Amish Sweethearts

by Leslie Gould

  Lila took her little sister’s hand and pulled her forward. “Tell her your name.”

  “Trudy Lehman,” she answered.

  “I’m pleased to meet you,” the woman said. “I’m Elizabeth Yoder. But please call me Beth.”

  Trudy nodded.

  “We’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Lila said. “I’m Trudy’s sister. Her other sister, Rose, sometimes brings her and picks her up. And our Dat too.”

  “Excellent,” Beth said. “I look forward to meeting the whole family.”

  “I have two brothers too,” Trudy said. For a moment Lila feared she was going to tell Beth that Simon had joined the Army, but Trudy stopped.

  A flash of concern passed through Beth’s eyes, as if she just realized that Trudy didn’t have a mother. “I have two brothers also,” Beth said. “But I bet mine are quite a bit older than yours.”

  That made Trudy smile.

  Beth met Lila’s gaze. “Come in anytime you want. Before school, after school, the middle of the day. You’re always welcome.”

  “Denki,” Lila responded and then bent down and kissed Trudy’s cheek. “See you after school.” She headed out the door and then hurried down the steps. She liked Beth. A lot. It would be good for Trudy to have an older teacher—to have someone around the age Mamm would have been if she’d lived.

  8

  Zane stopped on the sidewalk outside one of the gyms, dreading going in. The Texas sun warmed his face. He turned toward it. It was the middle of January and the forecast was for a high of seventy.

  Fort Hood stretched out in front of him. He’d never get used to how flat and brown the landscape was. Like the dry back of a Texas rattlesnake. True, way off in the distance along the horizon were some hills, but they were just as brown. He slipped his cap from his head, shoving it into the side pocket of his uniform as he pushed through the doors into the cavern-like warehouse. Zane’s unit and scores of others had to update their paperwork, make sure their vaccines were current, and that all their legal documents were in order before deploying. Squinting, he scanned the signs around the room, found the one for vaccinations, and stopped at the end of the line.

  A half hour later, he stepped out of line to try to gauge how much time he had until he reached the front. He’d hardly made any progress. At this rate, it would take all day to check on his shots.

  “Hurry up and wait, huh?” Casey said as she bumped into him.

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  She’d pulled her dark hair into a bun at the nape of her neck, the exact same way Lila wore hers—minus the white Kapp. Casey’s camouflage cap was neatly folded and slipped into the side pocket of her pants. Just like his. And her neat-as-a-pin jacket was buttoned over her brown Army T-shirt. Camouflage looked good on her. Better than it did on him. She embraced the Army more wholly than anyone he knew.

  His first day back from home, she’d said how much she missed him and hinted at an interest in a closer relationship. He’d quickly said that he was very thankful for her friendship, emphasizing the word. He’d been relieved she’d only hinted and then dropped it. He didn’t want to lose her as a friend.

  “How many shots do you have to get?” she asked.

  “I think I’m all caught up.” He grimaced. “I hope.” But he needed to have his paperwork rechecked and approved.

  “What are you up to tonight? Reading?” She teased him a lot about how much he read.

  He shrugged.

  “Want to come out with us? We only have another week until we’ll all be forced to become teetotalers.” It was another thing she liked to tease him about. That he didn’t drink.

  He shrugged a second time.

  “Seriously, Zane. You should work on shedding your holier-than-thou rep before we deploy.” She was serious. “You’re not endearing yourself to the other guys.”

  He met her eyes. “Thanks for your concern. I get it. But I’m not going to go to a strip club with them in the name of bonding.”

  She rolled her eyes. “We’re not going to a strip place—I promise. Just one of the local dives. We’ll play some pool. It will be fun.”

  “One problem,” he said. “I’m not twenty-one.”

  She shook her head. “Right. And you’re probably the only twenty-year-old on base without a fake ID.”

  “Was the Army supposed to issue me one?” He smiled. “Because if they were, someone dropped the ball.”

