by Amy Lillard
Katie Rose would tell him to pray about it. He smiled just thinking of her.
“It is good you have something to smile about, Zane Carson.” John Paul pressed his lips together, worry lines etched into his young face.
“I was thinking about . . .” He shook his head. “What time will the driver be here?”
“Soon, I ’spect.”
They stood at the door of the barn watching Ruth and Abram as they waited, sitting on the porch, the sun shining on their faces. Neither acknowledged the other, and Zane’s worries of the night before resurfaced. He’d grown to care for the couple. They had taken him in, fed and clothed him, as it were. They were kind and caring people who deserved everything life had to offer them.
He remembered Katie Rose telling him that Amish couples didn’t normally marry for love, but he figured that after so many years together, Ruth and Abram would at least be friends. He looked at their children, and somehow he had a feeling that Ruth and Abram cared for one another. It was obvious that Gideon loved Annie, and Zane had heard about his grief over his first wife’s death. They had told him how much Gabriel had loved his wife, Rebecca, so much so that he never married after her death, and Katie Rose herself had admitted that she had loved Samuel Beachy to the point of waiting for him for years. Yes, the Fishers believed in marriages based in love as well as faith. And yet Ruth and Abram sat side by side like strangers at a bus stop on what was perhaps one of the most important days of their lives.
“Are you still goin’ to town?” John Paul’s question pulled Zane out of his thoughts.
He nodded. “I thought I’d wait until your mother left. See if your father wants to go with me in the buggy.”
“I don’t have to be at work today. I can take you if you change your mind. I promise to drive safely.”
Zane smiled. “I’ve kind of gotten used to buggy travel. Besides it’s a beautiful day. Now if it were snowing . . .” he recalled John Paul screeching around corners and himself hanging on for dear life. “Scratch that.”
For once in what seemed like days, John Paul chuckled. The tension eased, and Zane had the warm feeling that everything was going to be just fine.
Katie Rose couldn’t stop the joy she felt when she saw her father’s buggy pull up outside the schoolhouse. It wasn’t the buggy that caused her such joy, but the man driving it. Zane had come to see her. She smoothed down her apron and adjusted her prayer kapp. Why? She had no idea. The day’s worries had left her feeling a bit disheveled. It wasn’t at all because she was happy to see him, and for certain not because she wanted him to think her beautiful. Englisch beauty was much more complicated than what the Amish saw. She didn’t stand a chance against the woman he was to marry.
“All right, kinder, keep lookin’ over your parts. Matthew, go over it with them, and I’ll be right back.”
She forced herself to cross the room slowly, stopping at the door and taking in a heaving breath before opening it. “Good mornin’, Zane Carson. What brings you by today?”
It had been days since she had seen him last, but that hadn’t stopped her from making sure she looked her very best on the off chance that she did encounter him. He was, after all, living with her elders. He was also writing a story for his fancy magazine, and she wouldn’t want to give him a bad impression about how the Plain folk lived their lives. At least that’s what she told herself every morning when she stood in front of her closet painstakingly choosing the dress she wanted to wear that day. It was shameful indeed, and she had asked the Lord’s forgiveness for such vanity. Yet everyday it reared its head and demanded her attention.
He smiled and the entire world seemed a brighter place. “I came into town to charge my cell phone.”
She nodded, thinking back to the little phones that Englischers carried with them. The bishop had been trying to decide whether or not to let them use one for their pickle business and instead had decided upon a phone shanty in the field across from the house. But Katie Rose had heard tell of districts who weren’t even Beachy Amish and were allowed to carry the shiny little phones.
“I offered it to your mother so she’d know right away when the doctors called with her test results.”
“That’s mighty kind of you, Zane Carson.”
He smiled again, and she noticed how straight and white his teeth were. Except for the bottom two. They overlapped a little, reminding her of being a child and crossing her fingers for luck.
“You know, that’s the exact same thing your father said.”
Katie Rose laughed.
“Have you eaten lunch?
She shook her head. “We’ve been practicin’ for the Christmas program next week.”
He held up a sack from one of the diners in town. “I stopped by and picked us up a couple of cheeseburgers.”
The thought of sharing lunch with him was more thrilling than it should have been. But Zane was good company, like a burst of color in a world where things were growing weary.
She’d have to ask forgiveness for that as well. There were some colors that weren’t allowed in the Amish world—too bright, too bold, too vain. For right now, she’d just enjoy his company and beseech the Lord later.
She opened the door a little wider aware only then that the students had stopped practicing. They were watching her and the Englischer with an unabashed curiosity.
“Children, put your scripts way. It is time for lunch.”
Choruses of Can we go outside? rose from all corners of the room. It was hard in the winter to keep the children both healthy and well exercised, but today was a fine day to let them run in the cold winter sunshine.
“Of course. Everyone get your lunch boxes and follow Simon out the door.”
“I thought I was line leader today,” Mary Byler asked in her sweet, tiny voice.
