Ha! That hadn’t happened.
So instead of worrying over Daniel Glick, she proceeded as normal for the next week—attempting to tame Carl-the-bad-tempered-rooster, helping her mamm with household chores, and keeping her eyes open for any new projects that might raise money for her family. Everyone called them her “get-less-poor” schemes, since a “get-rich” scheme seemed too far-fetched.
And while she did those things, she continued to try to learn more about their new neighbor.
On Friday, she decided she could use a few hours away from the farm, so she walked over to Liza Kauffmann’s house to see if somehow she’d heard something that Becca hadn’t. Liza had been her best friend for years and years. Liza understood her, though in many ways they were polar opposites. For one thing, Liza had plenty of beaus.
Liza was in the middle of making fresh bread. She punched the dough, turned it on the floured countertop and then proceeded to divide it in half. “I can’t believe I haven’t met him yet.”
“How could you? He rarely leaves his farm.”
She slipped the two halves into two loaf pans, covered them, then nodded toward the window. “Walk with me over to the shop?”
“Sure.”
The fall day was glorious—leaves crunched under their feet, and the sweater Becca was wearing provided just the right amount of warmth against the crisp autumn air. She’d be perfectly happy if only she wasn’t so puzzled by Daniel Glick.
“Strange that he’s not more interested in meeting some of the local girls.”
“I guess.”
“You would think that someone so...young...” Liza drawled.
“How do you know he’s young?”
“Deborah told Mary, who mentioned it to me.”
Becca somehow resisted the urge to slap her palm against her forehead. “The Shipshe grapevine is alive and well.”
“Stop calling it that.”
They walked into Liza’s bakeshop, which was actually a small modular house that had been outfitted with shelves to hold the items she baked in their kitchen. Liza was an expert baker. Give her sugar, flour and any variety of ingredients, and she could create something that would make your mouth water.
She was two years younger than Becca, still enjoying the freedom of her rumspringa—which explained the cell phone and romance novels. Liza was also putting on at least ten pounds a year. None of those things mattered to the eligible men in their community. Liza could cook, and she had more interested males stopping by her place than she could shake a rolling pin at.
“I don’t think you’d be interested in Daniel. He’s older—older than us, and he’s serious.”
“How serious?”
“I’ve only seen him smile when he’s teasing me about Carl-the-bad-tempered-rooster.”
“Well, I’m not looking for a husband anyway.”
“Still in no hurry to settle down?”
“Just because I love baking doesn’t mean I want to stay home every Saturday night.”
Becca shrugged her shoulders at that comment. She was used to Liza’s rebellious ways.
“I just keep wondering why Shipshe? Why that farm? What’s he doing here?”
“I don’t know, Becca. Life can lead you to strange places. I never thought I’d go to a Notre Dame football game, but there I was last weekend in a college stadium that holds eighty thousand fans.”
“Did you wear your kapp?”
“I wore a cap, but it had a Notre Dame logo on it.” Liza winked, then smoothed out her apron. “Don’t give me that look. I wore blue jeans and a sweatshirt—it was all quite proper.”
“But not Plain.”
“Nein. It wasn’t.” Liza squirreled up her nose. “Don’t you ever want to experience things? Other things?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. The Notre Dame campus has Touchdown Jesus in the end zone, the Basilica of the Sacred Heart, and the Grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes.”
“I have no idea what any of those things are.”
“Beautiful, that’s what they are. You know, Amish don’t have a corner on all things to do with Christ. You’d be surprised when you step out of our community how much of Gotte is still around.”
“Well, you don’t have to lecture me about it.”
“Guess I’m a bit touchy about it all. Mamm keeps trying to set me up with Amish men—respectable Amish men. She always makes sure I understand that they are the good, decent sort.”
“I suppose I should be grateful my mamm is too busy with the twins to meddle in my social life.”
“Take it from me—you really should be.”
As she walked home, Becca couldn’t help wondering whether Daniel would find Liza attractive. The man could use a wife, especially one that knew how to cook. Though the thought of Liza living in a house where the roof was falling in was enough to make Becca laugh out loud.
It was later that afternoon, while she was tending to her newest project, that she had a chance to tease Daniel.
He’d been avoiding her since Sunday dinner. It seemed he kept changing the time that he brought in Constance. She’d had little chance to properly pepper him with questions. So on Friday afternoon, she brought along a cookbook and sat down to page through it while she waited for him to bring Constance into the barn.
When he did, she pounced.
“Still not working on the house, huh?”
He didn’t ask what she was doing on his side of the barn. In truth, you couldn’t actually split a barn in half. They shared the large open area. Daniel kept Constance in one of the stalls on his side. Becca kept Carl-the-bad-tempered-rooster and her other projects on her family’s side.
“Still not working on it,” he agreed.
“Aren’t you worried about winter coming?”
