by Amy Lillard
“It’s on Main. Next to the Chinese restaurant.”
“You’re Mennonite,” he said, as if for the first time noticing that she was dressed modestly, but not Plain. His face was passive as he spoke, but Leah saw the flash of censure in his eyes. A lot of people felt Mennonites were Amish who couldn’t cut it. But that was far from the truth.
She lifted her chin. “That’s right.”
Around them, the conversation fell silent.
Jamie cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to his plate, but something in Leah couldn’t let it go. How dare he pass judgment on her!
“Is there something wrong with being Mennonite?”
He seemed reluctant to answer. “They are more liberal, to be certain, jah?”
“And liberal is bad?”
“Leah, can you pass the potatoes, please?” Hannah’s voice was unnaturally high-pitched, and she still had a mound of food on her plate, potatoes included.
“I want to hear what he has to say,” Leah replied. She had been fighting these stereotypes ever since she had decided to join the Mennonite church. It was the closest she could be to the Amish without returning, but it was more than that. The message they preached, the love they shared, and the gospel of Jesus all spoke to her in a way Amish teachings never had. She turned her attention back to Jamie and raised one brow in challenge.
Jamie shrugged. “If it works between you and God . . .” he said, but didn’t finish the statement. He didn’t have to.
“Wow, Mamm, this roast is delicious,” Tillie said. “That’s one of the best things about fall. Cooking in the oven again. I mean, you can cook in the oven in the summertime, but it heats up the house so bad. This is the earliest I’ve ever seen you cook a roast. I don’t think I ever remember you cooking a roast in the summer the entire time I was growing up. What about you, Leah?”
She turned to her sister. “No, I can’t say as I remember a single one.”
And just like that, the conversation shifted. The atmosphere at the table seemed to relax, but every time Leah caught Jamie looking at her, she could see the remains of the censure in his eyes. What was so wrong with being Mennonite? She prayed to the same God, dressed modestly, and didn’t have to rely on a driver if she needed to go someplace. So she didn’t wear a prayer kapp. Her hair was still covered when she prayed. And just because she didn’t make her own clothes didn’t mean she was less godly than her sisters, or anyone else for that matter. Having a car didn’t change what was in a person’s heart. Maybe that was what was wrong with Jamie Stoltzfus. Maybe he was struggling with his own faith and taking it out on her choices. It was a good thing she wouldn’t have to see him again after tonight. Come tomorrow, she would be far too busy with her shop to worry about the likes of him.
* * *
Jamie forked up another bite of the delicious roast and said a silent prayer of thanks. He had been eating his own cooking for days. Not that it was bad, but it wasn’t good. Not like this.
The invitation from Eunice to come to supper tonight was a gift from heaven. He and Peter had been holed up in their tiny cabin at the edge of the Gingerich property doing everything they could to adjust to the move. But staying at his own house and eating his own food was not integrating him into this new community.
All he had wanted when he moved to Pontotoc was a fresh start. It was inevitable. No one there knew them. Oh, they knew his family or knew someone who did. None of the Southern communities were big enough to escape that. Everyone in Pontotoc knew someone in Ethridge. Everyone in Ethridge knew someone in Adamsville. Everyone in Adamsville knew someone in Pontotoc, and so on. If they didn’t know one of his kin, then they had surely heard of the terrible fire that had claimed the lives of his brother, his sister-in-law, and their baby, Ellie.
“Handiwork, jah?” David asked again.
Jamie nodded. “I figure I can take Peter with me when I go to a job.” He didn’t want to leave the boy at home alone. Peter was having enough struggles adjusting to what had happened to his family.
“He’s not in school?” This from Leah.
He had done his best not to look at her the entire time they had been seated at the table. It was a near impossible feat, as she was seated directly across from him. But even more than that, his gaze seemed to have developed a mind of its own and liked to look at her despite his best efforts not to.
“He doesn’t talk.” Was there a part of that he hadn’t made clear? He had hoped like everything that Peter would come out of this chosen-mute state he had fallen into. The boy could hear and see, he could think and respond, but he wouldn’t utter a word. It was beyond Jamie as to why, but the doctors in Nashville had cited trauma and told Jamie that he would come out of it when he came out of it. As long as he was eating, sleeping, drinking, and otherwise going about his normal day, not to worry about it. But Jamie worried. Oh, how he worried.
“He could still be in school. You don’t need to talk to get an education.”
“I suppose not,” he reluctantly agreed, “but the teacher in our last district had trouble keeping him occupied while all the other students were doing their regular lessons.”
“Maybe she just isn’t a good teacher.”
“She’s my sister.”
“Did anyone save room for pie?” Tillie jumped to her feet as she asked, her chair scraping hard against the floor as she stood so quickly. “I’ll go get it.”
“I’ll help.” Gracie followed her out of sight.
Leah let out a small cough. “I meant no harm.”
“No,” he said. She might not have meant any harm, but she was by far the most opinionated person he had ever met—Amish, Mennonite, or otherwise. Was she always this contrary?
“Maybe that worked against him,” Hannah mused. “You know, since she’s part of the family. You should consider sending him to our school. Aaron has three kids there. I could talk to them about Peter. They could look after him.”
