The Scent of Cherry Blossoms: A Romance from the Heart of Amish Country

by Cindy Woodsmall

  She’d been fascinating the whole evening. If he were a whole man, he’d be a match for her, a good one. More resentment stirred. He once could’ve moved mountains with an act of his will.

  Now he couldn’t move his own big toe.

  Hoping the medicine would ease his pain and bring sleep, he tried to think about the good parts of tonight. Like her sassy sense of humor. And when he’d arrived in the rig, Marian had come out and climbed into it, so he didn’t have to get out again until he returned to his uncle’s place. But all they could do was ride and talk.

  Even though they’d shared a few good laughs, he had no illusions. She’d dated him because there was no one else to go out with tonight, but she’d probably prefer being alone to going on another buggy-bound date with him.

  He shouldn’t have been excited about tonight. All he’d done was set himself up for more disappointment. After five years one would think he’d have learned by now.

  Suddenly he missed home and working beside Aden. He ached to talk to his brother. Aden always lifted heaviness off Roman’s back, and even when his brother said nothing, which was often, Roman found solace in their closeness.

  His back pain eased, but no pill could relieve the ache inside him. He’d had a fleeting hope that God had a hand in Ernie’s generator woes, putting him in Marian’s path again. Clearly, God just wanted his uncle’s generator running again so the cows could be properly milked.

  Aden turned off the grill. All cooking was done for the day, but the kitchen was stacked with dirty dishes, and he looked forward to a quiet afternoon of working beside Annie.

  He wiped off the work station, putting items in the pantry or refrigerator as he went. When she’d arrived around four that morning, he was tempted to give her the sketch he’d made of her and the cherry orchard. But that seemed forward. Maybe inappropriate. Would it reveal too much of his heart to her?

  After their time alone, walking and talking two nights ago, his mind would not let him rest, so he’d done as he always had when trying to cope with feelings about Annie—he’d pulled out his sketch pad. He’d spent every free minute drawing with lead and colored pencils. Annie’s delicate features filled half the page, and cherry trees in full bloom covered the other half. He hadn’t planned the drawing to turn out that way, but the image had taken on a life of its own as he worked, making Annie appear as if the orchard were a part of her soul.

  It was the best work he’d ever done—subtle yet vibrant with color and detail—but it was folded and shoved into his pants pocket like an unwanted sales receipt.

  “Aden.” Gideon peered into the kitchen from the pass-through. “Do you mind if Mattie and I come back there for a minute?”

  Aden motioned for them. He removed his apron and set it on a nearby work station. Today was Friday, the last day the couple needed the diner to help feed their friends and family from out of town. From the start, Mattie had felt it was important for tradition’s sake that she and her family take over feeding the guests in the customary style during the last three days before the wedding. Aden didn’t doubt she had the energy for it. Both she and Gideon were so happy that the room could not contain their enthusiasm.

  He remembered how miserable Gideon and Mattie had been after they split up three years ago. At the time, Aden thought the breakup made no sense. They had seemed crazy about each other. But they had ended their relationship, and both had moved away from Apple Ridge. Now that Aden knew the whole story, he understood. Gideon had been diagnosed with leukemia, and in his determination to free Mattie from the burden his illness would put on her, he ended their relationship. Without knowing the truth, Mattie moved to Ohio to live with her brother and began a cake shop—Mattie Cakes. And the two stayed apart for three years. After a close brush with death, Gideon began improving. Mattie’s shop burned down, and after she returned to Apple Ridge, she learned the truth. And forgave Gideon.

  In some odd way the story had a few similarities to him and Annie. She’d once lived in Apple Ridge, moved away, and returned to steal his heart. The last time they worked side by side, they were simply friends. Now, almost five years later, she’d returned, and their bond grew stronger with every glance, word, and dream.

  Gideon pushed the swinging door open with the palm of his hand and held it there for Mattie to go first.

