Always Close to Home

by Jerry S. Eicher

  “Yah, I know so!” Clare’s voice was sharp.

  Laura looked away and pressed back her tears. Why was there such opposition? Mamm wanted an end to her relationship with John. John’s mamm was angling for the same thing, and now Clare didn’t like the comfort and hope Wendell had offered.

  Laura stilled the protest inside of her. Bitter words were never right.

  “I know that nothing makes sense right now,” Clare said. “I’m sorry if I was a little harsh. In my heart I could wish that I knew the Lord’s will and ask a miracle of Him, but I don’t think that would be right, Laura. That’s all I’m trying to say. But I also know that it’s hard not to hope for something like that.”

  After a moment, Clare leaned over to give Laura a hug. “We’ll have to hang together, okay? We must allow this to remain in the Lord’s hand. Miracles are best left to the Lord’s will.”

  Laura smiled but remained silent. She didn’t wish to argue, but she would not let go of the hope in her heart. The Lord reigned on His throne even in the middle of man’s chaos. She knew that. But why could she not ask for a miracle anyway? There was no wrong in that. If the Lord said no, she would submit, but she would ask while hope remained. Wendell might be false in his sympathies, but the Lord was true. She would never stop believing that.

  Chapter Ten

  Teacher Nancy hid behind her living room drapes to peer into the darkness outside. There were no headlights on the road, and she hoped there wouldn’t be. She had told Charles to park well down on Ward Road and to walk in. Nancy took another long look out the window before she moved away and began to pace the hardwood floor again. This was madness, pure foolishness, and yet the idea had made perfect sense earlier. What if she invited Charles to her own home for a meal? Perhaps he would see how impossible their situation was and would vanish from her life. He would see that they lived worlds apart and could never come together.

  This was desperation, of course, but she couldn’t think of another way out. She had already told Charles, “I can’t see you again! I already face enough questions from Deacon William with what happened at the barn-raising. I can’t have your people recognizing me in public like that.”

  Her plea had been passionate, but her heart hadn’t been in the words—and Charles knew it. He no doubt also suspected that love for him was blossoming in Nancy’s heart. Not since her relationship with Yost Mast all those years ago had she been so desperately in love. Now she had fallen for a man unavailable to her by all the laws of her religion—an Englisha man. She shouldn’t have spoken with him the day he had visited the schoolhouse, but the look in his eyes, their blueness, the sorrow that lingered from his own loss, had all been there in that first glance. What she had seen since had only deepened her respect and love for the Englisha man.

  Nancy paused in front of the drapes to draw them together as fearful thoughts raced through her mind. Deacon William might even drive in with his buggy tonight. But was that likely? The deacon had seemed satisfied with her answers on the evening of the barn-raising. His only instructions had been, “Don’t learn any more medical stuff from the Englisha, Nancy.”

  The deacon hadn’t imagined the existence of Charles in his wildest dreams, but neither had Nancy. All of which would change quickly enough if she was caught tonight entertaining an Englisha man with supper in her house.

  Nancy jumped when a soft knock came on the back door. She crept through the small house and her hands trembled as she pulled open the door. Charles’s lengthy frame was silhouetted against the stars on the small stoop.

  “Am I welcome?” his soft voice teased.

  “Come.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.

  “So this is an Amish home,” Charles said, looking around.

  “Yah, of course,” she answered, taking his hand and leading the way into the living room.

  “An Amish home,” Charles repeated, glancing at the kerosene lamp on the table.

  “Yah, I wanted you to see how we live. How I live.” Nancy stumbled over the words, but got them out.

  Charles chuckled. “The London blackout is more like it. It’s dim in here.”

  Nancy didn’t answer. She knew about the famous London blackout, but she probably wasn’t supposed to know—at least according to Deacon William. But this wasn’t entirely her fault. She had once planned to wed Yost Mast and raise a family full of kinner with him, not spend her life with her nose in book after book.

  “I didn’t offend you, did I?” Charles asked.

