you.”
Deborah turned.
Amos stood with his arms folded, his hip leaning against the stall frame and a crooked smile on his face. “I’ve never seen a horse so friendly before.”
“Floyd has been in our family for a long time. I believe he’s special.”
With the bridge of his nose, the large draft horse nudged her back, which was equivalent to someone shoving her quite forcefully. Deborah careened forward several steps to try to keep her balance. But it wasn’t going to do any gut. Momentum and gravity were going to land her face-first on the ground.
Amos jumped forward and caught her in his arms, keeping her from landing in a heap in the straw. “Whoa.”
The silly horse did that on purpose. But why?
She stared up at Amos.
And stared.
And stared.
Did he realize he was holding her? She should back away, but truthfully, her knees had lost their ability to hold her up.
This needed to stop happening—standing so close to him and gazing at him like he could ever mean anything to her. And touching. Ja, always innocently, but nevertheless, touching.
He’d come with intentions toward her sister Miriam. Hadn’t he? But he never spent any time with her, and Miriam never manipulated events to be near him. She seemed content to wait for him to come to her. Maybe Deborah could help them. That thought caused a dull ache to form in her chest.
She kept staring.
But he was staring, too.
She cleared her throat and forced strength back into her jellied legs. “I’ll lead Floyd out.”
He cleared his throat, too. “Ja, right. I have the harness ready.” He released her and backed away, then turned and disappeared.
She spun back to the gray-and-black draft horse, shook her finger at him and spoke in a low voice. “You did that on purpose. Behave yourself.”
The big ol’ lug whinnied, bobbing his head up and down.
“Are you laughing at me?”
The horse bobbed his head again.
She grabbed his rope from the wall, then tossed the loop over his head and around his neck. “You need to learn some manners.”
The big draft horse hooked his chin over her shoulder and pulled her in for another hug.
Poor thing thought she was mad at him. “I forgive you. But if you do it again...I won’t mind.” She led him out to where Amos stood between the buggy shafts. She maneuvered Floyd around and backed him into place. Whether hitching up a horse or rebuilding a hayloft floor, being near Amos made her insides dance.
Soon the buggy was ready, and Lydia and Sarah came out to where the buggy was parked in front of the house.
Sarah let go of Lydia’s hand, ran to Amos and threw her arms around his waist. “Amos!”
He patted her on the back. “Gut to see you, Sarah.”
Lydia touched Sarah on the shoulder. “Leave Amos alone.”
Sarah stepped backward and latched onto his hand.
“Sarah, what were you told about running up to people and hugging them?”
“But I know him. He’s not a stranger.” She pulled him toward the buggy. “You coming with us.”
Lydia put her hands on her hips. “Sarah, let him go.”
Sarah’s bottom lip pushed out as she released him, and she plopped down on the ground. “I want Amos to come with us!”
Deborah did, too, but couldn’t say so. Please let Sarah get her way.
This was typical behavior for Sarah. She loved everyone and thought of everyone as her friend. When she got scolded, she often threw a tantrum.
Amos knelt in front of her. “I would love to go with you, but you need to ask nicely, ja?”
His patience with her Down syndrome sister warmed Deborah’s heart.
“You come with us...please?”
“It would be my pleasure.” When Sarah tilted her head, he added, “Ja, I will go.”
He was going! Deborah’s heart skipped a beat.
Sarah jumped to her feet and pulled him toward the buggy door. She climbed in the front. Assuming Amos would drive, that left the back for Deborah and Lydia. Though disappointed at first, it did afford her the vantage point of watching his profile as he drove without it being awkward or anyone noticing what she was doing.
Amos looked back over his shoulder. “Are you two doing all right back there?”
She and Lydia nodded.
Soon they arrived at Sister Bethany’s Fabric Shoppe, a small building to the side of the main house on Bethany and her sister’s parents’ property. Deborah and her two sisters piled out, and Amos took care of Floyd and the buggy.
Lydia stopped Sarah on the porch. “Remember not to touch everything. If you want to look at something, ask me first.”
Sarah nodded briskly, and they all went inside.
; Besides fabric and sewing notions, Bethany and her sister Rosemary had finished quilts for sale, completed clothes, wooden toys, Amish dolls with clothes and a small variety of jarred canned goods and cooking utensils. A little bit of everything, most of it made by people in their district.
Deborah headed straight for the solid colored fabrics. Bethany and Rosemary had fabric already cut in common lengths. It was time Deborah had a new dress, as well as started a quilt for when she got married—if she got married. What color would Amos like? She chose a pink fabric for a nice spring dress and various other colors for a quilt.
Sarah tugged on Deborah’s arm.
“What is it, sweetie?”
“Deborah.” Sarah pushed an Amish romance novel into her stomach. “Deborah.”
Deborah had forgotten about the Amish novels the sisters carried in the store. Though Deborah already had one checked out from the library that she was reading, she took Sarah’s offering anyway. “Danki.” Amish Identity by Mary Rosenberg. At least the model on the cover was dressed accurately. She’d seen books where the model actually had the cape dress on backward. This one looked very authentic. In fact, she had a dress this same col—Deborah gasped. She was the model on the book’s cover!
At the very first photo shoot she’d stumbled upon, Hudson had said he would create book covers with her image. She just never imagined her picture would ever make the cover of any book. Ever! But here she was. Fortunately, it didn’t expose her full face. She’d been too shy in the beginning to look at the camera. But the side view of her looking down at a black-eyed Susan was still unmistakably her.
“Deborah,” Sarah said again.
Her baby sister wasn’t just calling her name, she’d recognized her on the cover.
“Shh.” Deborah put her finger to her lips.
Purchased books were often passed around the community. Not this one. Deborah stuffed it into her shopping bag. Then she hurried to the shelf of books and thumbed through the others. Another book by the same author, but no others with Deborah on the cover. She sighed with relief.
Sarah pulled at Deborah’s cloth shopping bag. “Deborah.”