  Gideon’s actions had been based in love, especially since he was deathly ill and in isolation for the better part of a year, but maybe relationships weren’t often meant to be practical. By misleading Mattie, Gideon had caused both of them more pain. They were apart three years—almost to the day.

  Mattie grinned. “I can’t thank you enough for helping feed our friends and family this week so the burden of it didn’t land on Mamm. I never expected the kind of service you’ve given us.”

  “Glad we c-could do it.” Aden focused on a song, the music and cadence, and it seemed to help.

  Gideon put his hand on Mattie’s back and rubbed it. “I can’t figure out how you and Annie kept all the orders straight while running both the family-style meals for us and providing for the regular customers, and you were able to serve the meals so smoothly.”

  “S-s-sign language, sort of.”

  Mattie smiled at Gideon. “We used to do that when we were kids. And when Gideon stayed at his grandmother’s, we used flashlights for Morse code, spoke through walkie-talkies, and tied notes to the mane of a horse.”

  “Neither of us knew what the flicking on and off of the flashlight meant.” Gideon chuckled. “But we’d do about anything to stay in contact, even after we’d spent the whole day together.”

  Annie came through the kitchen door with a bin of dirty dishes. Aden’s heart turned a flip, and he understood the overwhelming need to be in touch every waking moment. But the truth was, even if Annie cared for him, as he hoped she did, they faced worse survival odds than Gideon had.

  “A-Annie missed a lot of sleep to help out this week.”

  Mattie peered around Aden toward the sink. “Denki.”

  Annie unloaded the bin and rinsed her hands. “I’ve enjoyed every minute,” she said over her shoulder before turning off the water.

  Aden held out a kitchen towel, and she dried her hands. The sense of comradeship between them felt so right.

  “You two are walking down the aisle next week, right?” Annie asked.

  Mattie glanced up at Gideon, looking the happiest Aden had ever seen her. “Tuesday. I wish we had room for one more guest.”

  “Don’t think a thing about it,” Annie said. “These events are for family and friends. So, where will you live after the wedding?”

  Mattie’s eyes met Gideon’s, and she chuckled. “With his grandmother. She has lots of room.”

  Gideon winked. “Which is exactly where we told our families we’d live when we were just little kids.”

  “Only then,” Mattie said, “our plan was to live on separate floors of the house, me sharing a room with his grandmother. That’s a change in plans I’m sure she appreciates.”

  “No doubt.” Annie smiled.

  Someone from the diner called to Gideon. “Well, we’d better tell the stragglers it’s about closing time here. We just wanted to thank you both.”

  They left, and Aden wished Annie and he had a chance at a happily-ever-after too. But how could they? They’d each taken a vow to stay faithful to their respective churches. It was forbidden for them even to court.

  Annie passed Aden the towel. “I need to get back to work.”

  After she left, Aden finished wiping down the work station, his mind fully on Annie. His mother was at the side door, chatting with numerous Old Order Amish women she’d known her whole life.

  Aden grabbed a wire brush and began scrubbing the grill. He and Annie had enjoyed each other’s company a lot over the years. During her long stay after the accident, they’d shared a special bond—working and praying together as friends during that stressful time while Daed and Roman recuperated. When they discovered
they shared a similar sense of humor, they grew even closer. Every time she’d visited Apple Ridge since that time, his feelings for her had grown stronger. But he’d stood his ground, refusing to give in to the dream of what he wanted most out of life—Annie.

  The bells on the diner door gave a muted jingle. He glanced up and saw Annie. His attention stayed glued to her as she held on to the doorknob while talking to Gideon and Mattie, the last customers left in the restaurant. Annie waved before she locked the door behind them.

  Watching Annie made his heart feel all tingly and vibrant, as if an electric current ran through it. He and Annie would work for two more hours, and then they planned to share a meal he’d make for her. Afterward they’d go for another walk in the cherry tree orchard, this time in the daylight. They might ride horses … if they could do it without being seen.

  He’d never looked forward to anything like he did having time with her.

