by Beth Wiseman
He also had a milk mustache.
Despite her nerves, she had the urge to smile. She went to him and handed him a napkin. “Y-you’ve g-got m-milk o-on y-yer l-lip.”
“Oh.” His eyes widened and he took the napkin from her. “I’m always doing that.” He wiped off the milk. “Did I get it all?”
He didn’t. There was one spot right above the right corner of his mouth. Without thinking, she reached up and wiped it away with her thumb. Then she drew back quickly, her face blazing with embarrassment.
“Are you two ready to geh?” Aenti Judith walked into the kitchen, tying her black bonnet on her head. David was right behind her, still limping, but looking much better than he had when she’d arrived. Last night he’d been talking about helping stack the hay tomorrow, and Aenti Judith hadn’t protested. Life was getting back to normal for the Mullet family.
Which meant it was time for her to get back to her life in New York. A lonely life.
Amos moved away from her and walked out of the kitchen. He didn’t look at her while they sat next to each other in David’s buggy on the way to church. In fact, he was turned from her, looking outside.
Dinah wanted to jump out and walk back to the Mullets. She’d definitely offended Amos. Maybe he didn’t even understand exactly why he didn’t want to talk to Dinah or even look at her. But being ignored by him hurt, more than she thought possible.
Aenti Judith had said it was a ten-minute buggy ride to Bekah and Caleb Mullet’s house, Amos and Jeremiah’s cousins. Finally they pulled into the driveway of a large, beautiful farm, which caused her nerves to go into overdrive. There were two houses on the property, along with several white-fenced corrals, two large barns, and one smaller barn.
“Caleb and his brother, Johnny, own this farm,” Judith said as David parked the buggy next to another one, adding to the long line of black buggies already there. “They have both their houses on the property. We’ll have church in the smaller barn, but lunch is at Bekah’s haus.”
Dinah barely heard her aunt’s explanation. She saw men and women greeting one another and visiting while younger kids stayed nearby and older kids congregated together. There weren’t as many people as she feared, but as Judith and David stepped out of the buggy, she realized the number didn’t matter. Whether it was five or fifty new people, she was still anxious. She would still stutter. She would still be judged.
Then she felt Amos’s warm hand cover hers. She looked at him, stunned, seeing understanding in his eyes. “It will be okay,” he said.
As usual, his words were simple, but filled with deep meaning. A flood of emotion washed over her. His simple reassurance was what she needed to hear. He released her hand. Taking in a deep breath, she exited the buggy.
Aenti Judith was immediately at her side. “There are so many lovely people here,” she said. “They will make you feel right at home.”
Her aunt was right. While Amos visited with a small group of men who looked about his age, Aenti Judith introduced her to several women. She met Bekah Mullet, whose bright eyes and animated way of speaking put Dinah more at ease. Her sister Katherine, who was married to Johnny, Caleb’s brother, was a contrast to Bekah—quiet, graceful, with pretty reddish-blond hair and freckles. She also met Laura Thompson, and noticed the thin scars on the woman’s face. They didn’t detract from her beauty or her confidence.
“N-nice to m-meet y-you,” Dinah said, wishing she could be as confident as Laura.
“You are planning to stay for lunch, ya?” Laura said. She glanced at Bekah, who was standing next to her. “We’ll make sure to point out the pies Bekah made.”
Bekah arched her eyebrow. “Mei pies aren’t that bad.” Then she looked from Katherine to Laura and laughed. “Katherine made the pies this time.”
“Bekah’s famous for her cooking skills,” Laura added with a wink. “Her poor cooking skills, that is. We’re all surprised Caleb isn’t starving to death.”
“I’ll have you know that while I haven’t mastered baking, I make a decent supper.” She pointed her thumb at a well-built man who looked to be in his early thirties talking to Amos. “As you can see, mei husband is definitely not wasting away.”
The women burst into laughter. Dinah was a little bewildered that Bekah was taking the teasing so well. Clearly her feelings weren’t hurt.
