by Mary Ellis
“I pegged you wrong back in Harmony. You’re exactly like your sister Amy.”
He reached for her arm, but she shrugged away. “Well, danki. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You’ll regret this, Nora, long before you trade one boring store in for another.”
Her patience had dwindled to nothing. “Whether or not I end up with Lewis, I don’t want to spend another five minutes with you, Elam Detweiler. Now kindly forget we ever met!” Shaking with fury, she stomped back to the bakery.
An unfortunate ending for a former friendship—one she had cherished after first leaving her Pennsylvania home. But if you back a stray cat into a corner, sooner or later she’ll bear her claws.
His landlady’s covert glances were wearing on Elam’s nerves. Each time he entered the house, he had to walk down the hallway and through the Petersheim kitchen to come and go from his first-floor room. How he longed for the basement quarters with an outside entrance he’d had at his brother’s house in Maine. Not that Elam missed spiders lurking on the walls or his clothes damp from the humidity. Privacy was the only thing he missed about Harmony, except maybe his sister-in-law’s fried chicken…and his two cute little nephews. Harmony’s conservativeness hadn’t been a good fit for him. Here in Paradise, he was pretty much left alone, except for Mrs. Petersheim’s surreptitious glances and her husband’s thinly disguised questions: “Given any more thought to getting baptized, son? A service will be coming up in a few weeks.” Or, “I’d be happy to accompany you to a horse auction. Getting rid of that gas-guzzler will go a long way toward being accepted in this community.”
He didn’t want acceptance.
He no longer drank alcohol inside their home and carefully kept his car parked out of sight of the road. The Petersheims should be satisfied with that and leave him alone. They were nice enough people. Ruth Petersheim let him use the propane washer and dryer at no charge, and she often invited him to share supper with the family. But Elam always declined. There was no sense getting chummy with folks he would soon leave in his dust. When hunger got the better of him, he ate a bowl of leftovers from their refrigerator after they went to bed. Usually, he drove up to Columbia and bought packaged food to keep from starving. When his stockpile ran out, Elam relied on the vending machine at Gingerich Lumber, along with the free coffee and baked goods.
Austere living, while saving most of his pay, was part of his master plan. He’d spotted reasonably priced apartments on the northern outskirts of Columbia. Because Randolph and Audrain Counties had few rentals, he would have to commute back and forth to work, but his saving account would allow him to buy furniture and appliances for the apartment—everything a woman needed to feel at home.
Too bad the only woman he pictured on his new sofa was Nora King. And she’d just told him to get lost. When had she become so pretty? Putting on a few pounds at the bakery had done wonders for her figure. Nora had been bony when she arrived in Harmony, barely able to keep rooted in a stiff wind. Funny how he’d never imagined sharing an apartment with her before. But lately, he hadn’t been able to think about much else. Despite her pronouncement at the bakery yesterday, he remembered her sweet soft lips on his more than once. She’d surrendered to his kisses in Maine, enjoying them just as much as he had.
“You’re a dog in the manger, Elam.” His grossmammi’s words still haunted him, even though the woman was long in her grave. That might be true, but this dog needed to get rid of the stray who wandered into Paradise with his sights set on Nora. It galled Elam that Lewis lived under the Gingerich roof when he was no relation whatsoever. It was no use fantasizing about Nora as long as that stock boy was still in town. If Miller were to hightail it back home in disgrace, Nora would change her mind about the two of them. She wasn’t a woman to spend life alone.
With irritation, Elam glanced down at the gas gauge on his way to the lumberyard. He would have barely enough to reach the gas station after his shift. Living out in the middle of nowhere had many disadvantages—no restaurants, no bars, no gas stations, no movie theaters, or anything else to do for recreation. The sooner he and Nora moved from this one-horse town the better. In Columbia, he would find plenty of better places to work than Gingerich Lumber.
Elam parked in the employee lot and punched his time card right on time. He headed toward the break room for coffee and bakery items. On Saturdays, Jonas usually brought in day-old cookies. But the foreman circumvented Elam’s plans.