And this was the other thing: talking about him like he wasn’t there. How hard was that for Peter? Jamie could only imagine.
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Jamie murmured. He still wasn’t certain how smart of an idea it was to send the boy to school this year. He had been working with him at home, hoping that he could give him a few lessons so he wouldn’t be so far behind come next year, but it was beginning to be more than he could handle. He had worried that Peter would be swallowed up in the constant motion at the boy’s grandparents’ house, but it might be better than what Jamie could give him.
He pushed that thought away and centered it on Hannah once again. He had heard somewhere that she and Leah were twins, but they could hardly look more different. And it had nothing to do with the way they were dressed. Hannah had lighter hair and hazel eyes, while Leah’s hair was dark like a raven and her eyes mossy green.
“It’s not an imposition. In fact, the school is just across the road from Aaron’s house. I’ll go over there tomorrow and talk with the teacher.” She gave him a pretty smile.
“Danki.” What else could he say? He was grateful, even if the thought left a stone of dread in his stomach.
Just then, Tillie and Gracie came back into the room carrying pie and dessert plates. Thankfully, the subject of school was dropped.
Blackberry pie was Peter’s favorite, and the boy dug in like a starving man. Jamie hid his smile. Peter might not talk these days, and he might be hard to handle in school, but he still had enthusiasm for a few things, and that had to be good. Jah?
* * *
“I thought you had gone home.”
Leah turned as Hannah pushed open the screen door and stepped outside. She stopped the porch swing with her heels so her sister could join her. “Nah. I thought I would stay so Brandon would have more time with you.”
Hannah laughed. “And he headed straight over to see Joshua.”
Brandon had made fast friends with his cousin over the summer—a relationship that had the entire family’s approval. Life had b
een difficult for Brandon in the past year, and he had shown it by growing out his hair, piercing his lip, and carrying around a generally bad attitude. After the death of his father, he moved to Pontotoc only to discover that the man he had called father his entire life wasn’t.
His true father was his mother’s first love, Aaron Zook. Theirs was a complicated story, but it was playing out in the time of God’s will. Hannah had moved back, fallen in love with Aaron again—as if she had ever not been in love with him—and was preparing to join the Amish church. Aaron, who was a widower, had never known that he had a son. The two were making steps toward building as normal a relationship as they could, given the circumstances. Brandon had moved in with Leah, who promised to care for him while his mother stayed in her family’s Amish home and worked toward her baptism the following year.
“Joshua’s a good influence,” Leah said, restarting the swing.
“Pontotoc is a good influence,” Hannah countered. “Living with you has been a good influence. By the way, have I told you thanks?”
Leah smiled. “About a million times.”
“Well, thank you. There. That’s a million and one.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds the creak of the swing’s chains, the call of night birds, and the muffled voices drifting out of the windows.
“Any luck getting him to cut his hair?” Hannah asked. Since moving to Mississippi, Brandon had given up most of his snarly attitude and his lip ring, but he still held fast to his shoulder-length hair.
“He always keeps it clean and out of his face.” Leah shrugged as if to say, What’s a surrogate mamm to do?
Hannah sighed, then flashed her sister a quick smile. “I kinda like it.”
Leah shook her head. “Then why ask him to cut it?”
“Dat. Have you seen the way he looks at Brandon?”
“I think you have it all wrong. When Dat looks at Brandon, he sees what the rest of us see: fifteen missing years. You denied him that. But he loves Brandon. It’s written all over his face. Besides,” she continued, “his hair isn’t much longer than Peter’s.”
“I suppose,” Hannah murmured. “What about that, huh?”
“What about what?” Okay, so she was playing dumb, but maybe if she acted unaware, Hannah would give up, thinking she was wrong.
“Uh, the sparks between you and Jamie.”
Leah scoffed. “There were no sparks.” At least none other than anger.
“I must be mistaken.” Her sister’s tone implied she was anything but.
They rocked back and forth for a few more moments, each one lost in the sounds of the night.
“He’s just so opinionated,” Leah said with a growl. She hopped to her feet and went to stand at the porch railing. “I mean, all that about Mennonites. Like we’re the devil’s minions because we have cars. Well, if it wasn’t for people like me having a car, he wouldn’t be in Mississippi, now would he?”
Hannah opened her mouth to reply, but Leah plowed on.
“And all that about being liberal. My skirt covers more than your dress. It’s longer, you know. I don’t go around showing my ankles. And my hair is covered when I pray.” She shook her head.
“You said your fair share too,” Hannah said.
Leah whirled to face her sister. “I was nothing if not nice to him.”
“You questioned why Peter wasn’t in school, called his sister a bad teacher, and asked about Peter’s burn scar.”
“That was Brandon.”
Hannah gave a small nod. “I suppose it was.”
“How were we supposed to know?”
They fell silent for a moment, then Hannah spoke. “You’ve been working so hard these last few weeks.”
Leah nodded.
“Too hard?” There was concern in her sister’s voice.
“Brandon has been the answer to my prayers, but he can’t be there every minute with me. He has school and Shelly.”
