Plain Perfect & Quaker Summer 2 in 1

by Beth Wiseman; Lisa Samson

  David shrugged, but didn’t say anything.

  “Ya, that’s it, isn’t it?”

  “No. That would sound like I was a kid.”

  “You are a kid.”

  Once on the main road, she said, “I think me and your pop are just trying to get to know each other better. Is that okay with you?”

  “Ya, I reckon so.”

  “Sometimes me and your daed might want to spend some time alone, getting to know each other.” She paused. “But it doesn’t mean that I don’t still want to do things with you. Like this—our walk. This is our time to talk. So there will probably be times when it’s just me and your daed, or just you and your daed, or just me and you. See what I mean?”

  “Ya, I know.”

  He seemed to understand. Maybe he just needed to hear it from her. “So, everything is okay?”

  Before David had time to answer, they both heard a blaring noise coming from down the road. As the buggy drew closer, Lillian was surprised to hear music blasting from within it. That certainly wasn’t allowed. As the speeding buggy came frighteningly close to running them over, a frantic boy inside struggled to turn down the music. His blond bangs were slicked back and he was wearing blue jeans and a black T-shirt.

  “Did he steal that buggy?” Lillian asked alarmed. “And what was that he was drinking?”

  David didn’t seem worried. As they watched the boy disappearing down the road, he said, in an envious tone, “That’s Milo Yoder. It’s his rumschpringe.”

  During rumschpringe, the community expected a certain amount of misbehavior from a teenager. But all this? Loud music, blue jeans, and whatever the boy was drinking in the brown bottle?

  “Wonder where he’s going in such a hurry and dressed like that?” she asked, frowning. She thought it tainted the Amish reputation for him to be acting like that.

  “I can’t wait until my rumschpringe!” David said as Milo Yoder’s buggy disappeared completely, leaving only a dusty cloud behind him. “I’m gonna go to the movies, wear Englisch clothes, watch television in town, listen to loud music . . .” He paused. “And smoke cigarettes.”

  “Oh, David, I hope you won’t smoke.” She realized right away that it wasn’t her place to speak to him in such a harsh tone, but the thought of David smoking bothered her. Turning to face him, she asked, “Why would you want to do all those things anyway?”

  “Because you can do all those things during your rumschpringe,” he said sheepishly, as if her tone surprised him. He looked down at the ground and kicked the dirt. “Besides, I bet you’ve done all those things.”

  Ouch. She certainly had. But that was different. David hadn’t been exposed to any of those things, and she didn’t want him to be. She wanted him to stay exactly as he was—free of complications and worldly ways. The outside world could snatch his innocence away before he realized what happened.

  “Yes, I have done all those things,” she answered. “And, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be either.”

  Standing on the side of the road, David pushed back his hat and gave her an inquisitive look.

  “If there’s something you want to ask me, go ahead.” She folded her hands in front of her. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  “Have you ever drunk beer or smoked cigarettes?” His tone was almost demanding, but she’d started it.

  “Ya, I have.” And please, don’t do either one.

  “And I reckon you’ve seen lots of movies,” he hesitated before he went on. “With all kinds of stuff in them.”

  “Ya, I have.”

  “Gone to a shopping mall and hung out with your friends?” “Yep.”

  “Played an instrument?”

  Lillian thought back to her short stint as a flute player while in middle school. Even though she had to give it up when Mom couldn’t afford to buy her a flute of her own, she had loved making music. However, she knew the Old Order Amish community forbid instruments. Music was worldly and contrary to the Amish ways and was said to stir up emotions.

  “I played the flute for a while,” she finally said.

  “Drove a car?” He crossed his arms, his tone still demanding. She should have never instigated this conversation.

  “Yes,” she answered. “But, David . . .” She wanted to tell him what a horrific childhood she’d had and how she wished she could have grown up right here. He wasn’t done, though.

  “Danced to band music?”

  “Ya. I’ve done all those things, David. They may all sound fun and exciting to you, but you don’t understand that—”

  He was quick to interrupt her. “I’m going to do all those things during my rumschpringe!”