Bekah’s laughter faded. “Dinah, I’m a terrible cook. I know it. Caleb knows it. He married me anyway.” She grinned and gestured at Laura and Katherine with a tilt of her head. “These two and their husbands never miss a chance to tease me about it.”
“That’s part of the fun of being familye,” Katherine said.
“I’m not actually familye,” Laura added.
Katherine shook her head. “You are familye. Not by marriage or blood, but by friendship.”
“Which is why you get a pass for teasing me.” Bekah let out an exaggerated sigh. “See what I put up with?”
Dinah started to relax and returned the smile. Before she could say anything, people began heading for the barn. “Service is starting,” Aenti Judith said.
As Dinah tried to focus on the sermon, she thought about her own family. The way her brothers had teased her about being shy and stuttering. How they had made her cry. Her reaction had been so different from Bekah’s. What if she hadn’t let the teasing get to her? What if she hadn’t been so sensitive to it? What if she hadn’t hidden away with her books and her poetry, afraid she was going to be made fun of at any moment?
But she wasn’t Bekah. She was Dinah. Stuttering wasn’t the same as not being able to cook.
She forced herself to focus on the rest of the service. When it was over, she filed out of the barn with the other women. She searched for Amos, but he had disappeared.
“Are you sure it’s okay if we stay for lunch?” Aenti Judith asked.
She wasn’t going to say no. “Sure.” She would do what she normally did at large gatherings—observe. Stay in the shadows. Make herself invisible.
It was a beautiful afternoon and Bekah and Caleb had long tables set up in their backyard, along with another table filled with cold food that didn’t need to be cooked. Dinah held back while everyone filled their plates, then she took a few pickles, a slice of Swiss cheese, a piece of bread, and a cookie. She avoided the pies, not because she didn’t trust them but because her stomach was still upside down. She went to sit by Aenti Judith, who was with several other women. David was at the next table with a few of the men. There was no sign of Amos.
Then she found him a few yards away, playing with several of the younger children. The oldest looked no more than seven. They were tossing and kicking a volleyball back and forth. Amos had taken off his vest and his shoes and socks.
“Watch this, Amos!” The oldest boy tossed the volleyball in the air and pounded it with his fist. It flew a few inches before landing with a thud on the ground.
Amos smiled and picked up the ball. “Let’s play hot potato!”
The children shouted their agreement and arranged themselves into a circle, Amos towering over them. He bounced the ball back and forth in his hands as if it really were hot, then gently tossed it to the child next to him. They continued to move the ball around the circle until it came back to Amos. “Oh nee!” he said, juggling the ball in his hands. “It’s so hot!” Then he dropped the ball and collapsed on the grass. The boys ran over and piled on top of him.
Dinah started to laugh. Amos playing with the children was the most charming thing she’d ever seen. They loved him, she could tell. “Let’s do it again,” Amos said, squirming from underneath the kids and jumping to his feet.
“Amos!” David shouted. “That’s enough!”
Amos and the children froze, as if they were all in trouble. Then Amos looked at them, crouching down as he spoke. “I have to mind mei daed. Just like you have to mind yer daeds.”
The children nodded solemnly and dispersed. Amos put on his shoes, socks, and vest, then went to his father’s ta
ble and sat down, not saying a word.
Aenti Judith remained silent, but she did give David a pointed look. The rest of the women and men had picked up their previous conversation as if nothing happened.
David looked at Judith. “He was behaving like a little kinn.”
“He was behaving like a father,” Dinah said, furious that Amos was humiliated like that. “A father playing with his kinner.”
That brought another round of silence, a frown from both David and Aenti Judith, and no response from Amos. Oh nee. She’d overstepped her bounds this time. “E-excuse m-me,” she said and fled from the table. She went to David’s buggy and hid behind it, burying her face in her hands. She embarrassed not only herself, but Aenti Judith and David, and most of all, Amos.
As tears welled in her eyes, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Figuring it was Judith either coming to chastise her or see if she was okay, she wiped away the one tear that had escaped. She turned around and stilled.