  “Stop it,” she said. Casey had just turned twenty-one, but he was pretty sure she’d had a fake ID before that. “Maybe we could all meet at someone’s house. Would you come then?”

  “Probably.” He saw her point about bonding. He did get a weird vibe that some of his team had a problem with him.

  His phone buzzed in his jacket pocket, but he ignored it.

  “Go ahead,” Casey teased. “I don’t mind. I’d do the same to you.”

  It was a photo from Simon, showing a close-up of his shooting range target—his bull’s-eye was practically a black hole. Zane frowned. Simon had been texting him constantly since he got his new phone. Another buzz and a photo of an evergreen tree covered with snow came through.

  A pang of homesickness shot through Zane.

  “Gonna share?” Casey teased.

  He turned the phone toward her, to show her the tree, just as the phone buzzed again.

  “Ooh-la-la. This could explain a lot.” She laughed.

  “A tree?” He turned the phone back toward himself. A profile of Lila was on the screen. She was hanging sheets and clearly didn’t know Simon had taken a photo. She had on her heavy coat and a stocking cap on her head. A long blond strand of hair hung down around her face. She wore gloves with the fingers cut out and was pinning a sheet.

  “Who is that?” Casey asked.

  He clicked his phone off.

  “Zane,” she teased, “who’s the girl?”

  “No one,” he answered, stepping out of line again. He’d learned not to react to others in the Army. To play it cool. But he didn’t want to share anything about Lila with Casey—or anyone else in the Army.

  At least Lila wasn’t visibly Amish in the photo, thanks to her stocking cap. He couldn’t imagine Casey’s teasing otherwise. Still, it was obvious there was something different about her. She was hanging wash on the line in January for one thing.

  His phone buzzed again.

  Casey stared for a moment and then grinned at him.

  He sighed.

  Another photo. But this time Lila knew Simon was taking her photo, and she was mad. Her blue eyes were wide and so was her mouth. His heart contracted, against his will.

  “Gonna share?” Casey stepped to his side.

  He clicked the phone off and slipped the phone into his pocket. “Not this one.” He sent a silent thanks to Simon. The guy was crazy. Shame on him for taking Lila’s picture, but still Zane was grateful for an image of her he could take with him.

  Zane changed the subject. “So what else do you still have to do?”

  “Write my what-if-I’m-killed letter,” she said with a groan.

  Zane needed to do that too. Some units waited until they were in-country, but they were required to do it before they left. He wouldn’t write much, just how much he loved his parents and Adam. In his opinion, it was a macabre task they were forced to do. No one wanted to think about dying before they’d even left the States.

  “So are your parents coming for our send-off?” she asked.

  “Yep,” Zane said. “How about yours?”

  “Nah,” she answered. “They’re on Maui for a month, looking for a house to buy. I told them not to bother.”

  Zane frowned. “And they listened to you?”

  She shrugged. “It’s not like anything’s going to happen.” Her gaze drifted away, and then she waved.

  Another soldier from their unit, Grant, approached, holding his file, along with his sidekick, Wade.

  Grant would be in charge of communications while they were in the f
ield and was a solid, handsome guy with an alpha attitude. Wade, on the other hand, was a born follower. As far as looks he could be Grant’s brother—both had dark hair, buff physiques from working out every day, and movie-star smiles—but Wade trailed Grant around like a puppy dog. Ironically, he was one of the intelligence specialists in the unit. He’d be tracking relationships between villagers and looking for informants.

  “Are we on for tonight?” Grant asked Casey. Zane knew Grant had a wife and kid. He couldn’t imagine wanting to leave them for an evening when they were so close to deploying.

  She nodded and then said, “Could we all meet at your place?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Probably . . . I’ll send you a text.”

  “Great,” Casey said. Then she added, “Zane’s gonna come.”

  “You’re kidding?” Grant slapped Zane on the back. “I thought you were too good for us.”

  Wade nodded in agreement.

  Zane laughed and shook his head. “Just too young.”

  “Seems he didn’t get his government-issued fake ID when he joined the Army,” Casey joked.