“There you are, Detweiler. We have no trucks to unload this morning, so I want you to add a coat of waterproof sealer to the roof. It’s supposed to be dry for a few days. Bob and Jack will pull the morning orders.”
Elam blinked, his smile fading to a scowl. “Spread black tar on the roof? You picked me for the job? Why don’t you make that new guy do it?” He hated to even mention his competition’s name.
Ken glanced up from his clipboard. “Robert is training Lewis on the computer today. The buckets and rough-napped roller are in the supply room, along with muck boots and gloves. Be sure to wear goggles and don’t roll it too thinly.” Ken flipped the page on his clipboard and began to walk away.
Elam needed only a moment to recall tarring his grandfather’s barn one summer…the heat, the smell, the flies buzzing around his head. And, no matter how careful you were, you always got tar on your skin. “I hate that particular job. Why don’t you ask one of the Englischers?”
Halting in his tracks, Ken glared over this shoulder. “Because I’m asking you, Detweiler, so get moving or consider this your last day.” His beady eyes narrowed, giving him the appearance of a weasel.
Elam stalked to the supply room with clenched fists and thoughts running through his head not part of any Christian upbringing. After tucking his pant legs into tall rubber boots and donning the elbow-length gloves, he grabbed goggles and the first load of materials. It took four trips up the ladder before all of the cans of sealant were on the roof. During his final trip, he spotted Lewis Miller bent over a computer monitor in Jonas’s office. Sitting next to him, Robert rested a hand on Lewis’s shoulder as though the two were old pals.
Typical of when someone senses they are being watched, Lewis glanced up to meet Elam’s gaze. With a bucket of tar in each hand, Elam felt like the lowest man on the totem pole. Miller forced a smile. Or was that a mocking smirk because he’d won favor with the bosses…and with Nora King?
For the next five hours, Elam swabbed on the thick sticky goo, spreading the coat as best he could. As predicted, flies circled his head, sweat from the relentless heat ran down his face and neck, and when he absently scratched a mosquito bite, he streaked his cheek with tar. Seldom had he endured a more onerous morning in twenty-two years of life. At eleven o’clock, when he climbed down the ladder for his lunch hour, he met Ken Stewart on his way up.
“Good, you’re taking a break. Why don’t you eat this in the shade by the picnic tables?” He held out a large paper sack. “That way you won’t track tar inside the store. I bought you McDonald’s on my way back from Moberly—two Quarter Pounders with cheese, a large order of fries, and a chocolate shake. I know how men your age can eat. There are two bottles of water in the bag too.” Ken laughed as though one free meal made everything hunky-dory between them.
But now wasn’t the time to settle scores. Elam was starving. After a small bowl of cold chili last night and no breakfast, he could practically eat the Styrofoam containers. “Thanks for lunch,” he muttered, pulling off his gloves. He carried the bag to an empty table and devoured the food in record time. Before returning to the roof, he used the outdoor facilities instead of the indoor restroom, ratcheting up his sense of alienation from the other employees, both Amish and English.
The afternoon contained more of the same oppressive heat and backbreaking labor. By the time Elam finished coating every flat surface late in the day, he was in a foul mood. How dare Lewis come to Paradise and ruin everything for him? If he’d stayed where he belonged in the Great White North, the free ro
om and board at the Gingerichs’ would have been Elam’s, along with the position inside the showroom. And Nora would still be his girl. He needed to send Lewis scurrying back to Maine like the cockroach he was. With him out of the way, she would forget her straightlaced convictions. With patience and gentle coaxing, any woman could be seduced.
Elam shucked off his boots and gloves in the supply room and cleaned tar off his arms and face as best he could. When he approached the time clock to punch out, his temper had reached its boiling point. He almost missed the perfect chance to solve his problems in one fell swoop.
Almost…but never let it be said that Elam Detweiler didn’t seize opportunities handed to him on a silver platter.
