Amish Sweethearts

by Leslie Gould

  “Zane’s going to be all right,” Shani said. It helped to keep saying that. “But he asked us to pray, and to ask all of you too. And for the Afghan family he knows . . .” She could hardly bear to tell Tim the details, but she managed to. That Zane had shot Jaalal’s grandson to keep him from shooting one of the soldiers in the unit, and that the young Afghan man had died.

  Tim shook his head. “What a tragedy, jah?”

  Joel nodded.

  Tim shook his head again. Then he hesitated for a moment and finally he said, “Go on and tell Lila. I don’t want to get the details wrong. I’ll keep the children busy.”

  When they reached the house, Tim opened the door and called out, “Trudy and Adam, come with me out to the barn. I have something to show you.”

  He sent the children on ahead and then shook Joel’s hand. “All of you will be in my prayers.”

  Lila stepped onto the mud porch, wiping her hands on her apron. Her usually stoic expression had turned to panic. “Zane was injured?”

  “He’ll be all right,” Joel said.

  Lila motioned them in and then to sit at the table. Rose stepped from the living room to the kitchen. By the time Shani finished telling about the conversations with Zane and Casey, and Joel explained what he surmised about the situation, Lila had tears streaming down her cheeks. She stood, grabbed a clean dish towel, and wiped her face with it.

  “We really do think he’ll be okay,” Shani said.

  Lila whispered, “Excuse me,” and headed toward the hallway.

  Shani stood, thinking she’d follow Lila, but Rose stopped her. “She’s all out of sorts lately.”

  “What’s going on?” Shani asked. Usually it was Rose who was out of sorts. Not Lila.

  “She broke up with Reuben. Dat’s afraid she’ll leave the church. She’s been really moody.” Rose leaned closer and spoke softly. “Simon thinks she’s in love with Zane.”

  Shani’s head began to swim. “Rose . . .”

  “I think Simon’s right. She and Zane were writing back and forth, but Dat found out and made her quit. She wrote Zane one last time, over two weeks ago, and said she couldn’t write anymore.”

  Shani wondered if he’d received it—maybe not yet. Rose smiled just a little, clearly happy to have the scoop on something. “She broke up with Reuben right after that.”

  “Goodness,” Shani said.

  “This is none of our business,” Joel said, standing.

  Shani stood, too, but then stepped to the hallway and knocked on the door to the girls’ room. “Lila?” She turned the doorknob and pushed just a little. “May I come in?”

  When she didn’t answer, Shani stepped to the bed and sat down beside her, putting her arm around her shoulder. “Rose said that you’d been writing Zane.”

  Lila took a deep breath. “We were but I told him we had to stop.”

  “That’s what Rose said.”

  She turned her face to Shani. “Do you think he got my letter already?”

  “I have no idea. He didn’t say anything about it.”

  “It was harsh—even though I didn’t mean it to be.” Lila leaned against Shani’s shoulder. “I’ve always cared for him.”

  Shani drew the girl close. “And he cares for you too. You’ve been friends for such a long time.”

  Shani knew there was more to this than Lila was willing to say. She knew it from the way Zane had acted the last three years too. Her son loved Lila, and it looked as if she loved him back.

  Shani sat there until she heard Joel’s voice in the hallway saying, “We should go on home and let Tim get his dinner.”

  She squeezed Lila again.

  “I’m sorry,” Lila said. “I should have been the one comforting you.”

  “No,” Shani said. “I’ll let you know when we hear from Zane again.”

  “Denki,” Lila answered.

  Shani forced herself to look Tim in the eye as she told him good-bye. She didn’t want any more conflict with their neighbor. All this time she thought Lila genuinely loved Reuben. But she’d been wrong.

  She couldn’t see any way Lila would leave the Amish—and how could a soldier in the U.S. Army become Plain?

