Annie's Recipe

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Annie's Recipe Page 12

by Lisa Jones Baker


  Levi and I picnicked on a wooden bench in the middle of the rides. It was pretty noisy for conversation, but I enjoyed the ambience and being with him.

  When the moon slipped behind cloud cover, the room became darker. Annie blinked to adjust her eyes. Automatically, she got up and slid the lantern closer to where she sat. She reclaimed her position on the rug. As she put pen to paper, a big yawn escaped her. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she continued her train of thought.

  Throughout the day, one conversation kept replaying in my mind. I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t let it go. But now I know why. Because he told me how he cares for me. He said he could be happy doing anything as long as I was with him.

  For a blissful moment, she gazed up at the stars and the moon. If God could create such an amazing universe, surely He could have Levi’s dad welcomed back into the community. Compared to creating the sun and the moon, wasn’t forgiving Levi’s dad with open arms simple? If only that were to happen, Levi’s entire life would change. And so would hers.

  As she pictured Levi, the corners of her lips tugged into a wide grin. They had discussed so many things in such a short time; it was difficult to process it all.

  Despite the wonderful day, I find myself uneasy. Levi and I passed a mother struggling with two young children. Now I understand why the scene disturbed me. She prompted me to think of my own uncertain future.

  Annie drew in a deep, uneasy breath and rested the journal and pen on her thighs. She stretched her legs and pressed the palms of her hands on the thick, soft rug. Why the uncertainty? She wasn’t sure. She’d always known her goal in life was to have children. To raise a family. To work side by side with her husband. The typical Amish role of a woman. In fact, she’d never really considered other options. But right now, there was a problem. Adjusting to her writing position, she wrote again.

  I try to picture myself with little ones, but I can’t. Why not?

  She tapped the end of her pen against the paper and pressed her lips together thoughtfully. Then took a deep breath. There. At least she’d written it down. Without hesitation, she continued her train of thought.

  Raising a family is what I’ve most looked forward to. In fact, I planned to save my most special things in my hope chest to share with my children. But today I realized kids aren’t first and foremost on my list for my future.

  A surprised sigh escaped her lips.

  The most important part of a family, to me, is a husband I truly love and respect. A man I can’t live without.

  That admission made her heart skip a beat. This was the first time she’d recognized that. Uncertainty trickled down her spine while she tried for words to better explain this change in philosophy.

  My parents tell me getting married isn’t about having that crazy, wonderful feeling I’ve read about in the pit of my stomach. To them, marriage is simply about growing old with someone you can count on to help with chores. With the kids. Someone who’s there when you need a hand.

  Annie took in the moonbeam that had slightly shifted on the floor. Salty tears stung her eyes and she blinked. Couldn’t there be more to life? Was she expecting the impossible? She was a dreamer, after all. Or so she’d been told.

  Is it wrong to want a man I think about night and day? As much as I want children, I can’t picture them with a man who’s simply dependable.

  Her fingers stiffened and she pressed the pen a little harder. Looking down at her words etched them permanently into her mind.

  Do I want too much? I would love a fairytale marriage like I’ve read about in novels at the library. Someone to float with into the sunset, laughing and talking of wondrous things.

  Pointing her fingertip against her chin, she considered the eligible men in her community and bit her lip. There weren’t many options. Most girls her age already had their eye on someone. Yet no one appealed to her. She couldn’t imagine standing in front of a couple hundred people as Levi’s cousin and Katie had, and acting excited about committing the rest of her life to any of the eligible bachelors. Her stomach ached. Suddenly, what energy she had evaporated.

  I’m not sure who God has planned for me to marry.

  She gave a casual shrug of her shoulders. A half smile of relief tugged at her lips.

  Thank goodness, I don’t have to decide this very moment. I shouldn’t worry about things that are out of my control. I want to cherish each moment. And that’s exactly what I did today. I enjoyed everything! Each moment seemed larger than life. I realize, though, that my happiness wasn’t because of the rides. Or the food.

  It was because I was with Levi.

  She paused, wondering how to write in a few sentences what made him so special.

  No one in my life has made me feel as important and as special as he has. There’s something amazing about the way he treats me. Like everything I say is important. As if no one matters but me. When I’m with him, I reciprocate the way I feel.

  I’ve wondered many times if I’m making too much of this. Here’s proof I’m not: happiness and excitement fill his voice. He shares his inner thoughts with me. And no matter how much I talk, he doesn’t forget anything I’ve told him; that means he pays attention, and he wouldn’t if he didn’t care about me. Most of all, I know I’m important to him by the sacrifices he makes. He asked special permission from my folks to take me to Six Flags. Before getting their approval, he answered so many questions and committed to keeping me safe. But he didn’t stop with that. He bought me blue jeans and tennis shoes. And the price of the ticket and food?

  If she could whistle, she would. The money he’d spent must have been his entire savings.

  But the best part was when Levi told me he could have fun anywhere as long as he was with his favorite person.