  His mother snapped her fingers, pulling his attention away from Annie. Mamm had that worried look—the one she had for a full year after Daed and Roman’s accident.

  “What?” He went back to his work, raking the wire brush across the grill.

  “Aden,” she whispered.

  When she said nothing else, he looked up and saw her staring at him. She gestured toward Annie. “Please, Son, tell me I’m not seeing what I think I see.” The desperation in her voice made him cringe. “Look, this doesn’t seem like two old friends working together. You must know that.”

  He hoped and feared his mother was right.

  Before he could say anything else, Annie came through the swinging door. Her cobalt dress made her eyes look more blue than green. With a tub of dirty dishes propped on one hip, she walked two fingers through the air and then flopped her arm to her side.

  He laughed and nodded. Her gesture was part of the sign language they’d started developing last night. Her expressive hands said she was exhausted. With this made-up language they could communicate at any time without words, even across a crowded room. Something he’d enjoyed greatly since the diner opened that morning.

  But the hunger to talk to her was so strong that he pushed beyond his self-consciousness more than he ever had. Unlike Roman, who had no ability to use his legs, Aden could at least use his voice, and now he had someone worthy of the effort it took to get his ideas across. He’d used every form of communication with her since they’d started work at four that morning—singing, signing, and stuttering.

  Mamm walked up to Annie, took the tub of dishes, and set them in the commercial-sized sink. “You’ve been wonderful help, Annie, but I think I should take you home. We’re good here tonight on our own.”

  Annie’s face reflected surprise for a moment. “Oh.” She glanced at Aden, hints of embarrassment reflecting in her delicate features.

  “Mamm. Don’t be r-rude.”

  “I didn’t mean to be.” Mamm seemed hurt, but she shook her head.

  Annie went to the sink and squirted hot water over the dirty dishes. “I was going to make shoofly pies for tomorrow. It’s on the menu, and I mixed the dry ingredients last night for the pie shells and for the crumbs to go in the filling and over the top of the pies.”

  Mamm seemed perplexed, and guilt nibbled at him. He didn’t need to see the fear in her face to know he and Annie were crossing boundaries. The Plain people, Amish or Mennonite, were very clear about those who broke their vow to God concerning the church; it was equal to divorce.

  Even Annie’s parents weren’t divorced. They didn’t live together, but they’d never divorce. Mamm opened her mouth to speak but said nothing. The phone rang, and she quickly headed out of the kitchen and toward the cash register, where it sat.

  Aden wanted to apologize to Annie and assure her that Mamm was only being protective of them, to tell her they were perfectly safe enjoying each other’s company while working … and during the walks they went on after work. But the words jammed inside him, and he didn’t even try to stutter his way through. Matching his silence, Annie loaded the plates and cups in the dishwasher.

  He put the brush down and wiped his hands on a towel before moving next to her. What he’d give to be able to say a sentence without stammering. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Sh-she’s worried.”

  “I noticed.”

  Her answer surprised him. “You did?” When she continued working, he put his fingers under the stream of clean water and flicked sprinkles at her.

  She barely flinched.

  “A-Annie?”

  “You and I both know it’s forbidden to get close to anyone of the opposite gender from another faith. I don’t know about you, but I knelt before God and the church and promised to remain loyal.”

  “A-a-and?”

  She wiped her forehead with her wrist, her hands dripping with water. “That’s all I know, Aden.” She sounded desperate to drop the topic.

  He nudged her with his shoulder and waited for her to look up. “M-me too.” His emotions were everywhere all at once—from friendship to obvious sparks of interest. But how could he really know what he felt after only a few days of getting reacquainted?

  He and Annie just needed a little time to figure things out.

  Or maybe that was the opposite of what they really needed, but it’s what he longed for. It’s what he’d dreamed of for years, but he’d never dared to cross that line. What did she want?

  Mamm walked into the kitchen. “You ready?”

  Annie pursed her lips. “Ya.”

  Aden grabbed the towel off his shoulder and passed it to her.

  She dried her hands and gave the towel back. “Bye, Aden.”

