More Than Friendship

by Amy Lillard

  “You’re right,” she said. Thomas was about as perfect as they came. And that was something she needed to remember.

  * * *

  The next day, Clara Rose woke with a peace in her heart that she hadn’t had for days, not since Obie had come into the quilting circle and told her that she shouldn’t marry Thomas Lapp. Last night, talking with her sister, hearing her sister’s words about what a wonderful man Thomas was, had changed everything. Today she would have tranquility of the heart. And she wouldn’t have to worry about those plaguing doubts. The nervousness over her upcoming nuptials was gone, and in its place were happiness and a joy that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

  She went about her morning chores with a spring in her step. And to make matters even more complete, tonight was Friday, the night of the annual Wells Landing hayride. She could hardly wait. It was just a good excuse for a bunch of them to have some farmer drive them out in the woods. Still, she was looking forward to spending time with Thomas, just the two of them. Well, there would be a few other couples around, but it wouldn’t be like the night before when they sang at the hospital in front of children and doctors and nurses and hospital staff, not to mention each other. This was a little more intimate. And she was looking forward to rattling around in an old wagon through the woods while everyone told stories and enjoyed the changing weather.

  “You look chipper today,” Mamm said.

  “I am.” It felt good to say that, to have that burden of doubt lifted from her shoulders.

  “You and Obie make up?”

  Clara Rose felt a great cloud rain over her day. “No, he still won’t talk to me.” Not that she had gone to his house or anything. She had only tried to call from the phone in the barn, but when he hadn’t responded at once, she’d known that he didn’t want to talk to her. And as much as it hurt her to have him separated from her, she wasn’t about to force the issue. If he didn’t want to be around her, that was his fault. Not hers. She would continue to do the things that she did in her life, be with the people that she was normally with, and see and talk to the people that she normally saw and talked with and eat the same foods and everything just the same, and when Obie decided to come back, she would still be there. Not really waiting on him. But she would still be there, the same person she had been the day that he left.

  “If it’s not Obie, then I suppose this has come from some sort of understanding with Thomas?”

  “You could say that.” Clara Rose gave a small wink as she stacked the breakfast dishes and headed for the kitchen.

  * * *

  “I didn’t realize there’d be so many people here.” Clara Rose allowed her gaze to wander around the fields and all the tractors and cars parked there.

  Thomas wrapped his hands around her waist and set her on the ground safely. Then, as the true gentleman he was, he let her go. “This is opening night,” Thomas said. “There’s always a big turnout on the first day.”

  True, she thought. But this wasn’t turning out to be the intimate night in a wagon with her fiancé she had hoped it would be, especially after her realization the day before. She had another epiphany. She needed to repair the damage to the bond between her and Thomas. Her mother was right: the bond was fragile and she needed to make sure that it was as strong as possible every day. Every minute of every day. And she needed to start yesterday.

  “We might have trouble getting a wagon.”

  “I called in advance and reserved us one. Just in case.” Thomas smiled down at her and she returned it, enjoying the twinkle in his brown eyes. It just went to prove how perfect he was. And once again she thanked God for bringing him to her.

  “Is that Obie Brenneman over there?” Rachel Detweiler asked.

  Clara Rose whirled around to find Obie standing next to Ivy Weaver. Her eyes widened, and she tried her best to make her expression impassive. She really didn’t care who Obie went out with. It wasn’t her concern. None of her concern at all.

  Chapter Five

  It’s not any of your concern, she told herself as they piled into the back of the wagon. And it didn’t matter that Obie was her best friend and had been forever. He could go out with whoever he wanted to. And it surely didn’t matter that he had never shown any interest in dating anyone. At least not that she was aware of.

  She pushed those thoughts away and sat down in one corner of the wagon, the hay cushioning her back. Thomas settled down next to her.

  Of all the luck.

  She looked up just in time to see Obie plop into the corner opposite them and pull Ivy down close to him. It was dark, but she thought for a moment that their eyes met and held. But then Obie looked away and the moment was gone, if it had ever been there at all.