Brandon had met a girl his age at the library. Like him, Shelly took online classes there so she could use their computers to connect to the Internet. Shelly was smart and from a good family—a family that was also very conservative. They might not be Amish, but they lived a simple life “off the grid.”
“Are you worried about tomorrow?” Hannah asked.
Leah sighed. “I’m excited. I’ve gotten all that I can get done completed, but there’s still so much I want to do.” She had racks of clothing, all separated by gender, but she wanted to eventually separate it all according to size. That way she could keep up with her inventory better and make sure she had what her customers were shopping for. She wanted to expand the kitchen selection to include small appliances. She wanted to build shelves to carry used books. And that was just the beginning. She had many more plans. More plans than she had room for.
“It’s good to see you so excited about this.”
She smiled. “Well, we can’t all move home, reconnect with the love of our lives, and live happily ever after.”
“Have you been to see Benuel?”
Leah waved away a hand and looked out over the dark yard. Not much moved this time of the evening, so she pretended interest in nothing at all. “Why would I go see him? He’s moved on. He’s getting married this fall.”
Hannah nodded. “To Abby.” She waited just long enough before continuing that Leah turned back to face her. “Our cousin.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure this isn’t bothering you just a little?”
Leah sighed. “I’m positive.” Whatever had existed between her and Benuel had passed a long time ago. Next month he was getting married to Abby Glick, and Leah was happy for them both. Leah might be a tad envious that Hannah was getting married, but she had decided a long time ago that marriage wasn’t for her. She didn’t quite belong in any world, not the Englisch or the Amish. The Mennonites were the closest she had come to a place where she could be comfortable, but she couldn’t say one hundred percent it was where she was supposed to be. If she didn’t know her own place in the world, how could she join her life with another’s? Yet with each passing year she began to wonder if her decision had been a bit hasty. Now she had the shop to think about. It might not take the place of children or the loving arms of a faithful husband, but at least it filled her days. Right?
“Good.” Hannah rose to her feet. “Abby came by this afternoon. She wanted to make sure that we got the invitation to the wedding and that the two of us will be there.”
Leah was grateful for the cover of shadows. It hid the shock she was certain shone from her face like a beacon. “She wants us there?”
“She would like for us to help serve and to clean up afterward. Are you up for that?”
“Of course.” She swallowed back the lump in her throat. She would help her cousin. They were family, and that was what family did. They helped one another.
“Good,” Hannah said and started for the door to the house. “I’ll let her know.”
* * *
Leah gathered up Brandon, and they got into the car to drive home. All the way back to town, Brandon talked nonstop about Joshua, Peter, and Jamie. Brandon seemed to have settled into his new life quite well. They were something of kindred spirits, Leah and him. He had been raised Englisch by an ex-Amish mother and an Englisch father who really hadn’t been his father at all. Now he lived with a Mennonite in an apartment above a secondhand store in small-town Mississippi. Talk about adjustments.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Brandon asked as she parked the car.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she quipped, then stopped, one hand on the door to the shop. It was the biggest drawback she had seen with her business setup. She got to stay in the loft apartment for practically nothing, but she had to walk through the store to get to it.
“Though I think I might stay down here for a couple of hours and work on a few more shelves.” She had arranged them and rearranged them to the point where she was starting to move item
s back to their original places.
“Uh-uh.” Brandon took ahold of her elbow and nearly dragged her to the back room and up the steps. “You’ll have plenty of time to do that tomorrow. Tonight you need a good night’s sleep without any distractions.”
So why did Jamie Stoltzfus’s face pop into her mind? It wasn’t like she wanted anything to do with the man. But a distraction? Heaven help her, he was.
“But—” she protested.
Brandon pointed toward her room. “Go,” he said with mock seriousness.
Leah smiled. He really was a good kid. “How did you get so smart?”
He grinned in return. “Just comes naturally, I guess.”
* * *
The door to Jamie’s bedroom creaked slowly open, so slowly that it might have been caused by the breeze blowing in through the screen-covered windows. Yet it wasn’t the wind. This had happened before.
“Come on,” he said, moving to one side of the bed, then patting the empty space he had created. The sound of the flurry of little bare feet met his ears, then the mattress dipped slightly as Peter climbed into bed next to him.
It took only a second for Peter to snuggle down into the covers and become still once more. It was almost as if he needed to be close to Jamie, but he didn’t want to be a bother. Honestly, Jamie didn’t know why he ever made up the cot for the boy to sleep on in the front room. Every night since coming to live with him—first in Tennessee and now here—Peter crept into Jamie’s room sometime during the night.
Jamie supposed it was because he hadn’t been in the house when the fire had started. Peter’s dog, Goldie, had just had a litter of pups, and Peter wanted to spend every moment he could with the precious canines. The best Jamie could figure, his parents had put him to bed, and Peter had snuck out to the barn and the warm, wriggling puppies sleeping there and had fallen asleep. Once the fire started, Peter woke, ran into the flames, and tried to save his family. But he was too late. As far as Jamie knew, this was Peter’s way of never allowing that to happen again. The thought was heartbreaking.
It was a matter of minutes before Peter’s breathing became deep and slow.