  “Of course not. Come, I have the food ready.” She took his hand again.

  She had refused to settle for second best after the relationship with Yost had ended. That part of this evening was her fault. She could have married an Amish man a long time ago, but she had turned down all suitors. Now nature had struck back over her refusal to bow. There could be no other explanation.

  As she led him into the small dining room, Charles’s gaze swept over the round table with its silverware set out, but no food in sight. “I thought this invitation was for a meal,” he teased again.

  Nancy let go of his hand. “Just wait. I have everything on the stove, since I didn’t know exactly when you would arrive. And the drapes are drawn in case someone stops by unexpectedly. I guess I’ll have time to stick you in the closet.” She attempted a smile.

  Charles chuckled again. “This is the London blackout, but it’s okay. I just didn’t expect…”

  Nancy nodded. “That’s really my point. See now how impossible it is? We can’t…”

  He stopped her. “I love you, Nancy. You know I do. I never went looking for this, but we must not tell God no when He says yes.”

  “How can you say it was God who brought us together?” she gasped.

  Charles smiled. “Surely you believe we were led together by a divine hand. How else do you explain the…” Charles glanced at the kerosene lamp and took Nancy’s hand. “The unlikeliness of you and me meeting as we did…at just the right time, at just the right place so we could be alone and speak? You are just the right woman for me, Nancy. I firmly believe God is in this. He has given me love again to comfort my heart after the loss of Nichole.”

  Nancy changed the subject and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll get the food on,” she said. “I know you’re hungry.”

  Charles held tight to her hand. “I’m coming to help,” he said, and she held on to his fingers to lead him into the kitchen. By the dim light of the kerosene lamp Nancy lifted the lids on the prepared dishes.

  “A plate and a spoon for tasting?” Nancy motioned toward the utensil drawer.

  Charles disappeared from sight for a moment, and she reached for the spoon when he came back.

  “No, let me,” he said, dipping out a small portion and holding the spoon to her mouth. Nancy gripped his arm above the spoon handle and sipped.

  “How is it?” he asked.

  “I can’t taste anything,” she managed.

  He smiled. “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  He dipped the spoon back in the pot and moved it to his lips. “Delicious,” he proclaimed. “Absolutely delicious!”

  “Oh, Charles,” she whispered.

  “But you already knew that,” he said with a grin.

  She looked into his eyes briefly with an urge to tell him how much she loved him, but the words wouldn’t come.

  He stared down at the large soup container. “That’s a lot of soup for two people.”

  “We don’t have to eat it all. I usually cook enough for more than one meal.”

  “That’s Amish too, I suppose.”

  She looked away and didn’t answer. He picked up the pot of soup and led the way back to the dining room. Nancy followed with the soup dipper and hot pads, and laid them out before Charles set down the pot.

  He gave the drawn drapes a brief glance. “What happens if they catch me here?” he asked.

  “Not goot,” she said.

  “And yet you asked me over?”<
br />
  She sighed. “I didn’t know what else to do, Charles. I never can explain this fully. Not even if I try.”

  He inclined his head toward the drapes. “Perhaps they are drawn to scare me off?”

  Nancy winced. “No, not exactly. But I admit I’ve wanted you to see how far apart we are in the ways we live. It makes…a relationship between us quite unworkable.”

  “I see,” he said. But he didn’t understand, and that was plain enough to Nancy. How could someone who was born Englisha know what it was like to have the eyes of the community on you, and all of the time? There was no place where eyes were not watching. Somehow, someone always found out. Nancy shivered. She could hide Charles for a while, but not forever. No one before her had managed to cover up such deeds, and neither would she. There was an Englisha man in her house for supper, and the light of the community’s day would find it out sooner or later.

  Charles’s hand found hers. “I’m sorry if I don’t understand, but I do love you. That I do understand.”

  She managed to smile, but could say nothing.

  As they sat to begin their meal, Nancy paused awkwardly. “Will you pray?” she asked.