  “Well, maybe just be choosy and make wise decisions when you go through your rumschpringe.” Fearing his exposure to the outside world, her emotions spilled out in an unplanned confession of sorts. “I’m sure all those things sound exciting, David. Driving a car, hanging out with your friends, drinking beer, smoking . . . but let me tell you what else can go along with all that fun-sounding stuff.”

  David was hanging on her words.

  “Have you ever woken up and not had any food to eat? Ever slept in a car overnight because you didn’t have a home to sleep in? Has anyone ever pushed you or threatened to beat you up at school? Anyone ever stolen from you? What about a terrible crime; ever witnessed anything like that? Been in a car accident that was so scary you didn’t drive for six months?” She paused. “There is just a lot of bad stuff out there. That’s all I’m saying. I wish I could have grown up here.”

  David wasn’t saying anything. Maybe she’d said too much.

  “I’m sorry. I should have never said all those things,” she said with regret. She sat down on the side of the road in the grass. Slowly he followed her, his eyes begging for answers. “But living here seems to come with an invisible protective barrier that keeps you safe from everything out there.” She waved her hand aimlessly to indicate a far-off place filled with worldly evils. “I told you before, it’s complicated. And where there’s all that stuff you think is so cool, there’s a whole lot of ugliness too. I just don’t want you to go through all that—rumschpringe or not.”

  They sat quietly for a few minutes.

  “I won’t do all those things, Lillian,” he said softly. His big blue eyes were warm and tender, like Samuel’s.

  “Outside of this peaceful, tranquil, wonderful place is a world very different from yours. It might sound fun and intriguing, but trust me—it can steal from you, rob you of all the wonderful qualities that make you special. I just don’t ever want to see that happen.”

  “It’s all right, Lillian. I reckon I don’t need to do all those things.” It was quiet for a while before David said something Lillian felt sure she would remember for the rest of her life.

  With a maturity way beyond his years, and possibly her years, he said, “Pop says when God closes doors, other doors will open. I had to think ’bout that for a while—like if I was in a big room with lots of doors.” He paused. “I reckon sometimes we might not pick the door God woulda picked for us. But I think the door is like a two-way mirror. You best be happy with whatever ya see, no matter which side of the door you’re on.” He turned toward her and smiled. A smile she affectionately returned. “I reckon it’d be better to just try to pick the right door in the first place.”

  He couldn’t have been more right.

  Samuel noticed right away that the boy’s frame of mind seemed much improved after his talk with Lillian. Neither one of them offered up any details, but that was all right. He reckoned they were forming their own special bond.

  Lillian headed home after she filled him in about the barn raising on Saturday. He figured all his kin would be there, so maybe they’d find some time to visit with Lillian there, as opposed to the private shindig they had planned. A barn raising was a whole bunch of work, but a festive occasion just the same.

  He found it a little worrisome that Lillian and Sadie might b
e pursuing a friendship, but he knew Lillian needed some womenfolk as friends. Sadie was a good girl; she’d just never been the one for him.

  It was later that afternoon that his son shared some troublesome news. “Me and Lillian had a real gut talk today,” David said. He settled into a rocker on the front porch next to Samuel.

  “And what did you two have your heads together about?”

  “She’s done a whole bunch of stuff in her life. Sounds like she had a pretty hard time growing up.”

  “Ya,” Samuel said. “But I think she turned out real fine.”

  “Hard to believe she’s smoked cigarettes, drunk beer, seen crimes and all kinds of bad stuff.” David took a swallow of his lemonade, unaware of the can of worms he’d just opened up. “She’s even slept in a car and seen people get beat up.”

  How could she? Had Lillian learned nothing through her studies of the Amish ways? “Come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord.” In her studies of the Ordnung, did she bypass 2 Corinthians 6:17? Samuel wasn’t naïve. He knew the boy would be entitled to a rumschpringe in a few years, just as he had been. Along with that would come some misbehaving as he took a peek at the outside world. It wasn’t Lillian’s place to encourage such behavior, though. Those kinds of things were best not talked about. And it sure wasn’t her place to expose his son to behaviors Samuel wanted him to have no part of.