  A week later, on a Friday, Shani spoke with Zane on the phone after he arrived at Walter Reed Medical Center. The CT scan, before Zane left Bagram, had shown the shoulder bone was broken but not shattered. He had been sent on to Landstuhl, where an army surgeon operated on and set his shoulder, but instead of a cast Zane only needed a sling. He’d need to do physical therapy though, which was a relief to Shani. It meant he wouldn’t be going back to Afghanistan anytime soon.

  As soon as she hung up the phone she told Joel, who was working from home that day, trying to catch up without interruptions, and then headed over to the Lehmans’ to tell Lila.

  Rose answered the door and said that Lila was working at the Plain Buffet. Ten minutes later, Shani stepped through the door of the restaurant, inhaling the comforting scent of roast and ham and gravy and stuffing. Lila was holding drinks in each hand when she saw Shani.

  She froze.

  “Everything’s okay,” Shani said as she approached.

  Lila exhaled and then said, “Let me deliver these.”

  When she returned, Shani said, “Zane’s at Walter Reed. We’re going to go see him tomorrow. Can you come with us?”

  Lila froze and then stuttered, “I don’t know—I doubt he’d want me to.”

  “No, I think he would,” Shani answered.

  “Did you ask him?”

  Shani shook her head.

  “Would you?”

  “I’ll call him right now.” Shani pulled her phone from her purse.

  Lila looked over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

  Zane didn’t answer the first time, so Shani left a quick message and then tried again. He picked up on the fifth ring, the second time.

  “Hey,” Shani said, “do you mind if Lila comes tomorrow?”

  Zane didn’t answer.

  “Are you there?” Shani asked.

  “Yeah. Did you ask her?”

  “Uh-huh. She said to ask you.”

  “Sounds as if she doesn’t want to.”

  “No,” Shani said, watching Lila clear a table. “I don’t think so.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d have to hear it from her.” His voice sounded flat.

  “What’s the matter, sweetie?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Zane?”

  “Look, the doc is coming by any minute. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  Now Lila was headed toward her again. “Bye,” Shani managed to say, but the call cut off before she could tell him that she loved him. Every time they talked he seemed more and more unsettled. It was to be expected, she was sure. He had to be in a lot of pain. Plus there was all the uncertainty of what was next for him. And the guilt of taking a life. Plus he was on heavy pain meds too.

  “How is he?” Lila asked.

  “All right,” Shani answered.

  “Does he want me to come?”

  “I’m not sure. He couldn’t talk.”

  “Thank you for asking,” Lila said, “but I’m supposed to work tomorrow, and it would be really hard to find someone else to take my place at this point. Talk with him and see what he wants. Maybe I can go next time.”

  Shani nodded. It had been foolish of her to interfere. She wanted more than anything for Zane to have all the support he could, and she suspected that out of everyone he’d prefer to see Lila the most. If he’d only admit it.

  She reached for Lila’s hand. “I’m sorry,” Shani said.

  “For what?” Lila asked.

  “For meddling.”

  Lila leaned toward her, tears filling her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t think any of us knows what to do—not really.”

  “Did you get back together with Reuben?”

  Lila shook her head.

  Shani wanted to ask more, but Lila pulled away from her.
“I’ve got to get back to work. Let me know how Zane is, once you get back.”

  “I will,” Shani answered and told Lila good-bye.

  She stopped by the store before she went home and bought everything she could think of that Zane might need—a toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving cream, aftershave, snacks, writing paper, and pens. She picked up a couple pairs of shorts and sweatpants, several T-shirts, and two zip sweatshirts. She’d asked him what he needed and he’d said nothing.

  She’d also asked him how his pain was, and he’d just grunted. Honestly, she thought having Lila around might have encouraged him to be a little bit more communicative.

  Shani was surprised at the turmoil she felt about going to see Zane. He’d been injured, but they had so much to be thankful for. Still there were so many uncertainties. Something more had happened between him and Lila. Would that make him less likely to come home after he was discharged from the hospital?

  And would he have to go back to Afghanistan? The answer to that question was the one she feared the most.

