Amish Romance BOXED Set: Amish Days: Sally's Story (Hollybrook Amish Romance)

by Brenda Maxfield

  I flipped it open and it landed on Luke 6:21: Blessed are ye that hunger now: for ye shall be filled. Blessed are ye that weep now: for ye shall laugh. I did a double-take.

  Evidently, God had a sense of humor.

  ****

  I’d already learned how to stay invisible. After I broke up with Bryan and Aunt Ruth forced me to go to school, I pulled into myself and spoke to no one. It had worked like magic. No one talked to me; no one paid any attention at all. It worked in Marton, too. Mostly. I couldn’t stop some people from gawking at the “new girl,” but my lack of eye contact kept them at a safe distance.

  Every evening when Dad came home from his mill job, he eagerly asked me how my day had gone. And every day, I shrugged in response and said, “Fine.”

  Jack, on the other hand, surprised me. He actually connected with some guy named Forrest and they even chatted on the phone. One Friday, I overheard Jack making plans to go to a bike show.

  It annoyed me.

  It felt like he was being disloyal somehow, by finding a friend—by finding any reason to want to stay. It wasn’t even Jack’s style to make an effort. I resented him for it, even though I knew I was being grossly unfair.

  Part of my daily ritual was praying hard over the mailbox, hoping against hope that a letter for me would arrive. The day before I had posted a letter to Ann, and I’d done my best to sound cheerful. But it was nearly two weeks before I heard from anyone.

  And then the letter was from my cousin Mary.

  I crushed the envelope against my chest and rushed inside to my room to read it. My fingers shook and I fumbled to tear the envelope open. Mary had written on pale green stationery.

  Dear Sally,

  Surprised to hear from me? Especially since you promised to write all of us? It’s been over a week and Ann is in despair that she hasn’t heard a thing from you.

  Of course, I know you wrote Hope, which is how I got your address. Hope is composing some huge daily journal letter for you. I haven’t the patience for such a long effort.

  I decided to ignore the fact that you’ve only written to her so far. I figure you might want to hear some of the news.

  Everyone is fine. (Except Ann, who gets teary-eyed over everything.) Hope is doing well. Her condition is becoming obvious, and I’ve helped her sew some new clothes for the coming months.

  Abbie and Melly were terribly disappointed that you’d left. You remember them, right? Two of Zeke’s little sisters. They came looking for you and wanted you to play foursquare or some such foolishness. And their brother, Zeke. I don’t know if you really knew him, but I think he’s secretly courting Josie. You remember my friend, Josie?

  My hands fell to my lap, and my fingers tightened on the stationery ripping a corner of the letter. My breathing stopped.

  Zeke? And Josie?

  I bit my lips until a metallic taste filled my mouth.

  Of course, I remembered Josie. She was gorgeous. And Amish. And there in Hollybrook.

  I jumped off my bed and began to pace. I needed to go home. I needed to go back to Hollybrook immediately. I needed to tell Zeke that as soon as Jack got older, I would return.

  I stopped pacing.

  Maybe I wouldn’t have to wait until Jack grew up. He had a friend here. He could stay with Dad, and I could go home.

  I dashed from my room, still clasping the letter. Jack was in the kitchen pouring a glass of orange juice.

  “What’s with you?” he asked, taking a gulp of juice.

  “Jack, do you like it here?” My words tumbled over themselves.

  He eyed me with suspicion and set his glass on the counter. “Why?”

  “I’m just wondering.”

  “I want to go back to Ohio.”

  “But Jack, you do have a friend here. That Forrest guy. I’ve heard you talking.”

  He put both hands on the counter, and his eyes narrowed. “So.”

  “You’d be happy staying here, right?”

  “I don’t see much choice. Do you?”

  “But you’re not going to run again, are you?” I asked.

  His lips tightened, and he tipped his head to the side, regarding me.

  I rushed to him and grabbed his arm. “You aren’t, are you?”

