by Amy Lillard
“Why didn’t you ride with Aaron?” Why hadn’t she thought of this before? The setup stench was beginning to reek.
“He was coming with Jamie.”
Of course.
Leah sighed. She wished she had insisted she bring her car. That way she could make an early escape. As it was now, she was going to need more ice cream than she had ever needed in her life.
* * *
“Okay, everybody, listen up.” Sarah Hostetler raised her hands above her head and clapped them to get everyone’s attention. The whole of the group stood in Sarah’s large kitchen-dining room area, awaiting party instructions. “Now I know that many of you have been to ice-cream parties before, but this one is different. This is an ice cream exchange. First, you’ll draw a name out of the jar. If you get your own name, you have to draw again. Yes, I’m talking to you, Daniel Hostetler.” Laughter rose all around.
Leah shifted from one foot to the other and wondered yet again how she had managed to get into this mess. She was getting her bowl of ice cream, wolfing it down at the risk of brain freeze, then demanding that Hannah take her home.
“Once you get your name, do not tell anybody who you have. Draw five pieces of paper out of the next jar, and those will be the toppings that go on the sundae.”
“You don’t think we can pick out our own ice-cream toppings?” one of the males asked. Leah thought it was Sam Yoder, Sarah’s brother.
“I surely don’t, brother. You’ll pick five pieces of paper from the second jar, and that’s how you’ll prepare your sundae.”
“You already said that,” someone grumbled. Most likely Sam again.
Sarah frowned, but didn’t return the volley. “Once your sundae is complete, you find the person whose name you got and present them with their sundae. Are you ready? Go!”
There was a flurry of fabric as participants moved toward the jars to draw out their name and toppings. Leah hung back. She wasn’t a part of the group, not really, so she wanted everyone else to have their turn first.
She hadn’t seen Jamie since she arrived. Nor had she seen Aaron. Hannah disappeared first thing to find him, leaving Leah and Gracie to fend for themselves.
“I don’t think he’s here.” Disappointment colored Gracie’s voice.
“Who?”
She shot Leah a sideways smile. “Never mind. Here he comes.”
Leah looked behind her. Jamie was making his way toward them, his destination clear.
Heavens, he was handsome. Add in his generous heart, and she could almost overlook that he was a conservative Amish. Almost. There was that little matter of the church.
“I guess this is the happening place to be, jah?” he asked, glancing around at the crowd of people.
Gracie followed his gaze with her own. “Oh, it’s always like this when we get together.”
Leah remembered all those singings and trips. The community was close and supportive. They spent a lot of time together, and as they grew so did the group, adding husbands and wives into the mix.
“It wasn’t that night at Aaron’s. There were only about five people there.”
Gracie turned a bright shade of pink. “That’s because it really wasn’t a group function.”
Leah could almost see when her words hit home with Jamie. “Oh,” he said slowly. “I get it. And that’s why you didn’t come.”
“I didn’t want it to be so obvious that they were trying to set us up. It’s—” She shook her head.
“What?” Leah asked.
“It’s embarrassing.”
“You don’t want to tell us?” Jamie guessed.
“No, that everybody tries to set me up and it never seems to take.”
“Did you three get your names?” Sarah Hostetler breezed up, stopping when she saw nothing in their hands.
“Not yet,” Leah said.
“No time like now.” Sarah grabbed the women by one arm each and urged them toward the jars. “You too, Jamie,” she tossed over one shoulder.
Leah caught the tiniest of smiles playing around his lips, then she turned back front. It was going to be one interesting evening.
* * *
“There you are.”
Jamie cringed at the words, or rather at the sound of her voice. “Deborah.” He spun round to face her, pasting on a smile he hoped looked sincere. He wanted to break it off with her, not destroy her self-worth. But he was beginning to wonder if the two were one and the same.
“I’ve got your ice-cream sundae.” She held the bowl up as if to entice him with her efforts. Her smile was dazzling. Everyone was milling around finding the person they had made the sundae for and accepting their own. The pairings were odd. Aaron had drawn Sam Yoder’s name, and Hannah was handing off her concoction to their hostess herself.
He cleared his throat. “You, uh, drew my name?” It was almost a question.
“Very lucky, I’d say.” Her smile widened, if that was even possible.
“Very lucky,” he murmured in return.
Deborah leaned in a bit closer. “I drew the papers for the toppings, but didn’t use them. I know what you like on ice cream, so I got those toppings instead.”
Not exactly the purpose of the activity. At least as far as he could tell. Wasn’t this about talking to other people? Trying new things? Getting out of the box?
“That’s uh . . . great,” he finally said.
“Here’s your ice cream,” Leah said, stopping short when she saw the two of them standing together.
Deborah’s hand fluttered to her chest. “My ice cream?” she gushed.
“Actually it’s . . . Jamie’s.” Her words trailed off as she noticed the ice cream he already held. “Is that for someone else?”
He let out a small cough. One of them hadn’t drawn his name out of the jar, and he had a feeling it wasn’t Leah. “It’s mine.”