  “Of course,” Charles said. He bowed his head and offered a brief word of thanks.

  As Nancy dished up the soup, he said, “Tell me about the accident at the barn-raising. I’d like to know.”

  “A young man named John Yoder fell from a shaking beam and was seriously injured.” Her voice trembled. “What is there to say but that another young girl’s heart is broken?”

  “There are always tragedies, and someone innocent usually suffers. I’m sorry it happened.”

  Nancy gazed at the darkened drapes. “John and the woman who is to be his frau, Laura Mast, were so young and so full of life.”

  Charles was silent a moment and then gave her a soft smile. “Well, this is excellent soup. All the more so eaten by candlelight, or its equivalent—a kerosene lamp.” Charles laughed. “That’s quite romantic.”

  “I can get candles.” Nancy returned his smile.

  “No, this is fine,” he said. “I just want to be with you. By candlelight or kerosene lamp, you’re lovely.”

  “Charles, don’t,” she said. “I mean, I’m already enjoying the evening too much, and it was supposed to mark the end…not…” Nancy’s voice faded away.

  Charles lay his hand on hers again. “I understand, but there’s nothing you can do that will chase me away or make me change my mind about you.”

  She pulled her hand back but didn’t look at him. The topic of conversation had to change. “So tell me. How did you overcome your loss with Nichole?”

  “Through the help of God,” he said. “As I assume your young couple will. I only wish I had been on call that day and could have helped with the boy’s accident. It would have been good to see you in action in your natural habitat.”

  Nancy stilled the sudden intake of her breath. “You can never do that, Charles. Surely you sense the seriousness of my situation. If you had recognized me at the barn-raising, I can’t imagine what would have happened. Deacon William was already full enough of questions. Can’t you—”

  Charles stopped Nancy with a touch on her arm. “Dear heart, I’m sorry to push the point, but if we want to continue our relationship, the time must come for a change. You know that, don’t you? I can’t join your community. That’s not the way God has made me.”

  “And you think the Lord has made me Englisha?” The words burst out of her.

  “God has made you a woman I can love.” His voice was gentle. “Beyond that, I’m sorry if I’m asking something of you that I can’t do myself.”

  “Charles, I was in love once before,” she replied. “And I know that love is not enough.”

  Charles leaned closer. “Tell me about that. I’ve been very open with you about Nichole.”

  “I can’t. He’s Amish, and he’s still alive. He’s still part of this community.”

  “I see. Do you still love him?”

  “No, of course not. But it’s made me very careful about ever loving again…at least loving like that. All or nothing.”

  A slight smile played on Charles’s face. “Does that mean you have feelings for me?”

  She looked down into her lap, but could say nothing.

  Charles’s smile broadened. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Nancy fiddled with her spoon. How unlike her Teacher Nancy persona she was behaving right now. She had forgotten what love did to her senses, to her balance, and certainly to her goot sense.

  “Charles, the invitation tonight was to show you that this has to end,” she whispered.

  “I agree,” he said. “It ends with our wedding. If you will say yes, we can have this whole thing wrapped up next month.”

  She met his gaze and her hands trembled.

  “Please, dear, marry me,” he said.

  “I can’t.” Her voice shook.

  “You don’t want to? Is that what you are saying?”

  “No! It means I can’t. I want…” She bit off the words. “Tonight never should have happened, Charles. We are not from the same world.”

  “But we are also a man and a woman.”

  “It can’t be, Charles. It can’t be!” Her voice rose. “Please leave before I begin to cry. Don’t you know how very hard this is for me? If you truly love me, you’ll go.”

  He surveyed her for a moment as tears filled her eyes.

  “I’ll go,” he said, standing. “But I will see you again. And next time it will be on my turf…with no drapes drawn.”

  He touched her arm before he slipped out the back door.

  Nancy stared at the darkened drapes and the now-cold pot of soup on the table. She was cursed in love—there was no other answer. The Amish didn’t believe in such things, but she was cursed. She simply was.