  “It’s not too late,” Grant said. “I have connections, . . .”

  “Thanks,” Zane said and then muttered under his breath, “but no thanks.”

  The sun was setting as Zane stopped his truck in front of the house and double-checked the numbers. The place was small but tidy. The lawn, green and mowed. Red, white, and purple petunias bloomed in pots on either side of the door. It was hard to imagine Grant taking the time to do the yard work.

  He pulled out his phone and looked at the photos of Lila one more time. He couldn’t help but laugh at the one of her mad. He’d definitely seen that look before; the last time was the night before he joined the Army.

  Casey pulled behind him in her Jeep. It was the right house. He grabbed his water bottle—hoping no one would expect him to drink if he had something in his hand—and jumped down, stuffing his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. It wasn’t that he was against drinking, theoretically. But he didn’t want to, not when he was underage. Plus he’d heard too many stupid stories about soldiers drinking together.

  He’d make an appearance to try to connect with others on the team. That was all.

  “Howdy,” he said to Casey as she climbed out of her car.

  She smiled. “Glad you came. Grant bet me fifty bucks you wouldn’t show up.” Her hair hung halfway down her back, and she wore a tank top, shorts, and flip-flops. Her pink toenails sparkled. “How about some help?” She nodded to the back of her rig.

  He followed. She lifted the hatchback and nodded at the case of beer. Next to it was a jumbo bag of tortilla chips and a rectangular container.

  “I didn’t bring anything,” Zane said.

  “Don’t worry about it. You’re with me.” She smiled again. She smelled good, like lilacs or something, maybe. He’d bought Lila some lilac hand lotion one Christmas. He grabbed the beer and followed Casey into the house.

  Grant’s wife was named Donna. She seemed pleasant enough but not exactly happy to see all of them. She had a toddler on her hip, and it looked as if maybe she was expecting another baby. Zane didn’t say anything though. He’d hate to be wrong.

  He held the case of beer under his arm and his water bottle in his hand and reached out his other hand to shake hers. When he tousled the baby’s hair, both the little boy and his mother smiled.

  “Can’t believe you came,” Grant said to Zane and then frowned. Zane hoped Casey wouldn’t make him pay. He motioned toward the beer. “Put that in the kitchen.”

  A couple of the other guys from his unit, including Wade, and one of the gals had already arrived and were playing Grant’s Xbox. They barely glanced up as Zane followed Casey into the kitchen. The floor plan of the house was open, with a straight view from the living room into the kitchen.

  Zane opened the fridge. There was another case of beer in it but not much food. A plastic gallon of milk with a couple of inches left, three jars of baby food, some grapes, and a bunch of condiments.

  Casey took the lid off her container. It was one of those layered dips, like his mom made sometimes. He’d eaten before he came, expecting there wouldn’t be much food, but the dip looked good.

  He took a sip from his water bottle. “I see you brought your own,” Grant said.

  Zane held up the water bottle. “I guess you could say that.”

  Grant’s wife came into the kitchen, put the baby in the high chair, and took one of the jars of baby food from the fridge.

  Casey stepped to the woman’s side as she sat down in front of the baby and started feeding him.

  “Will you stay on base while we’re gone?” Casey asked.

  Donna nodded. “My family’s back in Michigan. But there’s no place for us to stay there. My mom has a little apartment and my dad’s living up by the border, out in the woods.”

  Grant drifted into the living room, a beer in his hand, and collapsed onto the couch.

  “How old is your little one?” Zane asked Donna.

  “Fourteen months. He’s about done with baby food. I just give it to him at night now—helps him sleep better.”

  “Hey, babe,” Grant yelled from the other room. “Could you bring us those chips? And dip?”

  She shook her head but stood and handed Casey the jar. As Donna grabbed the chips and dip from the counter, Casey gave Zane a look of panic. Once Donna was out of the kitchen, she turned to Zane. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Hold it,” he said with a laugh, but the baby started to cry.

