At twelve she’d been a skinny tomboy with freckles and a wayward dimple, neither of which bothered her. At fifteen she’d been self-conscious, avoiding smiling as much as possible and staying out of the sun in hopes her freckles would fade. Since then she had continued changing as she came into the diner every so often. Now, at nineteen, she was a slender beauty who seemed comfortable with herself and apparently liked to tease while working.
“A-am I b-being re-re-re- …” Aden couldn’t manage to get out the word replaced. He could hear it smoothly in his mind, just as a speech therapist once told him to do. Aden had seen more than a few doctors and speech therapists over the years, but they hadn’t been much help. Annie had asked for a baker, and he wanted to ask if he was being replaced, but all he could do was stutter. He wished he hadn’t tried to speak without Roman here to talk for him. But Annie was standing there waiting patiently, so he had to finish his sentence. “… re-replaced?”
“Ah, I finally stumped you with my restaurant slang. A baker isn’t a short-order cook. It’s a—”
Before she could explain herself, Aden grabbed a foil-covered baked potato out of the heated sideboard and placed it on the shelf of the pass-through.
“Potato.” She sounded defeated. “Fine. I didn’t stump you this time. But I will. Just watch me.”
He pointed at his eyes and then to hers, signaling that he would watch to see.
“Ya, I hear you.” She put the potato on a plate and glanced behind him. “You need a bubble dancer.” Annie picked up the plate and left.
He looked over his shoulder and saw a sink full of dishes. A bubble dancer must be a dishwasher.
Mamm carried a tub of dirty plates into the kitchen and set it beside the sink. “It’s three o’clock. Annie’s locking the doors.”
Just as he and Roman did this time every day.
“I can’t stay. There’s a meeting of church leaders at our house tonight, and I haven’t even cooked dinner.”
“Not a p-problem.” He was sure Annie would head out with her, leaving him to clean up from today’s busyness and prepare for tomorrow’s event. He didn’t figure he’d be done before two in the morning, and even then he might not be as prepared for the day’s business as he needed to be, but he’d manage somehow, as long as it gave Roman a chance to do something he really loved.
Annie came to the pass-through. “The last of the customers are ready to pay, Ellen.”
“Okay.” Mamm washed her hands and dried them on a towel. “I’ll ring them up, and then we have to go.”
Annie eyed the stack of dirty dishes and the messy work stations. “I can stay.”
Mamm looked surprised, as if the idea had never crossed her mind. And he was sure it hadn’t. A single Amish man alone in a closed diner with a single Mennonite woman wouldn’t be on anyone’s list of wise ideas. Annie was no longer considered “his little friend,” as Mamm used to refer to her.
Mamm cleared her throat, gaining her composure before she smiled. “No, dear. That’s not a good idea.”
“Ellen, I’m not leaving Aden with this mess. He can take me home after we’re done.” She angled her head. “Unless you don’t want me …”
Aden had to assure her that she’d always be welcome, but it’d take him five minutes to say that, so he settled for a short, to-the-point statement. “Of c-course we d-do.”
Relief eased the concern on her face. “Gut. Then it’s settled.”
“I’m not sure your grandfather will be happy with you staying into the night.”
Annie wrinkled her nose. “Oh, stuff and nonsense, Ellen. He and I practically lived here when David and Roman were injured. Why would he mind now?”
Mamm’s face twisted with emotion. She apparently didn’t like this arrangement, but Aden saw no harm in it. He needed more help than his parents and siblings could give him, and Annie was available.
Aden turned off the stove. “C-call Moses and ask if he m-minds.”
Mamm shook her head. “I’d rather just take her—”
Annie slapped the top of the counter and grinned playfully. “You’re both walking on eggshells. I’ll give him a call to let him know where I am and when I’ll be home. Problem solved.”