  “Are you comfortable?” Thomas laid the blanket across their legs to ward off the October chill. Weather in Oklahoma could be very unpredictable, but Clara Rose had checked the newspaper that very morning. This was supposed to be the coolest night they’d had all year.

  She smiled gratefully at Thomas. “Jah, thanks.”

  And she wasn’t going to look over and see just how close Obie was sitting to Ivy Weaver.

  Her gaze wandered toward the opposite corner without any direction from her. They were sitting entirely too closely together. Entirely.

  She turned her attention back to her corner of the wagon. Thomas was speaking to her and she did her best to pay attention. She was certain he would have no desire to listen to her feelings about a girl like Ivy.

  Not that Obie seemed to care. She glanced back over. Were they sitting even closer together than they had been before? It didn’t matter. But he was messing up hanging out with Ivy Weaver.

  “Clara Rose?”

  She turned her attention to Thomas and smiled. She wasn’t going to let Obie ruin her night. “Yes?” Even in the dim light Clara Rose could see the frown on his handsome face.

  “You were a million miles away.”

  Not so far. Just across the wagon. “I’m sorry.”

  Thomas didn’t have time to respond as the driver set the horses into motion. They rattled along the path, swaying and bumping shoulders with the motion of the wagon. Obie and Ivy weren’t bumping shoulders because their shoulders were already scandalously pressed together.

  “Can’t be the wedding,” Thomas said.

  “What?” She turned her full attention back to Thomas, wondering when she had lost the thread of the conversation.

  “You’re so distracted. It can’t be because of the wedding. You said your mother had finished all the sewing. There’s nothing left to do but get married.”

  Clara Rose opened her mouth to respond, but she had nothing to say and shut it again.

  Thomas’s frown deepened.

  “It’s a lot of change, getting married,” Clara Rose explained, hoping that it would bring Thomas some insight into her feelings on the matter.

  His expression remained unchanged. “Or maybe it’s just Obie.”

  Her gaze swung back to him. He was looking at her, as if waiting for her to look away from Obie and back to him.

  “Obie’s not talking to me right now.” She hadn’t had an opportunity to tell Thomas, or maybe she just hadn’t taken any of the opportunities that had been afforded her. Honestly, she didn’t want to talk to Thomas about Obie. Everything lately had been so tense. And then Obie got angry with her. Why couldn’t they all get along?

  “Because you won’t call off the wedding?”

  Clara Rose shook her head. “I don’t know. I think this is just going to be an adjustment for all of us.”

  Thomas took one of her hands into his own, tracing the outline of each fingernail as he studied them. “It always is.” He folded her fingers into his palm, the warmth of his touch seeping into her bones. It was going to be okay. As soon as she and Thomas got married, or maybe a couple weeks after that, Obie would see that they would still do things together as a youth group and buddy bunch. There weren’t that many people in Wells Landing. The
y all had to stick together. What might seem like more change than they could handle at the present time would turn into a lifetime of friendship in just a few short weeks. She had to be patient until then.

  * * *

  After thirty minutes of riding in the wagon and doing everything in her power to give all of her attention to Thomas and none of it to Obie, Clara Rose was about to crack. She told herself repeatedly not to look over to see what Obie was doing. Every time she made the mistake of letting her gaze wander to where he sat, she regretted it. And in more ways than one.

  “We’re stopping for a small break,” the driver said as he pulled the horses to one side of the dirt road.

  A short distance away, a number of wooden picnic tables sat, clustered around a fire pit. A circle of lawn chairs surrounded the pit. The burning blaze offered heat and a fun place to roast marshmallows, but Clara Rose was not in the mood.

  “Can I get you a cup of apple cider?” Thomas asked.

  She slid into one side of one of the picnic tables and smiled gratefully back to him. “That would be good, jah.”

  As she watched, Thomas made his way back over to the wagon, where one of the drivers was handing out cookies and warm apple cider.