“I’m more worried about the fields.”
“Yes, I saw you out there working.”
He didn’t answer that. Daniel was good at not commenting on things, which made Becca want to provoke him all the more. Although provoke might be the wrong word. She was simply curious. Was that such a sin?
“Seems the girls in the district are all talking about you.”
“Is that so?”
“You’ll have a chance to meet them at church on Sunday.”
Daniel grunted.
“My friend Liza, she’s a very gut cook—baker mostly, but she can cook just about anything.”
He walked to the other side of Constance to brush her down. That horse received more attention than the average Amish wife, Becca was sure of that.
“Are you trying to set me up, Becca?”
“Nein. I just thought you should know what you’re walking into.”
“Is that why you hang out over here? Trying to provide the Amish grapevine with new information?”
“That’s what I call it, too.”
“Every community has one.”
“It’s not like we have Facebook.”
“What’s that?”
“Or Twitter?”
“Twit who?”
“Or Snapchat.”
Daniel placed the horse brush on a shelf and walked over to open the stall door, forcing her to back up. It was a half door, so Constance could stick her head out whenever she wanted. She imagined that he spent his nights sitting outside the door, singing to the spoiled mare. As he walked out of the stall and carefully secured the door latch, he asked in a low voice, “Are you sure you’re Amish?”
“Pretty sure. If not, I have a terrible sense of fashion.”
“What’s wrong with your fashion?”
“Look at me. Long dress, apron, kapp on my head.”
“Would you rather be wearing Englisch clothes?”
“Of course not. Why are we even talking about my clothes? Let’s talk
about you.”
“Still nosing around.”
“It’s natural to share. I’ll start. I’m twenty-four, I’m the second oldest of nine siblings...”
“I already know all of that.” Daniel crossed his arms and leaned against the closed stall door. “Have you ever dated?”
“That’s a rude question.”
“I thought it was natural to share.”
“Except I don’t want to share about that.”
“All right. Tell me about your projects. What have you been doing on your side of the barn?”
“What?”
Daniel’s smile brightened. He tucked his thumbs under his suspenders—which should have looked stupid, but actually made him look less stiff and more likable—and began to walk toward her side of the barn.
“Where are you going?”
“I should probably be aware of what’s going on under the roof of my barn.”
“Our barn. Remember? We both own it.”
“Your dat and mamm own it. I’m sure they’d want me to keep an eye out.”
“Hang on. That’s none of your...”
But Daniel had already walked into the stall where she’d set up her latest project. It was closest to the outer door on her side and allowed in plenty of light so the plants could grow.
“What is this?”
“It’s nothing.”
He stooped closer to study the plants that were now six inches high. “What are you growing?”
“It’s just a project. I received it through a mail-order service a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve been...you know...watering, making sure they have plenty of light, using these growing supplements they gave me.”
When he turned toward her, she expected to see him laughing at her. Instead, his eyes had widened, and he was looking at her as if he’d just seen Carl dance a jig. He was looking at her with obvious disbelief.
“Do you know what this is?”
“Of course, it’s...” Becca picked up the pamphlet that had come with the plants and peered at it. “From the family Cannabaceae.”
“Cannabaceae?”
“I don’t really know how to pronounce the word. Besides, it doesn’t matter what it is. I take care of and grow the plants, then call this number and someone will come out to pick them up and pay me. It’s a great deal. I can make five to six dollars a plant, which is a lot of money even if only two thirds of the plants survive.”
“Becca, this is hemp.”
“What?”
“It’s hemp. Basically it’s marijuana without the THC content.”
“It is not. I wouldn’t grow marijuana in my parents’ barn.”
“It’s not marijuana. It’s hemp. Did you apply for a license to grow this?”
Becca couldn’t resist. Both hands planted firmly on her hips, she stomped her foot. “Read my lips. That’s not what this is. It’s just...it’s just...”
She picked up the brochure again. “Some kind of medicinal herb.” She’d meant to read the entire description, but then something had distracted her. Now she was having trouble focusing on the words. Various phrases popped out, like industrial hemp, may contain a maximum THC content of 0.30% and how to deal with thieves.
Her chest started to tighten, sweat trickled down the back of her neck, and she felt a sudden light-headedness. The words on the brochure seemed to swim before her eyes, and when she glanced up, Daniel looked as if he was standing at a slant.
Daniel grabbed both of her hands and pulled her outside, into the fading light of a bright October afternoon. “Sit there. Head between your knees.”
“Why?”
“You looked as if you were about to faint.”
“I’m not the fainting type.”
“So you might not recognize the symptoms.”
“I might have made a mistake,” she mumbled.
“What?”
“I said...” But when she raised her head, he was smiling at her, and she knew that he’d understood her perfectly well.
“It’s not a problem,” he said. “Just throw the plants away.”