  She pushed out a deep, happy breath and looked up at the moonbeam in all its glory.

  I’m his favorite person. When he said it, I teared up. Now that I’ve processed the importance of what he told me, I feel honored. Really, I can’t think of anything that could make me happier. But it’s more than that.

  Annie straightened her back. She looked out her window and searched the sky to consider her thoughts. Longing to figure out what still troubled her.

  If he thinks so highly of me, don’t I have a responsibility to come through for him?

  She pressed her lips together and long moments passed as she contemplated Levi Miller and her reaction to him.

  When Levi actually said those words, I realized how important he is to me, too. I always knew it. But now I acknowledge it. And he is my favorite person. I love being with him, and I’ll miss him terribly for the rest of my life.

  She closed her eyes in agony. The rest of her life seemed a long time to be without her favorite person. Now she knew exactly why the struggling mamma had made her sad. She turned the page of her journal.

  The image of the mamma saddened me because the only person I can picture myself pushing a stroller with is Levi.

  Emotions raced in every direction, creating total chaos in her mind. She pressed the knot in the back of her neck to ease the ache, but it lingered. Just like a headache after the flu.

  It wasn’t easy, but she wrote it.

  He’s English; I’m Amish. But that’s not the main issue. The very church I plan to join has let him down in a way that seems impossible to fix. When he talks about the shunning, I can sense his resentment. That’s when I’m fully reminded that when it comes to religion, we’re on two different teams. I’m not free to choose the man I want. In my heart I know that being with my favorite person forever can’t happen. And that reality is causing me to be unhappy.

  I can never, ever let anyone know how strongly I feel about him. It’s wrong for me to want something I can’t have. And I must nix those dangerous feelings right now. Before they go any further. Maybe it would have been better if he hadn’t come back. If that were the case, there wouldn’t be this turmoil inside me. Yet because of him, I had the be
st time of my life. What on earth is wrong with that? Why should I fear having a great, memorable day with my best friend?

  I know why. It’s because I have a responsibility to my faith. That means adhering to the Ordnung. I heard our pastor say once that respecting your beliefs sometimes means giving up things you really want.

  And right now she was making the biggest sacrifice she’d ever made. But would she be able to do it? I have to. There’s no other option. Her shoulders slumped. She lowered her chin a notch.

  God sent His only son to die on the cross for our sins. When compared to that great sacrifice, what she had to do seemed simple. Yet why was it so difficult?

  She shrugged. A lone tear slid down her cheek.

  Stopping her feelings for Levi wouldn’t be easy. The truth was, she didn’t know if it was possible. The more she tried to solve her dilemma, the clearer reality became.

  Finally, as she decided what she needed to do, Annie also realized why she had such trouble with it. The issue wasn’t about her. It wasn’t about Levi either. The whole crux of the problem had to do with what he did to her heart. She wanted to spend her life with one man. And that very individual was the one person off-limits to her.

  Chapter Eight

  The following morning, a bright ray of sunlight made its way in through the opened two-story window of Old Sam’s barn. A cool breeze coming in pushed a couple of blond hairs out of place. Taking a careful finger, Annie placed them back under her kapp. Ginger whinnied and snorted.

  Annie knew the signals by heart. So did Sam. Grinning, Annie rose from the wooden rocker he had made especially for her and stepped to Ginger, running an affectionate hand over her thick brown mane. “You need attention, don’t you?”

  In response, the horse wagged her long neck and clomped an impatient hoof against the cement. Annie reassured the old gal she loved her. After planting a firm kiss on the dirt-brown face that smelled of straw, Annie returned to her spot.

  Stepping closer to the artist and his project, she took in Old Sam’s passionate expression as he bent over a beautiful oak board and etched lines into wood with great care and detail. Others had attempted to match his uncanny ability to create the very designs that made his work come alive.

  Annie remembered what she’d told Levi about something bad turning into something good. Esther’s passing had resulted in Annie’s close friendship with the hope chest designer and his unique talent. She studied the widower’s face and pressed her lips together thoughtfully. It was the poster visage of wisdom and insightfulness. He’d once told her that every line on his skin represented a lesson in life.

  She trusted Sam to keep what she said in confidence. And she was certain he wouldn’t judge her. She wanted to talk to him about Levi. She couldn’t go to Mamma. And definitely not to Elizabeth. To talk to them would send out unnecessary alarms and cause more worry. Her journal, unfortunately, didn’t offer desperately needed answers.

  She cleared the knot in her throat. “Sam, there’s something I want to ask you.”

  He stopped to raise an inquisitive brow. The lines around his eyes deepened. “By the serious tone in your voice, I’m guessing it’s something important.”

  She drew in a small sigh. “Uh-huh.”

  He blew on the chest lid. Dust particles floated gracefully in the air before settling on the floor. In the background a pair of pigeons fluttered their wings.

  “It’s about Levi Miller and me.”