  He shook his arm loose from my grip. “Lay off, will you? What’s wrong with you?”

  I took a deep breath. What was I doing? Hoping to pawn my little brother permanently off on my dad? Hoping I wouldn’t have to take any responsibility for him? I moved to the table and sank onto one of the vinyl-covered chairs. I wasn’t a good person. I’d thought living with the Amish had changed me, made me better. Turned out, I was fooling myself. I was still the same selfish Sally Jones. Heat rose up my neck, and I felt my face go red.

  Jack walked to me. “I don’t know.” His words were low and quiet.

  “You don’t know what?”

  “Whether I’m going to run.”

  I took his hand loosely in mine. “Please, Jack. Don’t run again. It’s too scary. You could get hurt.”

  “I didn’t get hurt last time.”

  “Please, Jack.”

  He took his hand from my grasp and sat opposite me. “Can’t we go back? Do we have to stay here?”

  “Like you said, we don’t have much choice.” My mind was spinning. Maybe Dad would let me visit Hollybrook. Just for a week or so. Then I could clear things up with Zeke.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled. Had Zeke forgotten me so quickly? I felt sure he had cared for me. I felt sure he would have wanted me to stay. Maybe the old saying was true—out of sight, out of mind.

  Then why isn’t he out of my mind? I remembered how he’d looked that last night, during our last conversation—before I even knew I had to leave. I remembered how his blue eyes flashed first with hope that we could have a relationship and then with resignation when I told him I had to take care of Jack. I remembered how his blond hair stuck out from under his straw hat, curling every which way. I remembered how his profile looked so strong and solid.

  I remembered how I felt both safe and completely unsteady whenever he was near.

  I rose from the table and reached out to squeeze my brother’s shoulder. “Just don’t run,” I whispered and went back to my room. I sat on the bed, took a deep breath, and finished reading Mary’s letter.

  I got another market for my goat milk. My goats aren’t producing much yet, but my business is growing. Josiah is thinking about how I might expand.

  What is it like there? Do you have your own car? Is it true that everyone just goes to the mall and shops? What do you buy? I’ve not been to a mall. Is it exciting?

  I must go. Everyone misses you.

  Your cousin,

  Mary

  So that was a big reason she had written—to find out all about my life here. To learn as much as she could about the Englischer’s life. I lay back on my pillow and stared at the ceiling. I would trade places with Mary in a flash.

  Zeke. Zeke. Zeke.

  I sprang from my bed and grabbed my tablet off the desk. I was being ridiculous. If I wanted to write to Zeke, then I should write. I could send his letter to Hope and she could deliver it for me. I daren’t send it to the Zook’s house directly. What would they think of me writing so brazenly?

  Dear Zeke,

  I’m here in Washington now. It rains a lot, but the evergreens are lovely. So different from Indiana. My dad’s house is small but fine for the three of us. I miss farm life, though.

  How are your crops? I imagine the corn is knee-high by now.

  I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you I was leaving. It happened in a rush. I’ve told my dad that I want to return to Indiana as soon as possible.

  How are Abbie and Melly? Please tell them I would love to play foursquare when I return.

  I chewed on the end of my pen. Did I dare write something more personal? How should I close the letter? And was I leading him on acting like my return was certain?

  But if I didn’
t do something, he and Josie would become betrothed.

  I put my hand to my mouth. Would a mere letter prevent that? A gnawing pain moved through my gut, and I hugged myself around the stomach.

  I had to go back.

  I signed the letter with Your Friend, Sally. I posted it to Hope and slipped in a note asking if she’d make sure Zeke got it. Hope was going to wonder; I knew that. She had no idea of my feelings for Zeke, but she would deliver the letter as I asked.

  I hurried to the kitchen and made spaghetti and sauce, using cans of tomato paste and a package of noodles I found in the pantry. What a switch from Amish meals. Aunt Ruth wouldn’t be caught dead using store-bought sauce and factory-made noodles. I smiled just thinking of her reaction.