Aden could see his Mamm wasn’t convinced, and he understood her concern. As Old Order Amish, Aden’s family couldn’t have electricity in their home or business. But without electricity, government regulators would shut down Zook’s Diner. It didn’t matter that they could do everything using gas or generators. Government codes dictated that they have electricity.
As an Old Order Mennonite, their neighbor Moses Burkholder had the right under his church’s authority to have electricity. So Aden’s grandfather had formed a partnership with Moses years ago.
Aden was the third generation of Zooks who’d always gotten along nicely with Moses, and he’d never do anything to jeopardize their relationship. His Mamm was just being overly cautious.
Moses would have no problem with his granddaughter helping out again in their time of need, would he?
As stiffly as an old woman, Annie walked down the hall toward the lone glow inside an otherwise dark home. Once in the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of her grandfather at the kitchen table. She blinked, trying to keep her eyes open.
The next thing she knew the lights went out. “Better?” Daadi asked.
“Much. My eyes don’t want to work this morning.”
He’d pulled the cord to the glaring overhead lights, leaving only the dim radiance from the bulb over the stove. The aroma of coffee surrounded her, and the bright red numbers on the digital clock said it was seven minutes after four. She rarely went to bed as late as she had last night or got up this early, but Aden had needed her help getting desserts and breads prepared for today.
“I don’t like that you came in after I was asleep. That’s entirely too late.” Daadi lowered the newspaper he’d been reading. “Tell me exactly why you’ve come to visit me.” His directness was why her siblings didn’t like him, but she knew his heart. Trusted in its sincerity above all others.
When she’d arrived three days ago, he’d welcomed her openly and hadn’t even asked how long she planned to stay. But right now she could tell he was disappointed that she’d been out so late last night. Still, his accusing tone hurt.
She shrugged. She didn’t want to put him in the middle of the bad blood between her and Mamm, so it’d be best if he thought she was here of her own free will. And she didn’t want to tell him that Mamm had insisted Annie stay until Mamm decided she could return home—probably for a few weeks. Maybe for months, but Annie had brought only one suitcase of items. “You used to like it when I showed up to see your orchard of cherry trees in bloom.”
“Don’t play me for an old fool, Annie. Not you.” His gravelly voice stood on the edge of anger.
“I needed a break from Mamm.” It wasn’t full disclosure, but it was the truth.
His intense expression eased somewhat. He folded the newspaper and laid it on the table. “What time did you get in last night?”
Yawning, she sat. “Aden brought me home around twelve thirty.”
His nostrils flared, but the rest of his face reminded her of granite.
She reached over and patted his hand before grasping it. “I know. You don’t like that I stayed out so late. I don’t blame you. But like I said when I called, I was as safe as if I were here with you.”
“I doubt that.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle. He wanted to keep her under his wing, while her mother pushed her to spread her wings. Mamm wanted her to date, if not Leon, then others, maybe even lots of others. Seemed to her that the two were as opposite as humanly possible.
“Daadi, you asked me to give Ellen a hand yesterday with whatever she needed. She wasn’t doing laundry, groceries, or meals. She needed assistance at the diner.”
He sighed. “Our Lord knows that, with Ellen’s husband down more than he’s up, she needs help whenever we can give
it. But I never intended for you to leave her property yesterday.”
“Roman’s at his uncle’s, trying to get a generator running.” She explained about the diner needing to feed Mattie’s and Gideon’s families for various meals throughout the week. “The restaurant will be the busiest they’ve been in years.”
“And Roman’s gone.”
“Exactly.”
He rubbed his hand across his freshly shaven face, a habit when he was thinking deeply. Hoping he’d let this go, she got a glass out of the cabinet, went to the refrigerator, and poured some orange juice.
Daadi picked up his folded newspaper and tapped it on the table. “It’s not proper for you to be in a rig with an Amish boy, especially that late at night. It’ll look like you two are seeing each other.”
“I didn’t think about that.” She took a sip of her drink. “But nobody saw us. The roads were deserted. I certainly don’t want to cause any trouble for the Zooks.”