A frown puckered her brow. “Oh.”
“Isn’t that something?” Deborah said. “Sarah must have put Jamie’s name in twice. Or maybe it was Sam. I think he was in charge of the names.”
“That’s something, all right,” Leah muttered.
Not that he could blame her. It was a little awkward being presented with two sundaes and knowing full well that Deborah hadn’t pulled his name from the jar.
Deborah peered into the bowl Leah still held. “You drew toppings, didn’t you?” She wrinkled her nose. “I only say that because of the pineapple. Jamie hates pineapple.”
He wouldn’t go that far. He would say that it wasn’t his favorite, but it had been a while since he had eaten any; maybe it was time to try it again.
Leah’s expression was unreadable. He wasn’t sure if she wanted to dump the ice cream on his head or over Deborah’s. He was leaning toward Deborah.
“Did you not get an ice cream, Leah?” he asked. Maybe if he changed the subject . . .
“It’s okay,” Leah said. “You don’t have to eat it.” She spun on one heel and marched away.
“Nice going,” Gracie said. He had been so busy trying to smooth over ruffled feathers that he hadn’t even seen her arrive. “Here.” She thrust one of the sundaes she held toward Deborah.
She accepted it, albeit reluctantly. “This is mine?” By the tone of her voice, anyone walking by would think it was laced with poison.
“I drew your name,” Gracie explained. “Now take this so I can go see about my cousin.”
Jamie thrust his ice cream at her instead. “I’ll check on her.”
“But—” Deborah said, but he was already walking away.
It took a very long five minutes to find her. Everyone was milling around, and with the constant shift of bodies he had no means of navigation. Finally, he caught her by the front door. She looked ready to bolt.
“Leah,” he called.
She shook her head. “Don’t. Just don’t.”
“I’m sorry. I wanted to come here and spend a little time with you.” They couldn’t exactly date, or even call it dating, bu
t he had to have a way to see her, talk to her, get to know her better. He had to have a way to show her everything she was missing and all she could gain by joining the Amish church.
“It’s okay. Go see Deborah. I’m leaving.” She escaped out the door before he could utter another word.
She shut the door behind her, leaving him to rattle the doorknob before he finally got the thing open. “Leah,” he called, but she was already striding across the yard. He took off after her.
He caught her with ease, touching her arm to stop her. She didn’t turn around, so he walked in front of her so he could see her face. The sun was starting to set, painting the sky pink and orange as it descended. It wouldn’t be much longer before everyone would start leaving so they could get home before it went down completely.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know she was going to be here. Nor did I realize this would hurt you so.”
“It’s not that, Jamie. Not at all.”
“Then what is it?”
She gestured toward the house, a wild, flailing motion with one arm. “That’s where you belong. Not with me. But there with the Amish. Deborah’s little ice-cream stunt only brought home what I already knew. I don’t belong here, and you do. You belong with Deborah.”
He blinked. That was about as far from what he had expected her to say as possible. “I belong with Deborah?”
She shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. You should court someone you will be able to ask to marry you. Not a Mennonite like me.”
He wanted to tell her how easy it would be to change that, but he kept his mouth shut. She knew. Her sister was following that path now, and Leah could too, but he wanted it to be her idea, her plan. “Peter doesn’t like her,” he said. Not the best argument for his case, but it was out there, and he had to go with it.
“I should have never told you he said that.”
He took a step closer, clasping his hands on her arms just above the bend of her elbows. “Do you always wear long sleeves?” he asked, unsure of where the question had come from.
“Most times.”
“Even in the summer heat?”
She shrugged. “I did when I was Amish.”
That was true, but when she was Amish, her sleeves were full and didn’t hang so close to her skin. These T-shirts were snug, but still very modest. She thought she was liberal for a Plain woman, but he knew that deep down she was as conservative as he was. Well, almost.
“I’m sorry I told you Peter said that about Deborah,” she finally said.
“I’m glad you told me. Though Peter has made his feelings known without words.”
She frowned and took a step back, forcing him to follow or release her. He opted for the latter. It was safer by far.
“Why would you marry someone Peter hates?” she asked.
“Why would you tell me to?” he returned. “And hate is such a strong word.”
One dark brow raised in disbelief.
“I’m not marrying Deborah, though I can’t seem to convince her of that.”
She laughed. That had to be a good sign.
“I’m not marrying anybody right now,” he continued. “This whole mess with Gracie just showed me that I don’t want a marriage like that. I want to marry for love. Peter deserves that. I deserve that.” It was mostly the truth. He wanted to marry Leah for love. He just had to convince her to return to her roots and love him back.
“You do,” she said, her voice thick. “We all do.”
* * *
Leah swallowed back her tears and watched Jamie’s expression for any sort of change. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, just . . . something.
“Thanks for the explanation,” she said. “If you see my sister, tell her I walked home.”
“You can’t walk home.”
“I know the way.”
“It’ll be dark before you get halfway there.”
