by Amy Lillard
“Jah.”
He chanced a quick peek at her sitting next to him. By the way her gaze flitted around, she seemed almost as nervous as he. Was that because of his lack of driving skills? Or due to their close encounter earlier?
He turned his eyes back to the road. Traveling by buggy was both good and bad. He enjoyed the gentle sway of the animals, the feel of the woman who sat so close to him, the breeze blowing through his hair, caressing his face. The afternoon held the slight chill of fall, but the bright sun warmed in retaliation.
Thankfully, they were in no hurry. He was sure the horses could gallop with the best of them, but there would always be the danger of flipping the buggy or laming one of the beasts. As for today it was nice to sit up high and enjoy the ride for the sake of riding.
“I must apologize for Friday,” Katie Rose said, her voice as soft as the wind. “I . . . I . . .”
He wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but whatever it was, it didn’t need saying now. “No hard feelings.”
She shook her head. “Nay, I shouldn’t have treated you so—”
“Rudely?”
She shook her head. “You are not helpin’ matters, Zane Carson.”
“Am I supposed to?” He shot her a quick smile that she didn’t return.
“This mornin’ the bishop talked about forgiveness and understandin’ others and the trials they have walked.”
“Bishop Beachy?”
“Jah, we never know who might deliver the sermon. Whoever speaks is who God has chosen as His messenger for the day.”
“How many bishops are there?”
“One. And two ministers, a preacher, and the deacon. Did you not have a service like this at your church?”
He shook his head. “I’ve never been to church.”
“You are talkin’ about an Amish service, jah?”
“Any church.”
Katie Rose swung around in the seat to stare gape-mouthed at him. “Please tell me this is not true.”
Zane shrugged. “Sorry.” Never before had he felt like he’d missed out on anything by not attending church, but after Katie Rose’s reaction he couldn’t help but wonder.
She watched him, her brows knit together. “And how do you get the Lord’s word, Zane Carson?”
“I don’t.”
She gave him that look. The one that all believers gave those suspect of not being among them. Zane was accustomed to the look. Normally he brushed it off and went about his way. But Katie Rose had him wondering about what he might be missing.
He mentally shook himself. He was just under the power of her jade-green eyes. He had taken the “when in Rome” creed a little too far. Just because she needed the Bible and its contents to make each day valid didn’t mean everyone did.
“Do you not believe in God?”
He sucked in a breath. Did he?
She looked as if she would pray for him at any moment. “One look at a battlefield and even the most devout would doubt.”
“One look at the beach, and it would all come back,” she primly replied.
His head swiveled in her direction. “And when have you seen a beach?” He gestured toward the fields and trees around them. He might not be a geography scholar, but the last time he checked, Oklahoma was a landlocked state.
“Some friends and I went to Cabo San Lucas for a trip.”
He straightened. “On your rumpringa?”
She nodded.
“To Mexico?”
She gave him the tiniest of smiles.
He continued to watch her.“If you won’t allow your picture to be taken, how’d you get a passport?”
“There are ways around such matters, Zane Carson.” The mystery in her voice set him back.
“Abram and Ruth let you go all the way to Mexico without a chaperone?”
“That is what rumspringa is all about. Seein’ the world, experiencin’ it. Samplin’ what it has to offer before we make the commitment to God and church.”
When he was younger, he’d wanted to be a part of something like that, something larger than himself, something more meaningful than his own wants and needs. But once he reached his teens he knew it was a hoax. The cooperative was close, but it was still made up of the people who formed it, and they weren’t always what they seemed. Every organization he joined turned out the same. His college fraternity, the Army, everything. So he’d given up and concentrated instead on getting the most out of life.
“What has you frownin’, Zane Carson?”
“Just thinking.”
“And that makes you frown like the devil has ahold of your tail?”
He laughed, her silly question chasing away the dark thoughts. “My what?”
“Your tail. That never fails to make Samuel smile.”
“Where is Samuel?”
At the mention of her nephew’s name, Katie Rose straightened in her seat. “We should probably get back. I left him with Mary Elizabeth. But they are siblings, and I know he is missin’ me.”
“He loves you very much,” Zane said, thinking of the small redhead that occasionally peeked out from the folds of Katie Rose’s skirt. It was a wonder she came without him at all.
“I’m the only mother he’s ever known.”
“What’ll happen when you get married and start a family of your own?”
A hint of melancholy crept into her eyes. “I am way past the marryin’ age, Zane Carson.”
He tried to hide his surprise, but knew she saw it regardless of his efforts. “You’re what? Twenty-five. Twenty-six?”
She nodded. “Jah, I am long past the years to take a husband. I accept this. God didn’t have a plan for me there, because He needs me to take care of the children.”
“Samuel?”
“And the school children. That is my ministry for God.”
He shifted in his seat. “Care to explain that?”