“Or yourself.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
“You should be. Our people won’t like it one iota better than his.”
Some aspects of their religion made little sense to her, but she knew why she and Aden couldn’t be seen together. Old Order Mennonite and Old Order Amish were good neighbors, helpful, kind, and generous, but the boundaries concerning interrelationships were wide and high and made of steel.
Unacceptable.
Inappropriate.
Forbidden.
So much so that a single woman from one group could never be alone with a single man from the other.
She didn’t take this boundary as seriously as Daadi Moses and others like him did, because she believed it was based on prejudices between the two groups. Her relatives often used terms like backwoods to describe the Amish, while the Amish used words like worldly to describe the Mennonites.
But her grandfather was good to the Zooks, and they were good to him. The relationship—both business and personal—worked for both families.
She saw no reason to point out her grandfather’s undercurrent of prejudice. He would argue that his convictions were founded on Scripture, and he’d have chapter and verse to back him up. If she argued with him, he might send her back to her mother … if Mamm would have her.
Besides, she’d never known anyone who wanted to cross that line and probably never would. She couldn’t imagine giving up the modern-day comforts of her Mennonite community, which allowed electricity and phones in the home. She even considered a church building to be a true modern convenience, unlike the Old Order Amish, who had to move furniture out of a house in order to set up the church benches and who prepared a meal afterward, however simple, for hundreds of people. And the thought of living all summer without an air conditioner or a fan in the house was enough to keep anyone from crossing that boundary.
And Old Order Amish people who’d officially joined the faith, like Aden and Roman had, could never get their minds around the idea of leaving their Old Ways and destroying all ties to their family and community in order to have something as frivolous as electricity and a phone in their home.
Daadi Moses wagged his finger at her. “You take care, Annie. Our people will think you’re up to no good if they see you out with a Zook, and his will think the same thing.”
Annie cringed at her grandfather’s tone of disrespect toward the Zooks, but she understood the source of it. The Amish weren’t as moral in their dating practices as the Mennonites. Her people didn’t believe in having a rumschpringe, the period of increased freedom for teens and young adults to find a spouse. Mennonites viewed those relaxed rules for the Amish young people to lead toward potential impurity. And Mennonites didn’t wait until they were preparing for marriage to join their church. In fact, Mennonites had to be members of the church before they could go on a first date, and they couldn’t date anyone but a fellow Mennonite. Annie liked the idea of dating only those who’d already made a commitment to God.
She enfolded his hand with hers, encouraging him to stop pointing a finger at her. “The Zooks are good people who need a helping hand. If you weren’t in the middle of preparing for new chickens to arrive, you’d be helping them out with me, just like we used to do.”
She wanted to tell him that she thought no more of working beside one of the Zook boys now than she did as a child, but that didn’t feel completely honest. There was something different about her feelings for Aden. She wasn’t interested in him as a beau. But she longed to know him better … and to help him in more ways than just serving meals at the diner.
Daadi Moses got up and brought the orange juice to the table, a peace offering of sorts. “A girl can’t afford to have her reputation tarnished. If one of Aden’s parents couldn’t bring you home, you should’ve called me so I could pick you up.”
“It was midnight before we finished everything that needed to be done. Ellen couldn’t stay that late.” She poured more juice. “And you were asleep by then.”
Anger flashed through his eyes. “You and Aden were alone?”
Annie rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, Daadi. You’re starting to sound like Mamm.”
Confusion erased all sternness in his expression. “What do you mean?”
“She thinks every single man is a potential beau for me. It makes me sick. How many people have you wanted to live with for a lifetime?”
The tender side of him that she knew so well finally reflected in his eyes. “Only one. Your Mammi Esther.”
Annie smiled. “No one in the twenty-five years before her or the forty-five years after.” She pointed her finger at him, mimicking what he’d done to her earlier. “I’m no fool, Daadi. Don’t treat me like I am. Not you.”