She looked back at the house. “I’m not going back in there.” She didn’t belong there. She had felt every difference. She hadn’t thought it would be like that. But at her parents’ house, things weren’t like that. She didn’t notice the differences in their clothing, her hair, her head covering. But here? She noticed it all. She was the odd man out, and it didn’t sit well.
“I’ll drive you home.” He took her elbow again and started toward the row of buggies. She hated it when he grabbed her like that. Hated it and loved it, all in the same moment. His fingers left little tingling trails of joy, and at the same time her reaction was for nothing. There could never be anything between them.
Why, Lord? Why torture me this way? What lesson do You want me to learn?
“How will Aaron get home?” She tried digging in her feet, but she didn’t want to resist—not that badly anyway. She stumbled along behind him, waiting for his answer.
“He’s a smart man. He’ll figure it out.”
“You’re going to take his buggy?”
“It’s my buggy.”
She couldn’t argue with that. And chances were Aaron would come out with Hannah, see that his ride was gone, realize what had happened, and catch a ride with his intended.
“Don’t you think we should tell someone that we’re leaving?” Sarah maybe.
He stopped. “Do you honestly want to go back in there?”
Leah nodded. “Let’s go.”
* * *
They were halfway home before her words sank in. “You really don’t think you belong with the Amish?” That could be a problem for his plans.
“I left, remember?”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t belong. This is where you grew up.” How could she not belong to that?
“It doesn’t mean anything. Not after you leave.”
He wanted to ask her to explain, but he was afraid that if he did, she would stop answering altogether. “What about Hannah?”
“Hannah’s different.”
He wasn’t sure how, but he wanted to understand. “How is it different for her?”
“She wanted to come back not long after we left, but she heard that Aaron was already courting someone else. She figured that if he could find somebody else so quickly, that maybe he never really loved her to begin with.”
“But he did.”
“That’s right. And she’s never stopped loving him. Now Hannah sees all the wasted time, all the years they could have been together but weren’t. She would walk through fire to be with him.”
Jamie wanted a love like that. He had never really thought about it before. Not until he met Leah Gingerich. “What about you?”
“I like Aaron. I always have. But I’m not walking through anything other than grass for him.”
He swayed and bumped their shoulders together as they rode along. “That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
“So why didn’t you come back?” Had her love also been seeing someone else?
“When Hannah decided not to go back home, well, I couldn’t leave her. I never wanted to jump the fence to begin with. I only did it to help her. And I couldn’t do that if we lived in two different places.”
“I have a feeling that’s not the end of the story.”
She gave a half shrug. “We got into a terrible argument. She disappeared, and that was that.”
“And that’s when you joined the Mennonites.”
“I traveled a bit, went on a few mission trips overseas. That’s when I found the Mennonites.”
“You met them and knew you were home?”
“Sort of.” She stared off at nothing. The sun was about down, and he couldn’t see her face in the fading light. But her tone was wistful, full of wonder and awe. “The Mennonites are special. They are like the Amish, but not. I’m not making any sense, am I?”
“Not much.” He turned the buggy onto the lane that led to her parents’ house. In a few short minutes, they would be there. He would take his buggy to his cabin, and she would get into her car and head back to town.
“So invite me.” The words slipped so easily from his lips.
“What?” She seemed almost as surprised by his words as he was.
“Invite me to an event and let me see how they are.” He wanted to know what was so special about them it could keep her away from her born heritage. Maybe if he saw it, he would start to understand for himself.
“There’s a rock painting event Monday night.”
He stopped, looked in her direction for a moment. She seemed serious enough, but it was starting to get dark. “Rock painting?”
She nodded. “I wasn’t going to go, but we can take Peter with us. That might be good for him.”
“Hold on a minute. What’s a rock painting event?”
“The church is painting Bible verses on rocks to put out for people to find.”
“And people are just going to find them?” He couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept. The road they were traveling was composed of rocks. Rocks and rocks and rocks. How would anyone find a special one with a Bible verse painted on it in all the rocks?
“Well, yeah. I mean, there are groups and individuals who do this all over. They even have sites online to help people find them. Pastor Joel thought that since Englischers are already looking for the rocks, we could use it as part of our ministry.”
“The verses are a message?”
“Right.”
“And that’s all you paint on them?”
“As far as I know, you can paint them however you like, as long as there’s a verse on it.”
“Sounds like fun.” And strangely enough, it did. “Okay,” he said, with more confidence than he felt. “Monday night, we paint rocks.”
Chapter Twelve
How did that backfire on her? She hadn’t had any intentions of inviting Jamie anywhere, and here they were setting a date for their next not-date. She couldn’t date him. She wasn’t a member of the church, but she didn’t know what else to call it other than a date.
She stiffened her resolve. She would just have to keep it all in perspective. She was doing this to show him what her church was all about. This was for Peter, who needed to see that life was still good, fun, and worthy. Plus, it would be beneficial for them all to participate in such a satisfying and uplifting endeavor. It was that and nothing more. A not-date between almost-friends and a little boy who needed hope.