  They arrived at Walter Reed Medical Center in Maryland at noon, exactly when Zane said they should. The old Walter Reed had been closed down several years before and combined with the National Naval Medical Center. Joel had never gone to the old Walter Reed, not when he was injured or recovering. And they hadn’t been to the new one either—not until today.

  A sign out front that read Where the nation heals its heroes stood sentry. Shani hoped it was true. The place was huge, but Zane had given them good directions. When they reached his room he was waiting, sitting up in the bed, his right arm in a sling. Adam hung back a little until Zane said, “Come close, Bub, so I can hug you. Over to my left side.”

  Adam followed Zane’s instructions and got the first half hug. Next Shani hugged him. Zane patted her back once, but that was all. Then Joel hugged him. Shani opened the bag she’d brought his things in and started pulling them out, placing them on the end of the bed.

  “You didn’t need to do that,” he said. “They have toothbrushes and stuff here.”

  “I know,” Shani said, “but it’s what moms do.”

  “Thank you,” Zane said. Then he turned his attention to Adam and they talked about when school was starting and how Trudy was. Zane didn’t seem as flat as he had on the phone.

  “Have you talked to Casey lately?” Shani finally asked.

  Zane nodded. “She called this morning.”

  “How are things over there?”

  “Fine, I think,” he answered.

  “How is Casey?”

  “Good.” He shifted in the bed, appearing annoyed. “We’re still just friends,” Zane added. “That’s all it’s ever going to be.”

  Shani nodded. She understood that now. “What did she say about Jaalal and his family? We’ve been praying, like you asked.”

  Zane’s expression darkened. “As far as I know everything’s the same.” Clearly he didn’t want to talk about any of that either.

  After a while Shani suggested that she and Adam go find a snack to bring back to the room. She hoped maybe Joel could get Zane to talk.

  When they came back with a tray of individual milk cartons and cookies from the cafeteria, Zane’s eyes were closed and Joel was sitting in a chair staring at the wall.

  “Is he asleep?” Shani whispered.

  Joel shook his head.

  “Just resting,” Zane replied.

  Shani put the tray on the table. Zane opened his eyes and said he wasn’t hungry, but he patted the bed for Adam to sit beside him. After a while, Zane said they should probably all go. “I’m tired,” he said.

  “Have you been up?” Shani asked. “Walking around?”

  He nodded. “Lots, Mom.”

  “What does the doctor say?”

  “That I’m doing fine.”

  “Can you come home? And do physical therapy as an outpatient?”

  “No. I’ll stay here.”

  She wanted to ask if he wished to come home at all. Instead she started to say, “Lila was—”

  Joel cleared his throat. Zane sighed.

  “—wondering . . .” Shani’s voice trailed off. It was best if she didn’t say anything at all.

  After a long silence, she asked, “When can we come again?”

  Zane shrugged. Joel cleared his throat again.

  “We’ll talk later,” Shani said. “You can let us know what works best.” If only she knew what Lila had said in her letter. Obviously Zane had gotten it. He was much colder than he’d been when he was home on furlough. Home. He seemed to have no desire to come back.

  Shani and Joel didn’t have a chance to speak in private until they’d returned home and walked out to look over the garden together. It needed to be weeded, and the tomatoes needed to be picked. So did the zucchini. She’d abandoned it as soon as Zane had been injured, when everything had shifted.

  “Did he talk with you after we left the room?” she asked as she turned toward the field.

  “Not really,” Joel said.

  “What did he say about getting shot?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  Joel exhaled and then said, “Just that he doesn’t think he could ever shoot another person again.”

  “Then he can’t go back,” Shani said. “Right?”

  Joel frowned. “I think a lot of soldiers probably feel that way after they kill someone.”

  Shani knew Joel had never had to shoot anyone in Iraq. Neither had Charlie. Joel put his arm around Shani. “I know you mean well but you need to take it easy. Zane will talk when he’s ready.”

  “What if he’s never ready?”