Daadi eased his callused hand over hers. “What are you trying to talk me into?”
“I just want you to trust my judgment. Like you always have.”
He rubbed his forehead, not looking completely convinced of his decision. “Okay. You can continue helping at the diner.”
She hugged her grandpa, suddenly aware of the excitement pumping through her at the idea of spending a few days with Aden. She’d always managed to get beyond Daadi Moses’s surliness and into the part of his heart where tenderness lived. Seemed reasonable to think she could figure out how to get past Aden’s quietness and into the place where his thoughts flowed as freely as falling cherry blossom petals on a windy day.
Roman pulled the timing chain off the top of the sprocket and wriggled the cam with the small pry bar, trying to remove it from the bottom of the sprocket. Most types of engines had long ago started using timing belts, but not this one. His hands and clothes were covered in black oil, and the air around him smelled of diesel fuel.
Outside the small generator room, his uncle and every worker he could hire were milking cows by hand. They all had their hopes hung on Roman’s being able to fix this ancient piece of machinery. So did he.
His uncle had set up a worktable near Roman and had placed all the tools on it so that no one had to stay with him to hand him the needed items. Being unable to get items out of a toolbox that sat on the floor or on a table of regular height made working by himself impossible. But this setup was helpful. Earlier the tools had been lined up neatly on the tabletop, but now they were in a pile at the corner, where he’d laid each one after using it.
The work of his hands, mixed with the smells and sounds around him, unleashed a sense of well-being. He’d forgotten what it meant to feel like himself. He used to enjoy who he was and what his body could do. But contentment had disappeared along with the use of his legs.
Today, however, he had moments of feeling normal again, a sensation of wholeness he hadn’t realized was missing. He didn’t understand all that was taking place inside him, but he knew it was happening because of the pleasure and satisfaction in taking apart a broken machine and putting it back together as a working unit.
He wished someone could put his body back together again. As useless as that thinking w
as, he couldn’t stop his mind from latching on to that hope every waking moment.
But right now a new hope was taking root, one with a smidgen of real possibility. Maybe when his sister Mary graduated from the eighth grade this spring and could then work during the day, he could get away from the restaurant long enough to take a part-time job as a generator mechanic. But he’d need Aden to travel with him so he could get around, and Aden needed him to be his mouthpiece.
They were both at a disadvantage this week, Aden more than him. Uncle Ernie’s oldest son was able to help Roman get in and out of his wheelchair some. Aden had no one who knew what he was trying to say as well as Roman did.
But if something could be worked out, there was no shortage of Amish farms with generators used for numerous things, from running an air compressor for milking cows to refrigerating the milk until it could be picked up. Some Amish wives used generators to run their wringer washers. A few used them to heat the home or run their refrigerators. He felt confident there was enough work to keep him busy.
“Excuse me?” A female voice interrupted his thoughts, and he dropped the pry bar with a clang.
Roman turned the wheel of his chair to face the doorway.
A young Amish woman smiled at him. “Roman Zook?”
He picked up the cloth from his lap and wiped grime off his hands. “That’s me.”
She actually strutted toward him. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
He studied her face and let his eyes move down her body. She was cute and feisty. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember you if we’d ever met.”
Folding her arms, she narrowed her eyes. “Flirting already. Some things never change, do they?”
The way she ended her sentences with a question seemed familiar. “Marian Lee?”
“Ya.”
“Good grief you’ve changed. Except you’re still asking questions.”
“Am I?”
He laughed. “You’re right. Some things never change.”
She was a year or two younger than he was, and being a neighbor of his uncle’s, she used to come by with her parents when he was here. But he’d never been interested in her. The last time he saw her, he’d been sixteen, and she wasn’t of dating age. But he remembered her folks fretting over her, saying she was as opinionated and strong willed as any man they’d ever met.
The Scent of Cherry Blossoms: A Romance from the Heart of Amish Country Page 4