  His blood was pumping and bubbling to a boil. David’s next comment sent it rushing through his veins like whitewater rapids.

  “I’m real glad she told me all about her times in the Englisch world, about all the things she’s done. Now I know what to do when my rumschpringe comes ’round.” He placed his lemonade on the table between them. “I’m gonna go get washed up before we head to Lillian’s for Sunday supper. She always makes something extra gut on Sunday.”

  Samuel nodded. They’d been having supper mostly twice a week with Lillian—Wednesdays and Sundays. Tonight, if it was up to him, they wouldn’t be going anywhere for supper. He planned to tell Lillian exactly how he felt about exposing his son to her worldly past. It wasn’t his way—to get all stirred up about things. It wasn’t proper. But she’d crossed the line when she shared her colorful past with his son. Smoking cigarettes, drinking beer? What was she thinking?

  15

  “ANSWER THE PHONE, MOM,” LILLIAN WHISPERED. SOME-how she and Grandma had let the pantry run dry of flour, so this quick trip to town was a good opportunity to call her mother. She needed to hurry, though. Samuel and David would be heading over for supper soon.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Lillian! How are things going?”

  “Everything is fine. Did you tell Grandpa you were coming here on Wednesday?” Might as well get to the point.

  “Yes, I did. And I’m really going to try, Lillian.”

  “Mom! What do you mean, you’re going to try?”

  “Well, Lillian, I do have a job. Hopefully it will work out where I can come.”

  “What made you change your mind? I thought you didn’t want to come for a visit?”

  “I just . . .” She paused. “I just need to see my parents. And when your grandpa asked me to come, well, it was just hearing his voice, I guess. I know he’s sick, and I didn’t want to disappoint him. He suggested Wednesday. Where are you calling me from? I’ve tried to call you on your cell phone several times.”

  “I don’t have my cell phone any more. I’m calling you from a pay phone in town. Mom, Grandpa is counting on you coming. He will be very upset if you don’t show up. You were so adamant with me on the phone the other day about not coming. Don’t disappoint him, Mom.”

  “Don’t take that tone with me, Lillian. I will do the best I can. I have to get someone to cover for me at work and see if I can get a flight.”

  “Mother, you should have thought about all that before you told Grandpa you’re coming.”

  “I’m going to do the best I can, Lillian. That’s all I can do.” “You’re not coming.” She wanted to reach through the phone line and—well, that wasn’t the Amish way, so she tried to toss the thought.

  “I don’t know, Lillian. I’ll try. I’d like to. Things with Paul aren’t going very well either. I’m not sure if it’s a good time to leave.”

  “I have to go, Mom.”

  “Wait, Lillian. Tell me about your Amish man. How are Grandma and Grandpa?”

  “Come to Lancaster County and see for yourself.” She slammed the phone down, knowing again that her behavior was not reflective of her newfound faith. Grandpa was going to be heartbroken.

  Grandpa was sitting at the kitchen table when Lillian returned. Grandma was placing a loaf of homemade bread on the table. “Sorry it took so long,” she said, checking on her beef stew she’d left simmering on the wood-burning oven. “I wanted to call Mom.” She turned around and looked at her grandpa. “Grandpa, I’m not sure Mom’s going to make it.” She thought it best to prepare him.

  “She’ll be here,” he said confidently. “Sarah Jane will be here on Wednesday.”

  “Jonas, did you hear Lillian?” Exasperated, Grandma evidently doubted the arrival of her daughter on Wednesday as well. “Sarah Jane might not make it.”

  Grandpa rattled off a round of Pennsylvania Deitsch Lillian didn’t understand, but Grandma scowled, walked to him, and poked him in the arm.