  Clara Rose took the moment to prop her chin in her hand and not have to worry about anything. This time it wasn’t about Obie or how he felt about her marrying Thomas. This was all about relaxing and resting and enjoying herself. It might’ve succeeded too, except the very moment she reached that relaxed state, Obie walked by holding Ivy Weaver’s hand.

  “Isn’t that your little friend?” Ivy asked.

  Obie stopped and looked around as if he hadn’t seen her sitting there. Then his eyes widened in mock surprise.

  “Oh yeah, this is Clara Rose. Clara Rose, Ivy Weaver.”

  Clara Rose took a moment to push her feet for a small nod, then she sat back down without offering a hand to shake. She knew exactly who Ivy Weaver was. Everyone in Wells Landing did. She was that girl, the one with the reputation. Twenty years old, still in rumspringa, not showing any signs of slowing down. This was not the sort of girl Obie needed to be hanging out with. Not at all.

  Clara Rose pushed herself to her feet and forced a smile to her lips. “Ivy, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I talked to Obie for just a moment. Alone,” she emphasized. Without waiting for a response, she grabbed the sleeve of Obie’s black coat and pulled him away from the cluster of picnic tables and toward the dark crop of trees.

  “What are you doing?” Clara Rose asked.

  Obie gave her an innocent look. A look that was so innocent it had to be guilty. “I was going to get some cider and a cookie, but then someone grabbed my arm and dragged me into the woods.”

  “This isn’t about apple cider and cookies, Obie. And you know it. What are you doing with her?”

  He turned and glanced back to where Ivy stood at the picnic table, patiently waiting for him to return. “She’s fine.”

  Clara Rose pinched him on the arm. Even though he had on his thick woolen coat, he let out a small yowl. “What’d you do that for?”

  “Pay attention.”

  He pressed his lips together, his expression suddenly sullen. “I have paid attention my whole life, and it hasn’t gotten me anywhere.”

  “She’s trouble, and everyone in town knows it.”

  Obie shook his head. “Why would you say something like that?”

  “Because it’s true.”

  Obie shrugged and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. His head was down, and she couldn’t see his face enough to discern his true feelings on the matter.

  “I’ve heard that she kissed three people, Obie. Three!”

  He shrugged again. “Rumors.”

  But Clara Rose shook her head. “She wears jeans under her dresses and drives a car.”

  He shot her a bit of a grin. “And a pretty good one. It’s a Mustang.”

  She didn’t know the first thing about Englisch cars. She supposed they weren’t that different from tractors, but she had no idea what a Mustang was. “All the more reason for you to stay away from her.”

  “I tell you what,” Obie started. “You stay away from Thomas, and I’ll stay away from Ivy.”

  Tears rose into her eyes at his hurtful words. “Why are you doing this?” He didn’t say a word, just stood there, hands on his hips and eyes flashing green sparks into the night. “You’re being totally unfair. I’m marrying Thomas in a few weeks. And unless you can come up with a valid reason why I shouldn’t—and I don’t think that you can—there’s nothing more to say on the matter.”

  * * *

  The rest of the hayride was a disaster. Everyone took the same seats as they had before their break, and once again Clara Rose was faced with Obie. Or should she say, Obie and Ivy. Cuddled up like they had known each other forever. Girls like that were trouble. They ran in the fast crowd, drove cars, probably even smoked cigarettes, and did more things than their parents even knew about. Obie had been baptized in the church. He had no business running around with a girl like Ivy. An association like that would only bring trouble.

  But even as Clara Rose did her best not to look at Obie and Ivy together or even separately, her gaze seem to wander that direction without any say-so from her. It didn’t take long for Thomas to realize that the other couple was capturing all her attention. Still. And the longer they were in the wagon, the further he seemed to pull away from her. There was nothing she could do about it. Or nothing that she knew to do about it. She wanted to reach out to Obie and make sure he knew that she only had his best interests at heart. Now, if she could just convince Thomas that she was only looking out for Obie, then everything would be perfect. But as much as she wanted that to happen, she knew it wouldn’t. And the two men she loved the most were both angry at her at the same time.