  He wasn’t sure what to do, but he knew if she walked out that door right now, nothing between them would be the same. Roman would return next week, and this time with her would be no more than a memory he’d cling to for the rest of his life.

  Annie followed his Mamm out of the kitchen. The swinging door swooshed back and forth. Water dripped in the sink. Drip. Plop. Drip. Plop. The refrigerator hummed. When he was an old man, water would still drip in sinks. Doors would still swoosh. Refrigerators would still run. And he’d still know that he’d let the only woman who ever mattered, ever would matter, walk out of his life. He’d done his best over the years to keep his distance, to live as he’d been taught. He couldn’t keep doing that. He just couldn’t.

  Aden hurried out of the kitchen, but they’d already left. He went outside, caught off guard by the brightness of the day. He blinked and saw them crossing the parking lot. “Annie!”

  She turned, said something to his mother, and walked back to him.

  He motioned for her to go into the diner, and then he turned to his mother. “W-wait here.”

  Mamm rubbed her forehead. “Ten minutes.”

  Aden wouldn’t need that long, and if Mamm thought she had the right to dictate his life, she was mistaken.

  Annie went inside the diner and leaned against a table, waiting for him to speak.

  “M-meet me t-t-tonight?” His question was direct and needed a one-word answer.

  But she didn’t respond for several moments.

  He waited for her reply.

  At this rate he’d need a lot longer than ten minutes. Maybe years.

  But he understood her hesitation. A positive answer meant they would begin a secret courtship. But how else could they decide what they truly wanted out of this relationship?

  “Aden.” She fiddled with the buttons on her coat. “I … I want that more than you know, but if my people find out, I’ll be set in front of everyone, and if I don’t repent, I’ll be excommunicated. It’s not just me who’ll get hurt but my mother and Daadi Moses too. If my mother hasn’t already borne enough embarrassment to kill her since Daed walked out, our relationship, if discovered, will surely finish the job. Even your mother wants to put space between us.”

  He reached into his pants pocket and passed her the folded paper, hoping it said everything he couldn’t.

&
nbsp; She gasped lightly before she had it fully opened. “Aden.” She traced the various hues he’d sketched with the colored pencils.

  “You’re all I c-can think about.”

  Her eyes met his. “It’s beautiful.” She paused, studying it again. “Okay. I’ll meet you in the cherry tree orchard tonight.”

  Irritability snapped throughout Roman like harsh flicks of a whip in the hands of a crazed animal trainer. It was Friday afternoon, and he hadn’t spoken to Marian since Wednesday night. He couldn’t stand seeing himself as she saw him—too weak to go on a simple date and too uptight to admit it.

  Trying not to think about her, he loosened the generator’s fan belt. He’d repaired and replaced numerous items on the machine, but its real problem was a broken water pump. He unbolted it from its mount and removed it and the attached fan. He placed them on the table and grabbed the putty knife.

  He maneuvered himself as best he could, wishing he could get out of this wheelchair. The more pressure he used to scrape the gasket residue off the mount, the more difficult it became to get positioned right. He set the brake on his wheelchair. Scraped some. Adjusted his chair. Reset the brake. Cleaned another spot. Repositioned his chair. Reset the brake.

  Would this be his lot for the rest of his life? Constant tiny shifts and locking into place to accomplish almost nothing?

  “Knock, knock.” Marian’s voice sent a chill up his spine.

  “Come on in.” He continued his work, hoping he sounded indifferent. There was no way he’d let her know how vulnerable he felt or how disappointed he was in his inability to do something as simple as taking out a girl.

  She made no other noise, so he glanced up.

  Standing at the far end of the table, she studied him. “Need a hand?”

  “Nope.” With the mount finally clean, he shifted from the generator to the worktable. He removed the first of four bolts holding the fan.

  “Is that the water pump you told me about the other night?” She walked closer.

  “Ya.”

  “It doesn’t look broken.”

  He held it up and pointed at the hairline fracture going through the cast iron.