  Dad walked in at precisely five-thirty, just as he did every working day. He nodded to me in greeting and set his lunch box on the counter. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose.

  “How was your day?” he asked, replacing his glasses.

  “Fine.”

  “Good. Where’s Jack?”

  “In his room. I’ll get him.”

  Dad went to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. I watched him, working up my nerve. He glanced at me. “Will you call him to the table? I’m mighty hungry.”

  “First, can I talk to you?”

  He raised his eyebrows and a contented look made his tired features relax. “Why certainly, Sally. You can always talk to me.”

  I tried to ignore his obvious pleasure. I knew it would be short-lived when I continued.

  “Shall we sit in the living room for a bit?” he asked.

  I turned both burners down to their lowest settings, and we went into the living room. He sat on the couch and patted the spot beside him. I sat there.

  “What is it?”

  “Uh …well, I was wondering something.” I didn’t realize it would be so hard to bring up. I didn’t realize I would dread hurting his feelings.

  “You can tell me anything.”

  “Can I go back?” I blurted.

  Dad flinched, and his shoulders visibly stiffened. “Sally, we had a deal.”

  “But I’m not going to be eighteen for months and months.”

  “You’ve hardly given it a chance here. Is it really so bad?” He looked like he was bracing himself.

  “No. No, it’s not.”

  He breathed again.

  “Dad, I don’t belong here. I belong there.” As the words came forth, I was never so sure of anything in my life.

  “That’s not our deal.” He stood and looked down at me. “I’m sorry, Sally. But you haven’t given it enough time.”

  I jumped off the couch and faced him. “I don’t need to give it time. I want to go home.”

  “This is your home now.” He blew out a breath and a look of sadness spread over his face. “I’m not trying to be mean.”

  I blinked back the tears. “But that’s the outcome, isn’t it?”

  He reached out to touch me, but I stepped away.

  “Please, Sally, don’t be like this.”

  “Can I visit then? Can I go for a long weekend at least?” My mind raced through the coming dates, figuring out which Sunday would be a preaching Sunday when I’d have the best chance of seeing Zeke.

  “No. It’s too soon,” Dad said. He turned from me and went into the kitchen, calling Jack to the table.

  I swallowed the bitterness that threatened to lodge in my throat and sent up a prayer for patience. And ideas. I went to the stove to dish up dinner. Dad sat at the table looking completely ill at ease.

  I’m not finished, I mentally said to him. This isn’t over.

  I set the noodles and sauce on the table and pulled out my chair to sit.

  Three

  Another week passed, and I had made no further progress on my plan to visit Hollybrook. I needed money, and quite a bit of it, to get across the country. Mom’s death benefits for Jack and me went to Dad now. I knew he squirreled the money away in the bank for our college expenses, and I didn’t know how to get to it.

  On Friday, I went to check the mailbox as usual. I reached in and pulled out a letter addressed to me in an unfamiliar hand. There was no return address on the envelope. I ripped the envelope open right there and glanced to the bottom of the letter. Zeke!

  A surge of joy roared through me, and I raced inside the house, slamming the front door behind me. I hurried to my room and perched breathlessly on the bed. My hands shook as I smoothed the letter open on my lap.

  Dear Sally,

  I was surprised to get your letter. Truth be told, surprised and a bit pleased. It sounds like things are going well for you in Washington.

  You are right, the corn is knee-high and growing taller every day. The Farmer’s Almanac forecasts a good year for crops. There should be plenty of water and the temperatures are supposed to average in the eighties even through the hottest months. It’s humid this week. Unusually so for this time of year.

  Do you truly plan to return to Indiana? And if you do, won’t it be for a short stay only? I know you feel responsible for Jack. Has anything changed on that front?

  You understand how things work in our community. I stand to inherit some acreage, but only when I have my own family.

  I hesitate to write too much. When we last spoke, I thought we closed up the possibility of anything between us. That was another reason for my surprise at your letter.

  But still, I was happy to hear from you. Perhaps we can be friends as you suggested.