  She was careful not to say a word to Obie and Ivy as everyone piled out of the wagon at the end of the ride. But what had started out to be a fun and romantic night, her last hayride with Thomas as an unmarried couple, had turned into a messy ball of tension and nerves.

  Lord please give me patience and understanding, Clara Rose prayed. I surely do need them. Amen.

  Thomas didn’t say a word as he led her back toward his tractor. As they approached the big green beast, Clara Rose couldn’t help but remember what Obie had said about the Lapps’ tractor. And it was true. It was nicer than some Englisch cars, and definitely nicer than any of the other tractors in the area. Mainly because it never had seen dirt. Except for maybe the patch of grass where it was parked during the summertime. Nope, the tractor was clean and well-maintained, and definitely different from the necessary farm tractor of the area. But it was more than the tractor that captured her attention. Halfway across the field where they had parked, Clara Rose realized Thomas was walking a good foot away from her.

  She sidled in a bit closer, not so forward as to brush up against him, or hook her arm through his, but just a little closer. They had taken no more than three steps when she noticed the distance was back between them. She sidled in a bit closer once more, hoping that the distance Thomas had put between them was simply a coincidence. Three more steps in, it seemed there was even more space between the two of them.

  “You’re mad.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Why would I be mad?” Thomas asked. He opened the door of the tractor and helped her inside. He might be upset with her, but he was still a gentleman.

  A few seconds later, he swung himself up into the cab beside her. “My plan was simple, me and my girl coming out to enjoy the fall weather. Then the next thing I know, I’m staring down her supposed best friend who is all but kissing another girl in front of everyone. Why would I have any cause to be mad about that?”

  Was this a trick question? She wasn’t sure. Did she tell him the entire truth? Or just enough to ease that pain in his eyes? “Obie’s just being ridiculous. He’s trying to make me mad.”

  Thomas snorted, then started th
e tractor. “He’s trying to make you jealous.”

  A small bark of laughter escaped her, but there was no humor in the sound. “He’s trying to make me jealous? Why would he do something like that?”

  Thomas gave her a look akin to the one her grandmother had given her the day before. Why was everybody thinking that she knew what was in Obie’s mind and heart? She had no idea what he truly felt, only that he didn’t want her to marry Thomas.

  “Obie has no reason to want to make me jealous.” She said the words as emphatically as she could, and they zinged around the cab of the tractor.

  Thomas pinned her with another look, but this one was almost as unreadable to her as Greek. “You think so?”

  “What reason would Obie have to make me jealous? What purpose would that serve?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, Clara Rose. Why don’t you tell me?”

  Chapter Six

  “How much longer till you get the kids?” Mariana asked at the next quilting circle. Everyone had been steadily keeping up with Eileen’s quest for foster children. Her dream was about to become a reality. Two little girls were coming to live with her. Sisters. They needed a mother now more than ever. Their own had been injured in the same car wreck that killed their father. Because of her injuries, she had become addicted to prescription painkillers, and between that and the depression, the poor woman had made a couple of bad choices and was now serving some time in jail. Who knew if she would ever get her life back in order enough that she would be able to care for her children. In the meantime, someone needed to take care of them, as their extended family was unwilling.

  Clara Rose couldn’t imagine how anyone’s family would be unwilling to take care of two small girls. She had seen the picture that Eileen had brought in the last meeting, and the girls were adorable. Big brown eyes, soft curly blond hair. They looked like little angels. Clara Rose’s heart went out to all involved.

  “It may be a little while yet. But I’m hoping before Thanksgiving they’ll be here. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Eileen’s eyes lit up in a way Clara Rose had never seen. The woman had wanted to have a child for as long as she had known her. Not that it was a great long time. Clara Rose had only been coming to the quilting circle for the last couple of years, but what Amish woman didn’t want to have children? A whole passel of kids running around, playing games, helping with chores, and otherwise carrying on the Amish way of life to the next generation. Wasn’t that what it was all about?