  Chapter Eleven

  Early Monday morning, Lydia stood behind the counter of Uncle Henry’s small roadside stand on Highway 184. A pale sliver of the moon hung just above the horizon, and the sun would be up in a few minutes to flood the world with brilliant light. What better sign of the Lord’s favor could there be? At the moment she needed all the signs she could get. Back home Laura’s tragedy with John was still gripping the household in sorrow, and here on Uncle Henry’s farm, they mourned with Laura.

  Yesterday at the service in Uncle Henry’s district, the discussion of John’s accident had been on everyone’s lips.

  “They say there’s little change in him,” a woman had said. “He’s still up at the Ogdensburg Medical Center.”

  “Drifting in and out of consciousness,” another had added. “With little hope of recovery.”

  In the meantime Lydia was sure Laura was clinging to the hope that John would make a full comeback. That would not happen from the sound of things, but neither would Laura listen to advice. Especially from Mamm.

  “John’s condition is what it is, and you’ll not be wedding him,” Mamm had told Laura more than once before Lydia moved over to Uncle Henry’s place. But Mamm’s efforts to awaken Laura to reality fell on deaf ears. Laura’s faith seemed to rise out of her sorrow, and Lydia was in awe of her twin. All of Laura’s dreams of love had been brought to an abrupt halt with the accident. Lydia would not blame her twin for her stubbornness, as some did. If Milton were laid up in a hospital bed, she, too, might hang on to hope past any reasonable expectations.

  Lydia sighed and looked up and down the empty road. It was too early for customers, yet she was out here on Uncle Henry’s orders. Milton had been right. Uncle Henry was a bit of a slave driver. Yet she had been happy to comply. They were all eager for success on opening day. Now the hour had arrived.

  Lydia knew she could be thankful Mamm hadn’t forbidden this venture at the last minute with how busy things were at home. Laura had to visit the hospital at least twice a week. If it had been left up to Laura, she would visit John every day, but Mamm wouldn’t hear of it. Daett had remained sil
ent about Lydia’s planned move to Uncle Henry’s place, but he would have intervened again on her behalf if Mamm had come up with new objections. She’d be gone from home until at least Christmas. Her family would be okay, Lydia told herself. No one was indispensable—as the accident with John had clearly showed. She’d be back in the home district this Sunday for her baptism, and she could visit after that if the need arose.

  “We can’t let you get homesick now,” Uncle Henry had teased her yesterday after the service. She had ridden with Uncle Henry’s family in their buggy and back again after the noon meal. The truth was she hadn’t been homesick in the least, but it was best not to say so too plainly. Mamm might be offended if the words came back to her, which they would. Uncle Henry always said exactly what was on his mind.

  Hopefully Uncle Henry hadn’t seen Milton smile at her after the service. Uncle Henry already knew too much of what there was to know about Milton and her. Milton was friendly, but things hadn’t moved any further. They talked to each other around the farm, but that also seemed more like business than romance. If truth be told, she still felt shy about Milton and her feelings for him.

  Laura, on the other hand, hadn’t cared if the whole world knew about her relationship with John. Hadn’t Laura kissed John in public on the day of the barn-raising—well, almost in public? Lydia could never do that. Love was a private matter kept in one’s heart. She’d probably swoon with Milton’s first kiss—if there ever was one.

  Soft footsteps came up behind Lydia and she whirled around.

  “Thought I was sneaking up on you?” Milton teased.

  “Yah, because you were,” Lydia shot back.

  Milton wasn’t fazed. “Penny for your thoughts on this fine morning?”

  Heat flamed into her face, and Lydia looked away. Thankfully the darkness was still a cloak.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  “I can speak perfectly well,” she said. “Just don’t go sneaking up on a girl when she’s alone.”

  Milton gave her a wicked grin. “I was walking along the road like a normal human being, and there you were, all dreamy-eyed. No doubt thinking sweet thoughts of someone special. Who would the lucky man be?”