TWELVE
Be saved, to sin no more
Lewis tried his best not to get too full of himself, but at the moment, he was one happy man. When Robert mentioned he would learn the computer today, Lewis had felt sick to his stomach. Typical of everyone Old Order Amish, his formal education ended after the eighth grade. Of course, a smart man never stopped learning throughout his lifetime. He’d been trained by the best Amish bookkeeper in Maine to handle the accounts at his daed’s cooperative market and general store. But keeping ledgers wasn’t the same as imputing data into a computer.
By the end of the day, Robert had taught him the rudiments of a program called Excel and then slapped him on the back. “Good work, Miller. Before you know it, you’ll be a techno-geek.”
Lewis didn’t know what that meant, but he accepted the compliment with a bit of pride. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be happy to fill in for you whenever needed.” They shook hands, wished each other a happy Saturday night, and left to collect their belongings. Lewis had just retrieved Jonas’s gelding from the paddock when he spotted several Amish young men headed his way. His good day was about to get even better.
“Hold up there, Lewis,” said one. “I’m Josh, and this is Albert and Seth.”
Lewis grasped the gelding’s bridle to keep him from prancing and nodded at each man in turn. He recognized them vaguely from the lumberyard, but all three worked in the sawmill. “How’s it going?”
“Gut, gut. We heard you’re new to the area and staying at the Gingerichs’.” Josh wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Tonight there will be a bonfire and hayride at my house. Do you want to come?”
Lewis considered. “Much as I’d like to, I don’t know if I can. Might be too late by the time I get home from work. Where do you live?”
“Not far away. Around the corner and halfway down the next road. We live in the same district as Jonas and Emily…your new district. Jonas can give you directions.”
“Sounds gut, as long as I can borrow Emily’s buggy again. I haven’t had a chance to buy my own rig.”
“I might be able to help with that when the time comes,” Seth said. “My daed breeds and raises Standardbreds. He has several horses for sale along with a few buggies—used, but still in fine shape.”
“Stop with the sales pitch,” said Josh with a grin. “It’s Saturday night. Let’s talk hot dogs roasted over an open fire, buttered corn on the cob, and desserts the girls spend hours making just to impress us.”
All four Plain men laughed.
Albert clapped a hand on Lewis’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Because tomorrow’s a preaching Sunday, we’ll break up early. What do you say?”
Lewis tucked his hands beneath his suspenders. “I say jah and danki. Is it okay if I ask a young woman to come?”
The sawmill workers hooted. “Where did you move from, Miller?” asked Josh. “Of course it’s okay. What would a hayride and bonfire be without single young women to talk to?” He received arm punches from both Seth and Albert.
“What should I bring?” asked Lewis, already backing away.
“Just yourself, but that young lady of yours can bring anything she wants as long as it’s sweet.” Josh waved his hand as they headed to their buggies.
Lewis mulled over Josh’s words while hitching up the horse. That young lady of yours. How he loved the sound of that. Nora had agreed to court him, but he had no exclusive claim on her affections. Would she someday become his bride? Where would they take the kneeling vow, committing themselves to God and the Amish church? And where would they make their home after the wedding—here among acres of flat, wind-swept farmland, stretching for as far as the eye could see? Or back home in his beloved Waldo County, Maine, surrounded by the family and friends he’d known his entire life? One thing was certain. He loved Nora and refused to consider that she might pick Elam over him. But in the end, if she chose Elam he would behave honorably. After losing her parents, Nora deserved happiness with whichever man captured her heart.
Jonas reached the buggy just as Lewis untied the reins from the post. “I see some Amish men paid you a visit,” said Jonas. He set his empty lunch cooler under the seat and took the reins.
“Jah. They invited me to a social tonight.” Lewis tried to tamp down his excitement. “A bonfire and hayride.”
Jonas steered the horse out of parking lot onto the pavement toward home. “Is that right? I suppose you said nein, not wanting to sit on bales of scratchy straw. Then there’s all that smoke and flying ash at bonfires to stink up your clothes and irritate your eyes. I wonder why they don’t call them ‘strawrides’ since they seldom use bales of hay.”
Lewis studied his boss from the corner of his eye. “You and Emily sure were blessed with the same sense of humor.”
“It was a match made in heaven.” Jonas shook the harness to pick up the pace. “Do you plan to invite Nora?”