  “We don’t talk like that in this haus, Jonas.” She leaned down closer to him. “Sarah Jane has not been to this house in seventeen years. You needn’t go gettin’ your hopes up. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Grandma was on the same page as Lillian.

  “Lilly, what will you be cookin’ for your mamm on Wednesday?” Grandpa questioned, obviously pretending he hadn’t heard a word either of them said.

  “I’ll come up with something gut, Grandpa.”

  “Where’s Samuel and the boy? I’m hungry,” he belted out. Grandma rolled her eyes.

  Samuel and David arrived about ten minutes late. Uncharacteristic. They were always on time. Samuel looked tired and bothered about something throughout the entire meal.

  “Didn’t you like the stew?” Lillian asked, noticing that although everyone else was about finished, Samuel still had quite a bit in his bowl.

  “The stew was fine. Can I talk to you on the porch, Lillian?”

  Something was wrong. Everyone at the table shot Samuel a questioning look.

  “Ya,” she whispered softly. “Do you want some peach pie first?”

  “No, danki,” he said, standing up.

  This isn’t good. Why was he so bothered? Everything was fine when she left his house earlier.

  “You kids run along,” Grandpa said. “David, I’ve been needin’ me a chess partner for a long while. Your grandma won’t play.”

  “Jonas, someone has to keep this house running,” Grandma said. She stood up and began to clear the dishes.

  “I’ll help you in a minute.” Lillian stood up to follow Samuel to the door.

  “No, no. You go on. I’ve got it,” Grandma replied.

  “Let’s be headin’ into the den, David. A good game of chess will help settle our full bellies.” Grandpa shuffled out of the kitchen.

  Out on the porch, Samuel didn’t waste any time. “I don’t know what you were thinkin’ when you told my boy all the things you did in your world. I don’t want him to know anything about your world. Bad enough he witnessed that baremlich scene here with your friend, Rickie. I’m not sure I want you around him.” He knew his eyes were ablaze and his tone sharp.

  Instantly, her eyes glassed over. She looked shattered. Samuel realized right away he should have eased into the conversation, or at least toned it down a notch.

  “What?” she asked. Her legs appeared wobbly before she folded into one of the rockers. Samuel took a seat in the other rocker.

  “I don’t want David exposed to your world, Lillian.” He shook his head, but could hardly look at her.

  “B
ut this is my world.” Her voice was cracking. This was harder than he’d reckoned it would be.

  “But your worldly ways are spilling into our ways, Lillian. What were you thinkin’ when you told David about drinking and smoking?” He paused. “And all that other stuff you told him about life in the city? The boy needn’t be hearing any such things. It will be right hard enough when he has his rumschpringe. He doesn’t need any encouragement from you to try all those things.”

  Her hands were on either side of her cheeks and her eyes were all watered up. His first instinct was to go wrap his arms around her, but that wasn’t going to help things. Refocusing on what was best for David, Samuel knew he couldn’t let her reaction muddle his thinking.

  “But I don’t want him to do any of those things. The reason I—” Her voice was still cracking, but he didn’t want to hear her excuses.

  “There is no reason for any of it, Lillian. And, I’m sorry to say, I just would rather you not spend so much time with David.”

  “Samuel, you don’t mean that. You and David have become like my family.”

  He knew she was crying, so he just avoided looking at her. Didn’t she realize his heart was breaking too? But he had to do what was best for the boy.

  “Don’t you care about me?” She sounded pitiful. He wasn’t sure he could respond without his own voice breaking up.

  “Ya,” he said softly, forcing himself to look down at the ground and not at her.

  “Samuel,” she reached for his hand, and it took every bit of his might to pull away from her.

  “I’m gonna go, Lillian. And I think it’s best if me and David stop comin’ for supper.” He stood up, but this time his eyes were drawn to hers like a magnet. He had trouble looking away, but he did. If he didn’t go now, he’d never be able to.

  She was all curled up in the rocker crying hard. Walking away from her would be difficult.

  “Samuel, please . . .”

  “I’m real sorry, Lillian, that you’re hurtin’.”

  “Just let me explain.”