Zane Carson had rattled Katie Rose until she forgot even the simplest of her duties. “Right you are, Mary. My apologies to you. Everyone line up behind Mary. We’ll stay out for half an hour, then we all have math tests to complete.”
There were mixed groans all over the room. Half an hour was not enough time and surely not worth cutting short for a math exam. Maybe she would let them stay out a bit longer. As long as their cheeks didn’t get too pink. She wanted to spend as much time with the Englischer as she could.
She didn’t have to tell the children again. They donned their coats as fast as they could and lined up behind little Mary, everyone with lunch box in hand.
In no time at all, she and Zane were seated under the big oak in front of the schoolhouse. The smell coming from the bag was more than tempting. Only occasionally did they stop at the diner to eat. More often than not, eating at a restaurant was a luxury the Gabriel Fisher family had no time to indulge in.
Zane sat cross-legged in front of her, doling out the food. “Fries?” He held up the steaming potatoes in their tiny, white paper sack.
Katie Rose’s mouth watered and she nodded. “Jah.”
“A cheeseburger for me. And one for you”—he handed her the wrapped sandwich—“And one for Samuel.” He pulled another smaller cheeseburger from the sack.
Katie Rose bit her lip, staring at the feast in front of them.
“What’s wrong?” He stopped unwrapping his own sandwich and turned those chocolate brown eyes on her.
“It’s just that the other boys will feel left out.”
Zane pressed his lips together and nodded. “And I was so proud of myself for remembering to bring one for Samuel.”
“Oh, I’m grateful, Zane Carson. Please do not think otherwise.”
He smiled. “I don’t.”
“It’s just . . .” She wasn’t sure how to tell him what was wrong. He’d brought her food, and French fried potatoes and even remembered to bring enough to feed little Samuel.
“
I’ve got an idea. You brought lunch right?”
She nodded. “I have a thermos of stew and some sourdough bread.”
“Perfect. How about we share the burgers with the boys, and then you can share your stew with me. Sound like a plan?”
She smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”
The two youngest boys, Samuel included, shared a half of one of the fancy cheeseburgers. Zane split the other in two pieces and everyone got at least a half. French fries were passed around, and everyone seemed content.
“This is mighty kind of you, Zane Carson.”
He shrugged those broad shoulders of his as if it had been no hardship at all to accommodate the entire Fisher clan. He was a good man this Zane Carson.
“I haven’t had one of these in so long.” He closed his eyes, the complete enjoyment showing clearly on his face.
Katie Rose had to admit, the cheeseburger was very delicious. She glanced at him. “Do you miss your life back home, being here?”
He held up the little bit left of his sandwich. “This I do. When I go out on assignment, this is the first thing I get when I return. Well, right after a hot shower.”
She smiled thinking about Zane returning from wherever the assignment was and ordering a cheeseburger. Then she remembered that he had been shot on his last trip. The smile froze on her lips. The thought of him injured, bleeding, possibly near death sent chills through her. War was such a waste of time, such a waste of life.
“What else do you miss?” she asked, needing to change the subject for her own sake.
“Tacos.”
“I have eaten tacos. They are delicious as well.”
He squinted at her, the sunlight through the trees chasing shadows across his face. “What kind of tacos?”
“There are different kinds?” Why did Englisch food have to be so complicated?
“Did you get the kind from a restaurant, or did you make them at home?”
“From a restaurant in Tulsa. We went there a couple of years ago to take Samuel to the doctor.”
“Aw, then you’ve not really had tacos.”
She frowned. “I haven’t?”
“Nope. Because you haven’t had my tacos.”
“You can cook?” She didn’t mean for her words to ring so loudly with disbelief, but she could not picture Zane Carson behind a stove.
He shrugged that one shoulder again making her wonder if his injury caused the unbalanced action. “I dabble some. Tacos are the one thing I learned to make when I was growing up. My uncle taught me.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe he’d picked now to bring that memory to life. His voice held a misty quality like he was miles away inside his head. “Every Tuesday night we made tacos together. Like a real family.”
“I don’t understand. What do you mean like a real family? Was he not your uncle?”
“He was.”
“Then he was family.”
Zane nodded. “Yes, but we didn’t do a lot together. He was always at work, and . . . I dunno. We just didn’t spend a lot of time together. Not like your family.”
“That makes me sad for you, Zane Carson. You have missed much in your life.” So badly she wanted to reach out a hand and smooth it down his face, run her fingertips across his lips and ease the pain she saw in his eyes.
“I survived.”
“Jah. But have you lived?”
Katie Rose’s words followed him all the way back into town. He couldn’t fathom why. Of course he had lived. He had traipsed through the jungles of Africa, walked amid the pyramids of Egypt, hiked through the mountains of Afghanistan. If that wasn’t living, he didn’t know what was.
The biggest mystery was why her words bothered him in the first place. It wasn’t as if he’d asked her opinion. He wasn’t worried about his future plans and outcomes. He had it all figured out. This job was just a means to an end.