“The school is always in need of teachers. We teach our own, you know. But then once a teacher gets married, she leaves, and there has to be someone to take her place. I know this is where I am supposed to be, so I will remain with the students. It is God’s plan for me.”
Must be nice, Zane thought. To know with such certainty the purpose of life.
“Turn left right here,” Katie Rose said.
“Turn left or turn right?”
She laughed at his joke. “Turn left. The road circles around, and we’ll be back at my elders’ haus in no time.”
He did as she asked, wondering all the while if a person had to believe in God to know what He had planned for them.
Monday, it seemed, was wash day. Everyone got up very early—even earlier than normal. Zane knew this because he could hear them downstairs as they raced around, gathering clothes and taking them outside to the gas-powered wringer washer.
He looked at the sky outside his curtain-less windows. He had discovered that the Amish considered curtains to be vain and prideful, but after seeing the washer the women had to use, he’d bet they didn’t have curtains so they wouldn’t have to clean them.
The bed next to his was empty, which meant John Paul was already up or had yet to return at all. What he did at all hours of the night was beyond Zane. His uncle hadn’t imposed a strict curfew on Zane when he was a teen, but he could vouch that not much went on after midnight. If he could say that about Chicago, then he was certain there was nothing going on in small-town Clover Ridge. And yet the young man left most every evening and returned sometime in the night. Sometimes sooner, often later.
Zane pushed himself out of the bed and checked his watch. Four a.m. With a shake of his head, he pulled on a shirt and made his way to the bathroom. He washed his face and hands, brushed his teeth and hair, then stumbled down the stairs.
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Since the women were outside with the clunky old washing machine, the kitchen was empty. He grabbed himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove, thankful one of them had made his favorite vice before chores. No one should eat at this hour, he thought, and pushed himself out of the house and into the dark before dawn.
A few birds started their morning song. Fresh dew lay on the grass, and the sky was almost—almost—purple. A sure sign that sunrise was imminent.
“Here,” Ruth called to Annie. “Get that load right there, and go back for the detergent. Mach schnell, mach schnell.” Ruth all but clapped her hands at the young woman.
Annie ran around doing Ruth’s bidding. The exhaustion that plagued Ruth yesterday seemed to have vanished, leaving in its place a drill sergeant of a laundry commander.
Zane watched for a few more minutes before curiosity got the better of him. He sauntered barefoot across the yard, thankful for once that his pants were too short. At least they wouldn’t get a wet hem.
“What are you two doing?”
“It’s wash day,” Annie panted, not bothering to look up from pulling clothes out of the wringer.
“I gathered that much.”
Ruth ran a hand across her brow where sweat had formed despite the coolness of the morning. Fall had set in overnight, and today promised to be much cooler than the days past. His gaze flickered to Annie, who bit her lip and shot a worried glance toward Ruth.
“I’m fine, child.” If the sparkle in her eyes was any indication, Ruth Fisher was indeed fine, but Zane couldn’t help but be a little worried after yesterday’s episode with exhaustion.
Annie propped her hands on her hips and blew an imaginary strand of hair out of her eyes. “Ruth wants to get finished before Katie Rose and Mary Elizabeth.”
“I’m sorry. Get finished?”
“With the washing.”
Zane took a sip of his coffee. “So you and Katie Rose do your laundry on the same day.”
“Everyone does,” Ruth said.
“Everyone who’s Amish,” Annie explained. “So, of course, they race.”
Zane laughed. “Naturally.”
“But Katie Rose and Mary Elizabeth always win,” Ruth said.
Annie looked at Ruth. “And then Katie Rose goes over and helps Deacon Esh with his wash.”
Of course she did. She was just that kind of person.
“He doesn’t have anyone else to help him,” Ruth explained. “He’s an old man now, with no family to speak of.”
Zane nodded. “What can I do to help?”
Ruth shook her head. “Laundry is a woman’s work.”
“But I’m here to learn all I can about your traditions and customs. My article is for both men and women.”
Ruth relaxed her shoulders. “Then grab that basket, Zane Carson. You can hang whilst we wash and wring.”
Zane did as he was told, carrying the basket of water-heavy clothes to the line. Neither of the women should have been able to lift that much weight. How in the world had they managed all the Mondays before?
He reached for the first shirt on the pile, a blue button-down with tiny hand stitches. And as he hung it on the line, memories from his childhood came flooding back. Standing in the Oregon air, hanging clothes alongside his mother. He could see her clear enough in his head that he could reach out and touch her round face, brush her wild blonde curls from her eyes, plant a kiss on her sun-pinkened cheek.
He shook the thought away. Being in Oklahoma had brought back so many memories of his youth. Things he hadn’t thought about in years. Once the fire had taken his parents, his uncle came to get him. From that point on, he’d lived in Chicago, a world away from their small cooperative. Tim Carson had been Zane’s only living relative, and fate had cruelly taken him too.