  Your friend,

  Zeke

  I pressed the creased paper to my face and inhaled deeply, trying to catch some scent of Zeke. I missed his smell of earth and crops and country air. I closed my eyes. I missed the way his hat sat a bit crooked on his head. I missed the way his blond hair stuck out in curly disarray. I missed his easy walk and the way he moved with smooth confidence. I missed the rugged yet gentle aura he radiated. I missed the gaze of his startling blue eyes that reached inside my soul.

  I missed him. Everything about him.

  I glanced at my cell phone and wished I could hear his voice, his laughter, his teasing tone when he claimed to have “just happened” to pass by when the school bus dropped me off by the side of the road.

  Yet even if I called the nearest phone shanty next to his family’s farm, there was no guarantee anyone would answer. And if they did, what would I say? Nothing had changed since I left. It was still forbidden to talk on the phone except for business or emergencies.

  I picked up my phone and ran my finger over its smooth screen. If I became Amish, this would be one of my first belongings to go. Would I be all right with that?

  I pulled my Bible off my bedside and flipped to the New Testament. I read a few verses in the book of John. Since coming to Dad’s, I’d been reading more and more every evening. It was comforting and made me feel connected not only to God but to my Amish family and friends. But right then, my mind wouldn’t cooperate. I realized that I might as well give in, so I moved to my desk chair and ripped a piece of paper from my tablet.

  Dear Zeke,

  Thank you for your letter. I was so happy to receive it. I’m glad you haven’t forgotten me. I could never forget you.

  I gave an exasperated sigh and scribbled out the last line. What was I thinking? I couldn’t write something so personal. I got out another sheet of paper and began again.

  Dear Zeke,

  Thank you for your letter. I was so happy to receive it. I’m glad your crops are doing well. Are you courting Josie?????

  I jumped off the chair and started pacing. Was he? Were Zeke and Josie an item now? I circled back to my desk and picked up the paper. I stared at it, my mind racing to all sorts of unacceptable conclusions.

  I. Had. To. Go. Back.

  I wadded up the letter and tossed it in the trash. Then I went out to the living room to wait for Dad. He would be a bit late as he planned to pick up pizza on his way home. I glanced at the clock on
the wall. Already close to six.

  I tapped my foot and worked to keep myself calm.

  “Where’s Dad?” Jack asked. He plopped down on the couch beside me. “What’s with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  He leaned closer, staring at my face. “Something’s up.”

  I gazed through the large front window. The sky was thick and overcast, which seemed to be its normal state in Marton.

  Jack nudged me with his shoulder. “Why are you so nervous? What’d you do?”

  I got up from the couch and stood in the center of the room. “Nothing.”

  Jack shrugged. “Whatever.” He got up and wandered into the kitchen. I heard the fridge door open and shut. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Dad’s getting pizza. Remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  He rambled back into the living room. His eyes narrowed. “Are you going out on a date or something?”

  My chest tightened. “Why would I?”

  “It’s Friday night and you’re acting all nervous. You used to go out.”

  “Well, I don’t anymore.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Man, you’re crabby.”

  I took a deep breath. “Sorry.”

  “You miss it, right?”

  I walked to the window and fingered the slightly wrinkled curtains. “Miss what?”

  “All that Amish stuff.”

  I turned to him. “It’s not stuff.”

  “I know you want to be one of them.”

  “We’re half Amish, you know.”

  He blew out his breath. “Yeah, right. Like Mom claimed that.”

  “Still, we are half Amish.”

  Jack stood up. “But you want to be full Amish.”

  I drew deep within myself to paste on a pleasant smile. “Oh, maybe someday. But we both have to grow up first.”

  “You mean I have to grow up.”

  I shrugged.

  He walked over to me. “I told you that you didn’t have to be with me. I was okay in Ohio by myself.”

  I sighed and put my hand on his arm. “That’s all changed now anyway. We’re here. It’s not so bad, right?”