He pulled the buggy up to the hitching post in front of the general store. The idea to run back by the school and visit again with Katie Rose after his errand was oh-so tempting. Twice was bad enough. He could play the first time off as research for his article, but twice in one day could be easily misconstrued. No, he’d better retrieve his cell phone and get back to the house.
He gave one of the horses a pat on the neck, then fed each of them one of the carrots he’d put in his pocket before the trip. Carrots were a lot cheaper than fossil fuels. Maybe there was a story in that too: The Carbon Footprint of the Amish. It would be a very short book.
He laughed at himself for going soft, then pulled open the door of the old-timey store. Enchanted. The word popped into his mind again as he stepped through the doors, planked floors underneath the soles of his boots, lazy fans turning overhead. Today it offered warmth by the potbellied stove and hot chocolate at the soda fountain.
Zane waved to the patrons who greeted him, tipped his hat to the owner, Coln Anderson, then went to warm his hands by the stove.
“Are you certain it will be here by Christmas?”
He didn’t hear Coln’s response to the shopper as the word Christmas pinged through his head. How could he have forgotten about Christmas? Maybe because it wasn’t a big deal to him. Never had been.
But it should be.
There was that voice again. Why? he wanted to shout in return, but it was a bit frightening to argue with oneself. Instead, he looked around, for the first time seeing the decorations of red and green all over the store. That was what really bothered him about Christmas—the commercialism. Retailers profited greatly this time of year by getting people to buy things they couldn’t afford for a list of people they rarely saw. And for what?
As his eyes darted about the store, he noticed no Santa Claus faces. There were a few snowflakes and a couple of snowmen, but what struck him was the huge star hanging in the back of the store over a nativity scene carved out of wood.
Zane left the warmth of the stove and, as if mesmerized, walked toward the star. The stable, manger, and all the characters seemed to be hand carved out of a bleached wood, giving them the appearance of aged ivory. He picked up the statue of Mary, turning the carving over in his hands and examining every detail. Her robe flowed from her body, her head tilted at a peaceful angle. But she had no face. None of them did. No eyes on the animals, no mouths, just a blank surface where features should have been. Somehow this oversight made them all the more beautiful.
How had he not noticed these this morning?
“Did you come to get your phone?”
Zane jumped, then put the Mary in her spot behind the manger. “Yeah, I did.”
Coln nodded toward the statues. “They’re beautiful, huh?”
Zane nodded.
“There’s a man in Missouri who carves them for the Amish folk.”
“It must take forever to make a whole set.”
“He can only finish a few each year, but this is the first Christmas the bishop has allowed them in his homes.”
Zane looked at the depiction of the birth of Jesus. How could anyone deny its beauty and art? “I don’t understand.”
“Bishop Beachy was worried that it would cause pride and envy among his followers.”
“I want one.” The words slipped from his mouth without any warning. “In fact, I want two.” One for Ruth and Abram and one for him. For the art of it, he told himself. Something that beautiful was just too good to pass by.
Coln shook his head. “I know I can get one for you, but the other might be a little tricky. Could I send it to you?”
“Of course.” Even if it came in time for next Christmas it would be a wonderful gift for . . . Monica. He’d be married to Monica next year.
They had never talked about religion; the matter had never come up. But with the revelations he’d had on this trip, it would be a good i
dea to have that conversation soon. Not that it changed things. Still, he wanted to know how she felt before they walked down the aisle.
Coln went behind the counter and unplugged Zane’s cell phone. “Come back up front and I’ll ring that up for you.”
Zane nodded. “I will, but I need to shop some more.”
Christmas was only a couple of weeks away. He’d be spending the Christian holiday with the Fishers, and he couldn’t imagine not having any gifts for them on Christmas morning. He had never before bought Christmas presents, and the idea of giving gifts on the holiday was strangely thrilling. He felt like the Grinch when his heart grew two sizes.
He mentally started making a list in his head. He needed something for all of Gabe’s boys, Mary Elizabeth, Annie, and Gideon. And one more.
He put his cell phone in his pocket, and a smile on his face as he started looking around for the perfect gift for Katie Rose.
Zane went through the remainder of the day like he had a secret. In a way, he supposed that was true, but this joy over buying gifts for his host was unexpected.
He pulled the wagon into the drive, hopped down, and immediately walked the horses toward the barn. The house looked quiet so he could only suppose that Abram was still out, and that Annie had gone to spend the afternoon with Gideon.
Zane smiled and unhitched the horses. Today had been a beautiful day. He could only hope that Ruth’s day had been as wondrous. It would be a while before they knew the test results, but he had hoped she would find some bright spot in today and that the worry lines between her eyes would be softened.
He got the horses some water, brushed them down, and poured some fresh oats in their trough. By the time he was finished, he heard the purr of an engine. Ruth was home.
He shaded his eyes as he stepped from the dark interior of the barn. A car door slammed and then another.
“Bill Foster,” he called, raising his other hand in greeting.
Bill waved in return. “Well, if it ain’t Zane Carson. I almost didn’t recognize you, boy.”