  “Then we keep waiting.”

  Shani turned back toward the house. Zane had shut them out for three years, pretty much, except when he was home on furlough. But she never would have expected that he’d shut them out even more after being wounded. Was it Lila? Or because of Jaalal and his family? What was bothering Zane the most? And why did he have to take it out on her and Joel?

  No matter what his reasons, Shani knew Joel was right. They’d keep waiting. And trusting. God would comfort Zane in ways she never could.

  19

  The next Sunday Zane stared at the vase of mums on the coffee table in the lobby as he waited for Simon. He’d been seeing an occupational therapist and doing a few yoga moves, ones he could do with his arm in a sling, to learn to reduce stress. A chaplain had visited quite a few times, but Zane hadn’t really told him anything.

  The chaplain stressed how important it was for Zane to talk to someone. “Look for a new buddy,” the guy had said. “Someone who’s been through something similar.” Zane doubted he would. He was growing weary of the banter between soldiers, sure the majority of their stories were exaggerated to match how they felt about what happened—not what actually did happen.

  Except for the times when it really was bad—when someone had died or when the soldiers in question had been hurt enough to land them back stateside. No one talked about those times. Zane hadn’t said a word about killing Benham to the chaplain or anyone else here. And he wouldn’t.

  He’d been having nightmares nearly every night. He’d wake up agitated and in a cold sweat, unable to remember his dreams. He didn’t plan to talk with anyone about those either.

  Dustin, a guy he’d met on the ward, rolled along the sidewalk outside of the sliding doors with his mom. She’d come out from Arizona as soon as he’d arrived and had barely left his side. He was much worse off than Zane. He’d lost both legs in an explosion. Pretty much everyone in the hospital was worse off than Zane. He’d been incredibly lucky—except for having killed Benham.

  He knew it could have been so much worse. The innocent boy that reminded him of Adam could have been killed too.

  He couldn’t help but think of the John McCrae poem. The beginning two lines bounced through his head, over and over. “In Flanders fields the poppies blow; Between the crosses, row on row . . .�
�� He thought of all the soldiers who never made it home through the last hundred years. And then the ones who did, like Dustin, whose lives would never be the same.

  The true cost of war was beyond his comprehension. Soldiers and families and civilians all paid for it their entire lives.

  Simon was late, which wasn’t surprising. He was stationed at Fort Belvoir in Virginia and said he was going to borrow a friend’s car to drive up. Last Zane knew, Simon didn’t have his license, but maybe that had changed.

  Zane stood, stretched, and ran his good hand along his sling. No one would give him a straight answer about going back to Afghanistan, probably because no one knew for sure. Rehab would be three or four weeks. That would put him into mid-September. Would they send him back for three months?

  As much as he wanted to see Jaalal, he didn’t think he could pull a trigger again to save himself or anyone else. But he wasn’t sure how to communicate that to Sarge. He wasn’t sure what he would do if given orders to return to Afghanistan. He thought about the deserters he’d read about in Canada. Maybe he should get his truck from home and drive north.

  He knew when he joined he’d have a hard time shooting someone, let alone killing another human being. But he didn’t fathom it would be this hard. The reality of it felt like a poison seeping through his body, through his soul.

  The sliding doors opened before anyone appeared, but then Simon literally jumped through the door. “I’m here!” he shouted, spreading his arms wide. “Better late than never.”

  Zane couldn’t help but laugh.

  Simon wore a plain black T-shirt, jeans, and old tennis shoes. It still didn’t seem right to see him out of trousers, suspenders, and a shirt.

  The two hugged, as best they could around the sling.

  “Hungry?” Simon asked.

  “Not really,” Zane answered.

  “Well, I’m starving. What’s there to eat around here?”

  “Are we driving or walking?”

  “How do you think I got here?”

  Zane shook his head. “I’m not sure how legal it was.”

  Simon lit up like a Christmas tree. “I got my license.”

  “When?”

  “Two days ago.”