That tiny part of Zane that needed a family had long since been destroyed. No use wishing for something he couldn’t have. Not that he even thought he wanted one. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about the possibility of a family. Ever. He wouldn’t know what to do with one.
Now he was practically engaged. Marriage usually meant family, but he and Monica had never talked about it. He made a mental note to bring it up the next time he called her. Or better yet, face-to-face when he was back in Chicago.
The thought of starting a family, then shipping out on assignment didn’t seem fair. Her family had enough money to support them, but . . . well, that was out of the question. She said she understood his need to work. Would she understand this? She wasn’t exactly the maternal type.
Katie Rose drifted into his thoughts. Pretty as you please, the striking image of Monica was replaced by the honey-haired vision who lived next door. Now she was maternal. One look at how she cared for Samuel and any fool could see that. Katie Rose cared for her brother’s children as she would care her own, but according to her assessment, she would never have any. That’s not what she believed God had planned for her.
He tried not to laugh at the idea as he reached for the next shirt, another blue one, almost the same shade as the first.
Katie Rose would make a wonderful mother. He knew the school would be sad to lose her as the instructor, but she was destined to be a mom. He saw it in the gentle brush of her fingers across Samuel’s brow, the silence in her eyes as she mentally accounted for them at the school, her watchful gaze as she trailed them home. Still, she said she was too old for marriage.
“Tell me,” he said, reaching for the next article of clothing and stretching for a clothespin. “Do women get married young around here?”
“Jah,” Ruth said, nearly shouting over the roar of the machine engine. “Most girls join up when they’re about twenty. It is nothin’ unusual to have a marriage one year and a baby the next.”
A baby at twenty-one. That seemed on the young side, but then so did motherhood at twenty-five. He knew women in their forties who were just getting around to starting their families. So what made Katie Rose so certain that a family wasn’t part of God’s plan for her?
He looked down the row of clothes he had just hung. Either Ruth and Annie liked to wash in color sequence or blue was a prominent color in the Amish world. He dragged the basket around the end of the pole and started down the other side. Amazing what he remembered from his childhood days. Using a common clothespin for two items came back as naturally as walking. He smiled, pleased with himself.
Next shirt up was green, then blue, followed by dark blue. “Tell me, Ruth. Do the Amish have something against red?”
“It’s too flashy to practice humility.”
He gave that some thought. He supposed red could be considered showy. And just in his short time with the Amish he understood their need to blend, to be as one. “And yellow?”
Ruth gave him a quiet smile. “We reserve the showy colors to decorate our flower beds. We wear the colors of serenity.”
“So purple’s okay?” he asked, holding up an eggplant-colored dress.
“Only certain shades,” Ruth explained. “If the bishop finds it too bright or boastful, he’ll send one of the ministers to have a talk with the person in question.”
He blinked, trying to take that all in. It seemed controlling, almost cultish, but he hadn’t really seen anything to make him believe the Amish were more bent toward a cult than a normal run-of-the-mill religion.
Annie must have heard something in his tone, as she approached and said, “It’s important for the church members to stand united before God, show their trust in Him. Their obedience. It’s not about color as much as it’s about reverence. Being part of something bigger than oneself.”
Ruth smiled. “Well put, my dear.”
“Danki.”
“You understand now?” Ruth asked Zane.
“I’m going to have to think about that awhile.”
This, it seemed, was something entirely different.
He made a mental note to talk to Annie about it. What better way to find out about the differences between the Amish and the English than talking to a convert?
Once the clothes were hung, they went in to have breakfast. The sky had turned the most beautiful shade of lavender that faded to blue, promising a beautiful day.
“How will we know if we’ve won the laundry standoff?”
Annie smiled. “I haven’t seen Katie Rose drive by yet, so I’d say we did it.”
Zane couldn’t stop his smile. Maybe because the news brought one to Ruth’s face as well. Then he realized this had more to do with being capable than it did about being first. Ruth had to prove to herself, despite her treatments, despite her cancer, that she still had it. The woman had spunk, he had to hand it to her.
“Katie Rose drives by each day?”
“Only on Mondays when she goes to help Deacon Esh.”
“Right.” Zane snapped his fingers, in remembrance. “She helps him do his laundry, after she does her own, then she goes to teach school?” Amazing.
“After she cooks breakfast.”
“And in the evening?”
“She takes care of the family,” Ruth said with a shrug, but Zane could see the light of admiration in Annie’s eyes. That was a lot of work for one person, but such effort was looked upon favorably in the district. As it should be. Hard work like that should never go unnoticed. Surely a woman who worked that hard for others would be a prime catch for an Amish man. So maybe her fate was more a personal choice than anything else. But why was she so against marriage? It didn’t have anything to do with his story, but Zane made a mental note to find out the answer.
Zane was about to head down the stairs for afternoon chores when his cell phone rang. “Hello?”