“The moment we get home. I hope she agrees, considering the late notice after a long workday.”
“She’s probably desperate to relax. I know Emily shakes a bullwhip at those girls.”
Lewis laughed as he pictured her standing over Nora and Violet with a whip. For a devout deacon of the church, Jonas had an exceptionally wry wit. “I’m sure the whip is more for show than any real motivation.” He slouched on the bench and pulled down his hat, as though preparing to catnap. But instead of sleeping, he planned how to approach Nora. Maybe he would sneak up on her in the garden while she selected the perfect ripe tomato for supper. Perhaps he would find her on the porch swing, lost in the drama of one of her novels. Or maybe she would be on the fishing dock, catching some afternoon sunshine on her cheeks. Before Lewis finished his perfect strategy, Jonas turned into their gravel drive.
“Let me tend the horse while you look for Nora,” said Jonas. “If you’re going somewhere tonight, I suggest you not dillydally.”
Lewis waited long enough to obtain directions to Josh’s before entering the house. While imagining where he would extend the invitation, he hadn’t considered the most likely place—in a hot, airless kitchen. Nora stood frying meat at the stove. Sweeping off his hat, Lewis crept into the room. “Nora, could I speak to you a minute about something we might like to do together?”
She turned to look at him. Her face was sweaty and blotchy, her head covering wrinkled and askew, and her apron looked as though she had used it to strain tomato juice. A pot of something pasty and white boiled over onto the enamel surface of the stove.
“Ah, you might want to turn down that burner,” he said, pointing.
“Dear me, the rice!” With a pot holder she pulled the pan from the burner and lowered the heat. “I never know how high to set the flame—too low and the rice stays hard; too high and you have a mess on your hands.” She tucked a damp lock beneath her kapp. “You wished to ask me something?”
Every ounce of courage mustered on the way home vanished. The woman of his dreams stood before him, hot and exhausted from a long day of waiting on customers. Now she was cooking dinner for the Gingerichs in a hot kitchen. What she probably wanted to do was put her feet up after supper and listen to crickets until she fell asleep in the chair.
Nora perched one hand on her hip. “Well, did you forget your question already? It must not have been e
arth-shattering.” She turned back to flip pork chops in the skillet.
“I didn’t forget,” he said, running his tongue over dry lips. “I got an invite late in the day. Some fellas told me after work. One of them, Josh, is having a get-together at his parents’ house.” His voice cracked like a fifteen-year-old’s.
Nora lifted her brows. “I met Josh once and the girl he’s courting.”
“Sorry about the late notice, but would you like to go to a bonfire and hayride…with me?” Lewis swallowed hard. “Tonight?”
Nora pressed a finger to her lips. “Let me think a moment…. jah, I would love to go.” She contemplated less than three seconds. “I’ll ask Emily to finish supper while I shower. Maybe you could shower upstairs? It’s lovely having two bathrooms in the house, no?”
“No need to ask me anything.” Emily strode into the room and pulled Nora’s soiled apron over her head like a magic trick. “I’ll finish up in here. Go get ready. The last time I checked, a person is only young once.” Leaning over the stove, Emily lifted the lid of the saucepot. “Goodness, what is this sticky goo? It looks like wallpaper paste.”
Lewis didn’t wait to hear Nora’s answer. He bolted up the steps to grab fresh clothes and claim the bathroom before something changed her mind.
For a few minutes, Nora just stood under the shower spray, letting cool water wash away the day’s residue. Her fatigue disappeared along with the scented soap bubbles down the drain. She would spend the evening with Lewis. It would be their second date. And with that thought, she barely noticed when the water chilled as someone ran the shower overhead.
As she toweled her hair and dressed in her favorite rose-hued dress, she thought about the ruined rice and spattering grease. Why did Lewis have to witness her poor performance in the kitchen? Why wasn’t he there when her piecrust turned out flakier than Emily’s? Or when customers at Grain of Life raved about her chocolate chip cookies, insisting they were moister than anyone else’s? Instead, he saw her damp and disheveled, boiling rice into wallpaper paste.