“Throw them away?” That idea brought the blood rushing to her cheeks. She sat up straighter, then rested her head back against the barn. “I can’t throw them away. What if someone finds them?”
“No one will find them.”
“Maybe Hannah and Isabelle.”
“Why would they be out here in the barn?”
“They could get high.”
“No one’s going to get high. It’s not marijuana per se. Did you even read the pamphlets?”
“I could burn them, but then we might all get high. Imagine Carl-the-bad-tempered-rooster high.” She covered her face with her hands.
Daniel moved to sit beside her on the bench. “It’s all a mistake. It’s just a mistake. You can fix this.”
“But it is illegal?”
“Ya. I suppose it is since you need a license to grow hemp here in Indiana.”
“So I’ll get a license.”
“They’re backed up. It’s a nine-month process.”
“Nine months?” She stood and began pacing in front of him. “What was I thinking? Why didn’t I read the fine print?”
“Actually it says right here on the cover that you should check your state laws before growing.”
Becca snatched the pamphlet from his hands.
“How do you know so much about this? Is that what you came here for? To grow hemp?”
“I’m not the one growing it.” Instead of looking defensive, he still seemed to be holding in a belly laugh.
“But you know a lot about the subject. Explain that to me.”
Daniel sighed heavily, then admitted, “Both of my bruders applied to grow it in Pennsylvania. You’re right. It’s a gut crop, and people use it for all sorts of things that are natural. It fits right in with our Amish way of life.”
“What kind of things?”
“Clothing, rope, medicinal herbs and lotions.”
“But I need a license.”
“Ya. You do.”
Becca crossed her arms, drummed her fingers and tried to think. She didn’t have a license. Her parents couldn’t afford any sort of fine. She surely didn’t want to give what little money she’d saved to the Shipshewana judicial court. With one last look at Daniel, she turned and hurried back into her hemp room.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m taking these in to the police station.” She began pulling the plants out by their roots and stuffing them into a box. Stupid plants. She’d done the math. She would have made at least five hundred dollars.
“You’re taking that box in to the police station?”
“Sure. I’ll just explain it’s all a big mistake, and ask them to dispose of these for me.”
“How are you going to get there?”
That stopped her in her tracks. How was she going to get there? Dat had their only buggy and had gone to visit his bruder. She couldn’t ride her bike carrying the box she was holding, and she wouldn’t be able to put them all into the one box anyway.
She expected to look up and see Daniel laughing at her.
She wouldn’t have been surprised to receive a lecture from him, as he seemed to delight in her projects that went awry—at least he’d laughed a good deal over Carl-the-bad-tempered-rooster. But instead of haughtiness, she saw sympathy in his eyes.
Or maybe it was pity.
The one thing Becca didn’t want from anyone was pity.
The expression was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Daniel stepped closer, reached forward and tucked a wayward lock of hair into her kapp. His touch caused a cascade of goose bumps to parade down her arms.
Why was he looking at her that way?
Was he laughing at her on the inside?
>
Did he see her as some sort of entertainment factor for folks stuck on a farm?
If she’d doubted Daniel’s motives, his next words swept away any questions she might have had. “I’ll harness Constance. We’ll go together.”
Chapter Four
Daniel was sorely tempted to laugh, but one glance at Becca convinced him to hold that in check. She had been completely silent for the entire drive. As he directed Constance to turn into the parking area of the Shipshewana Police Department, Becca finally broke her silence.
“I’ve never been to the police department.”
“It’s gut to do something new every day.”
“This from the man who doesn’t leave his farm.”
“What are you afraid might happen?”
“They could arrest me!”
“Doubtful. I imagine they save their cells for unsavory characters.”
“They could issue me a citation.”
Daniel ran a hand over the right side of his face. He’d had a few encounters with the police in Pennsylvania, mostly due to his two bruders acting out. On both of those instances, the police had been nothing but professional, but he didn’t want to go into that story right now.
“I think you’re going to be fine.”
“How do I explain this to them?”
“I don’t know. Start with the truth?”
She nodded as if that made sense, grabbed one of the boxes of hemp plants and took off toward the front door. Daniel grabbed the additional two boxes they’d needed and jogged to catch up with her.
The officer at the front desk had dark black hair pulled back in a braid, light brown skin and a name tag that read Raquel Sanchez.
Becca juggled the box from her right arm to her left, tugged at her apron and then blurted out, “I’m here to turn in these hemp plants.”
The officer cocked her head to the side. “That’s a new one. Take a seat over there.” She nodded toward a small waiting area.
They waited fifteen minutes. Twice Daniel tried to start a conversation. Both times Becca looked at him as if he’d spoken in a foreign language. Finally, he leaned closer and said, “Stop worrying. You’re not a criminal.”
The Amish Christmas Secret Page 5