Amos could tell Dinah had been crying. Not a lot, but he saw how wet her eyes were. That made him feel worse than he had when she had run from the table. This was his fault. If he hadn’t been playing with Caleb and Johnny’s sons and a couple of other boys, his father wouldn’t have said anything and Dinah wouldn’t be upset right now. He loved his little cousins and enjoyed playing games with them. This was the first time his father had said anything, and Amos hadn’t realized he’d been acting like a child when he was playing with them. He thought they were all having fun. Once again, he was wrong.
“A-Amos, I’m so s-sorry.” Dinah went to him. “I-I d-didn’t mean to embarrass y-you.”
“I’m not embarrassed.” At least not by what she said.
“I shouldn’t have . . . I-I d-didn’t w-w-want t-t-t-to . . .”
Shaking his head, he went to her. She was fighting to speak. She didn’t have to do that around him. He put his hands on her shoulders, not understanding why he did it, but knowing he needed to touch her, to let her know he wasn’t upset with her. “Dinah.”
She took in a big breath, like he did right before he put his head underwater when he went swimming. “I-I’m g-going t-to g-geh back to N-New Y-York.”
Chapter Nine
Dinah felt Amos’s hands tighten on her shoulders. The movement wasn’t painful, but it did get her attention. She looked up at him, seeing his expression change to panicked confusion. He seemed genuinely upset. “Why are you leaving?” he asked.
“I-it’s t-time f-for m-me t-to geh home.”
“But you have another week here.”
He’d kept track of her visit? She tried not to think about how good Amos’s touch felt. How right it felt. “Y-you are v-very busy. D-David is b-better, and y-you need t-to finish th-the harvest.”
“Aren’t you going to help?” His brow furrowed. “You said you were going to teach me to read.”
“You still want to learn?” she said, her surprise causing her to forget about her nerves and her stammer.
“Ya.”
“I-I thought you changed y-yer mind.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because every n-night you’ve left r-right after supper.”
“I know.”
She waited for him to elaborate. Then she realized she needed to be specific with him. “You’ve been busy, ya?”
“Ya. Very busy. But I finished what I was doing. It took longer than I thought. So now I’m ready to learn to read.” He paused. “Why are you running away?”
“I-I’m n-not r-running . . .” But wasn’t that exactly what she was doing? Running away because she was uncomfortable. Because she was embarrassed. Because she’d been afraid that Amos didn’t feel the same way she did. At the first sign of difficulty she did what she always had—she fled.
He shook his head. “You can’t geh. Everyone leaves me. Jeremiah left.” He paused. “Jeremiah also came back. But Mamm left and didn’t come back. I don’t want you to do that. Please, Dinah Keim. I want you to stay.”
Her heart squeezed in her chest as she saw the pleading in his eyes. He wasn’t trying to guilt her into changing her mind. He was telling the truth. And because of her selfish fear, she would be another person who hurt him. She couldn’t bear that.
And if he could be honest with her, she had to be honest with him. “I-I w-want . . .” She cleared her throat and tried again. This is Amos, remember? “I want to stay. But that will be hard because I like you so much.”
“I like you too.”
She shook her head. “Amos, I’m not talking about being friends.”
He tilted his head to the side. “I’m not talking about being friends either.”
It amazed her how he did this, going from sounding like a sweet, innocent guy to a strong, determined man. But she knew she had to be clear. She had to make him understand how she truly felt. “I like you like a girl likes a boyfriend. A mann she wants to date.”
“You like me like Anna Mae likes Jeremiah?”
Biting her bottom lip, she nodded.
He grinned. “Then everything is okay, because I like you like Jeremiah likes Anna Mae.”
“Dinah? Amos?”
Amos dropped his hands from her shoulders at the sound of Judith calling their names. He peered into her eyes, his gaze intense. “You’re staying.”
“Ya,” she whispered, locked into place by what she saw in his eyes, what she felt from the tone of his words. It wasn’t a request, or even a demand. It was a fact. “I’m staying.”
“There you are.” Aenti Judith looked from Dinah to Amos. Her forehead creased so slightly that Dinah almost didn’t catch it. “Are you ready to geh home?”