  “Here,” he said, taking the jar from Casey and sitting down in the chair. He used to love feeding Adam when he was a baby. He dipped the spoon in the jar—definitely squash—and flew it around for a moment. The little boy stopped fussing and followed the spoon with his eyes. “Here it comes,” Zane announced.

  The baby opened his mouth, took the bite, and smiled.

  “Where’d you learn that?” Casey asked.

  Zane shrugged and loaded the spoon.

  “You have all sorts of secrets, Zane Beck.” She stood behind him. He wished she hadn’t worn the lilac fragrance.

  Before he knew what was going on, Casey had slipped his phone from his pocket.

  “Hey,” he said, keeping his cool. The phone was locked. She couldn’t see anything. He kept on feeding the baby.

  “Don’t you lock your phone?”

  Had he not locked it before he shoved it into his pocket? Still he didn’t react. But he did say, “Don’t you mind your own business?”

  “There’s the photo I was looking for,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about it all day.” She paused a moment and then laughed. “There’s another one.”

  Zane winced, feeling as if he’d just betrayed Lila.

  Casey stepped to his side. “Who is she?”

  He didn’t make eye contact as he slid another spoonful of food into the baby’s mouth. “A neighbor, from back home.”

  “It’s from a ‘Simon.’”

  Zane shook his head. “That’s her brother. He was obviously tormenting her.” Casey just didn’t know how badly, since Lila probably had never had her photo taken before.

  Zane ignored the footsteps coming into the kitchen. “Look, he’s good with kids too,” Grant said in a sarcastic voice.

  Zane kept feeding the baby.

  “What do you have?” Grant asked Casey. “Zane’s phone?” Excitement filled his voice. “Did you find something incriminating?”

  Casey shook her head. “Of course not.”

  “Let me see.” As Grant snatched the phone from her hand, Casey gave Zane a panicked look.

  He shrugged and kept feeding the baby. There was nothing to be done. Grant zipped through the photos. Zane didn’t have many on his phone. A few of Adam. One of his parents with his grandfather. One of the old fort down by the creek, from when he was in high school.

  “Get a life, Beck,” Grant said as his wife came back i
nto the kitchen.

  Grant must have backtracked to the photos of Lila because his wife said, “She’s Amish, isn’t she?”

  “Amish?” Casey met his gaze. “But she doesn’t have a bonnet on.”

  “It’s cold out,” Grant’s wife said. “That’s why she has a stocking cap on. But who else would hang sheets on a line in the snow?”

  Casey stepped closer to the phone and looked again. “Is she?”

  “Yep,” Zane said, scooping out the rest of the baby food. “All my neighbors back home are Amish. Could I have my phone back, please?”

  Casey took the phone and slipped it back into his back pocket, pushing a little too hard.

  “Wow, no wonder you’re so weird,” Grant said. “You have an Amish girlfriend.”

  His wife punched his arm as she said, “Knock it off.”

  “Hey, guys . . .” Grant called out as he headed back into the living room.

  “Sorry.” Casey seemed genuinely regretful. “Is she your girlfriend?”

  Zane kept his voice even. “No. They’re pacifists.” Nonresistant, the correct term, wasn’t a word most people understood. Pacifists didn’t believe war was justified. Nonresistant meant not fighting back or resisting authority at all—not even if it was justified. “And I’m in the U.S. Army, right?”

  Casey nodded, but she had a puzzled look on her face.

  “She was never my girlfriend.” Not technically anyway. “We were friends.”

  “But not anymore?” Casey asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened?”

  Zane shrugged. “We grew up.”

  “I lived close to an Amish settlement back home,” Donna said. “They kept to themselves, but they were good people.”

  “Yep, they are.” Zane stood and put the jar and spoon on the counter by the sink. “Your baby is a lot of fun.”

  “Thanks. He’ll become a big brother while you’re all over there.” She wiped the baby’s mouth with his bib, lifted him from the high chair, and patted her belly. “I’m due in July.”

  She wasn’t as far along as he’d expected. “Congratulations,” Zane said.