  * * *

  It was his last night in Arthur. Levi stared out of the bedroom window. Lightning crackled. As he contemplated his day with Annie, he pressed his lips together in deep thought. Emotions hit him from all directions as he recalled details of their time together. Would he ever see her again? Would he come back someday to be with little Jake?

  He gave a slow, sad shake of his head, absorbing every detail about his uncle’s place to store it in his repertoire. The second-story window overlooking the pasture. The gas tanks next to the barn. The black family buggy parked underneath the side extension of the house. The family well.

  In the distance, Pebble Creek loomed. Because of the storm, Levi couldn’t see its mouth. But he could imagine it and smiled. Before the rain had started, he’d watched forty-odd cattle make their way in queues into his uncle’s exceptionally large red barn. He closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the vivid memories that flooded his mind. He pictured the inside of the old barn, which he knew like the back of his hand. He’d spent a lot of time in there, lifting heavy bales of hay. He recalled the long silver feeding trough. Excess hay bales stacked to the ceiling. He knew well where the family horse was quartered and the wall that separated it from the cattle. Aluminum milking pails. Extra feed. The dried ears of corn he and Jake had fed the squirrels.

  He drifted back over ten years. Mornings and afternoons spent working in the yard had been happy times. He by no means regretted growing up Amish. In fact, as he contemplated the entire picture, he came up with many reasons to respect and admire the Plain Faith. At times, he even missed it. He had loved going to school with Annie. The singings.

  He’d never forget the delicious homemade food. It wasn’t as if he didn’t eat well now, but since he’d become English, he’d missed dishes made from scratch. He admitted there was no comparison between the pies at the wedding and the store-bought ones they ate at home. Packaged noodles couldn’t hold a candle to the ones his mom used to make. And Amish soup could beat out any in the English world hands down.

  Right after their move, his mother had cooked as she always had. However, as time went on, she’d come to play an ever larger role in his dad’s quickly growing business. Not only did she keep the books but she ordered materials and checked them off as they came in. He didn’t expect her to bake like she used to; there wasn’t time. Their freezer was filled with instant dinners. Levi didn’t mind, but boy, did he enjoy his aunt’s home-cooked meals.

  As he watched, the rain beating on the roof became more intense. Puddles already had formed in the dirt space between the barn and the old shed. Thunder was now a continuous rumble. Lightning bolts brightened the sky without pause.

  Levi stepped closer to the window for one last glimpse of Pebble Creek. Although the vision was little more than a blur, he drew in a deep, emotional sigh. He knew what it looked like by heart. The creek wound its way through the vacant plot owned by Old Sam. Pebbles at the bottom made the narrow body of water clear; the deepest part was a couple of feet.

  Levi loved how the stream made its lazy way from the mouth, up part of the hill, and back down to the end, where it narrowed and eventually stopped. Tall patches of dead weeds put an end to the flow. The land pulled at his heartstrings. Or was that Annie? Was it possible to separate the two?

  He gave a slow shake of his head. The beautiful land owned by Old Sam had been passed down to him by his great grandparents. To Levi’s knowledge, Sam didn’t intend to sell it; the elderly man enjoyed taking Buddy for walks along the stream. Although Old Sam owned the coveted property, Levi still considered it his and Annie’s. The place had played as large a role in the first ten years of Levi’s life as milking cows. Baling hay. Building houses.

  An unusual sense of calm swept through him as he recalled the times he and Annie had walked the entire length of the property. In the middle, they had bridged their own crossing to make it to the other side.

  Levi’s brief visit here had given him much-needed closure for the early part of his life. Seeing people from his youth had been like going on a pleasant journey back in time. Some good had come from his time here, had provided him some peace of mind.

  He clasped his hands together until his knuckles popped. He tapped the toe of his shoe nervously against the hardwood floor. He was finally home. But he couldn’t live here. He tried to make sense of this awkward situation. How could your home be a place you couldn’t live?

  He slid his hands down far into the deep pockets of his blue jeans and rested his thumbs over the thick seams. He
threw his head back in frustration. He closed his eyes for a moment and Annie’s beautiful face popped into his mind. He took a deep breath to gather his composure.

  Their childhood had been ripped apart. Yet ten years later, they had immediately picked up where they’d left off, as if they’d never been separated. This time, leaving her would be different from before. He planned to stay in touch. I want more. For some reason, he needed her like he needed air. Their friendship was strong. In a strange way, it was as if she was part of him. Perhaps it was because they knew each other so well. He could write her. Call the phone shanty her family shared with the neighbors, too, though he didn’t want to cause a stir in her community.

  It didn’t take much to start talk. He wouldn’t cause her pain. In the Amish world, Annie didn’t have many choices. In the Plain Faith, men and women had set roles. If gossip started about him and Annie, she’d never be able to escape the community’s wrath. He wouldn’t be here to endure it, but she would. He needed to protect her. To do that, he must end their happy relationship.

  A strong bolt of lightning stopped his thoughts. The cracking sound was so loud, he jumped. In a split second, bright orange flames sprang from the barn’s roof. He blinked to make sure he hadn’t imagined the fire.

 

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