“Ya,” Amos said. “We’re ready.”
No one said anything on the ride home. David tucked his chin and stared straight ahead as he guided the horse and buggy. Aenti Judith remained silent. Amos looked out the side of the buggy, much like he had when they had driven to Bekah’s this morning.
Dinah placed her hand on the space between her and Amos, her mind whirring. Amos liked her. Knowing that made her feel like she was tucked in a warm cocoon. They had feelings for each other. But what did that mean?
She also had to figure out how to apologize to David. She didn’t regret what she said, yet she shouldn’t have made a public outburst. But even that couldn’t diminish the peace she felt.
Feeling a light brush against her hand, she looked down. She smiled as Amos linked her pinky finger with his.
After a cold supper, Amos told Dinah to meet him out in the barn. Dinah hesitated. Aenti Judith and David were in the living room napping. After what she and Amos had admitted to each other, she didn’t think it would be a good idea to be alone with him. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. She wasn’t sure she trusted herself.
He stood in the kitchen, waiting for her to answer. Then she remembered the reading lessons. She needed to focus on something other than being alone with him. “I need to run upstairs,” she said. “Will you wait for me?”
“Ya. I will wait for you, Dinah Keim.”
Dinah hurried upstairs, grabbed her poetry notebook, then ran downstairs, slowing her steps near the bottom when she saw Aenti Judith shift in her chair. David was snoring on the couch. She softened her footsteps and crept to the kitchen. Amos was already holding the back door open for her and they went outside.
She followed him to the barn, stopping when he did before walking in. He turned to her. “This is a secret. No one knows about this except mei familye. You can’t tell anyone, okay?”
“I promise I won’t.” She couldn’t imagine what he was going to show her that could be so secret. She also couldn’t imagine Amos having a secret David would be willing to keep. But when she stepped inside, she understood.
“Oh, Amos.” She looked around the barn. Amos was lighting the lanterns that hung on the wall. As he lit each one, light shone on magnificent artwork. She nearly dropped her notebook as she looked at the variety of drawings—livest
ock, family members, the hayfield, a golden sunset, a lavender sunrise . . . the stunning creations were everywhere.
Amos blew out the long match he’d used to light the lanterns and turned to her. “Do you like it?”
“I—” She wasn’t stuttering. She was speechless. “You drew all of these?”
“Ya.” He went to her and took her hand. He held it as he took her around the barn, telling her about the drawings, speaking with the surety of an artist who was a master at his craft.
Then he took her to the corner of the barn. “This is mei favorite.”
Her eyes widened as she knelt in front of the two portraits. One was clearly her. A better, prettier version of her. Is this how he sees me? Next to her much-improved face was another woman a little older than Dinah. She looked at the portrait . . . and saw Amos’s eyes. “Yer mamm,” she said.
“Ya.” He crouched beside her. “Jeremiah and I drew it after she died.”
Tears pooled in Dinah’s eyes. “She’s beautiful.”
“She’s pretty,” Amos said. He ran his fingers over Dinah’s portrait, touching the top of her cheek. “You’re beautiful.”
Now how was she supposed to focus on reading after that? She wiped her eyes and stood. “Danki, Amos.”
He rose and faced her. “That’s what I was busy doing. Drawing you. I wanted the picture to be perfect. Like you are.”
“I’m not perfect, Amos.”
“You are to me.”
Her heart drank in his compliments. Pride was discouraged in their faith. But were they being prideful? Or was Amos being honest? She knew he wasn’t stroking her ego or giving her empty flattery. This was how he saw her. Perfect.
Knowing she needed to start the reading lesson before she lost all reason, she moved away from the portrait. She saw a square hay bale on the opposite side of the barn against the wall. That would be a good place for them to sit. She walked over there, hearing Amos behind her. She sat down on the hay bale, and he sat down next to her. Close quarters, but not as close as they had been moments before. She blew out a breath and opened her notebook. “This poem is called ‘The Autumn.’ ” She pointed to the word autumn, thinking it would be tricky for him. “The n is silent.”