Between Two Worlds

by Shelter Somerset

  Seed splatter on the house covered a radius of about three feet from the center of impact. The basketball-sized pumpkin must have been thrown from the street, he surmised. By someone strong enough to have hurled it with such velocity. He stood and looked about for a sign of anyone. He saw nothing: no people, no cars, no bicyclist racing away. Not even a horse-drawn buggy. All his neighbors, typical for seven o’clock in the morning, were as quiet as chipmunks. The sun was just nudging above the roofs of their houses. The older inhabitants were probably comfortably sipping coffee at their kitchen tables, wondering how to fill another day. He wondered if whoever threw the pumpkin wasn’t trying to aim for his window. He’d lucked out, he supposed. It could’ve been much worse.

  Whoever threw it may have been playing a random prank. Halloween was a couple of weeks away. English youth were gearing up for the celebrations. Maybe they had chosen his house because his was the last one on the street, making it an easier getaway onto the main thoroughfare.

  He carried that thought, along with the pumpkin’s remains, to the trash receptacle by the side of the detached garage, ready to forget all about it. On the way back to the house, he stopped in his tracks. For the first time he noticed the writing on his front door. Someone had spray-painted in red block lettering: GET OUT OF TOWN.

  Chapter 21

  Daniel, choring with his father in the horse pen on a brilliantly sunny afternoon, noticed his father studying him. He was thankful the early weeks of autumn brought another warm day, so that his father would not take his sweating as a sign of nervousness. They were cleaning the concrete water troughs, and much exertion was needed to scrub them free from the grime that could make their horses sick. Boris, their hound, lay in the shade of the barn while his masters toiled.

  “You’re spending a lot of time with that Englisher, don’t you think?” Samuel finally said.

  Daniel tensed and tried to compose himself. If only there was a way he could just run. He chewed on his lower lip, wishing he were anywhere other than with his father. He had dreaded the day when his father would mention his relationship with Aiden. He had smelled it coming for weeks.

  After catching his father eyeing them so suspiciously during the threshing, the haunting fears kept rearing up like those huge English eighteen-wheelers barreling down the road. He could never face the community’s shunning, much less his father’s. But as the days passed, keeping away from Aiden was not so easy. He’d tried to keep on the cold exterior. To shrug him off. Yet, whenever he did, he would be gripped with guilt. It had even kept him up at night. The last thing on earth he wanted was to hurt Aiden Cermak. He was such a fine man, after all.

  Such a turbulent ride of emotions—guilt for being with Aiden, guilt for staying away.

  Lately he had heeded nothing of what those voices in his head warned. Even visions of his father’s disapproving gaze at the threshing had failed to blot out his good feelings. But now, with his father’s eyes burning new holes into him, those feelings turned to alarm.

  He knew he should have been more cautious and avoided the Englishman. Picturing in his mind his giving Aiden those shussly flowers made his throat tighten. Why hadn’t he practiced more discretion?

  “What do you mean, that Englisher?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

  “Aiden Cermak. You’re with him a lot these days.”

  Kneeling by his trough, Daniel scrubbed with excessive vigor, as if trying to scrub away Samuel’s worrying words. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Your mom and me think you spend too much time with him,” Samuel said. “I notice you’re with him more and more.”

  “I thought you liked Aiden,” Daniel said, eyes on his scrubbing. “He saved our lives, remember?”

  “Ya, I like him a lot.” Samuel sounded annoyed. “And I remember all that he’s done for us. I’m grateful to him. But we wonder why you’re with him so much.”

  Daniel tasted the bile in his mouth. “I’m not with him that much,” he said, forcing firmness into his voice.

  “Your mom and me, we worry.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Samuel’s scrubbing was less enthusiastic. Daniel knew the harsh October sun made the difficult chore wearing for his middle-aged father. Wiping the sweat from under his straw hat, Samuel sat on his haunches. Boris lifted his head and stared at his master, his tail wagging. When Samuel failed to move, the hound gently lay his head back down.

  “You’re close with him now,” Samuel said, “maybe too close.”

  “He’s just a friend of the family,” Daniel said. “We run into each other a lot, that’s all. He works across from the shop. It’s hard to avoid him sometimes. He even has supper with us. First you complain that I’m being rude to him; now you complain I’m being too friendly.”

  “No one is complaining.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “We worry.”

  “There’s no need to.”

  “People see you parked at his house a lot. They mention it, in passing.”

  Had anyone spied him handing Aiden a bouquet of daisies, spotlighted by his door lamp? Trying to control his nerves, Daniel said, “Shouldn’t they mind their own business? They’re all nawslich.”

  “No one is being nosy; you can be friends with whoever you want. It’s just that they, your mom and me, we all worry. We worry that you’ll leave the church.”

  Daniel’s hand froze over the scrub brush. He looked up at his father. “What?”

  “We worry that you being with Aiden so much might make you, well…. We worry that maybe he’s tempting you with the fancy ways and you’ll want to leave the Amish.”

  Daniel began scrubbing again, turning his grinning face from his father.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, giddy with relief. “Aiden isn’t tempting me to leave the church.” He almost wanted to laugh out loud as the sickness in his stomach eased. Thank goodness that was all this was about, and not what he’d feared.

  “We like the Englishman,” Samuel said, “but we worry; we don’t want you to get too comfortable with the English life.”

  “If anything, we’re probably tempting Aiden to become plain.” Daniel snickered. “You know how he admires us Amish.”

  “That may be,” Samuel said. “But you know almost no English become Amish. It’s as common as fireflies in January.”

  “It’s uncommon for Amish to become English too.”

  “Ya, but it happens, that’s my point. The community has lost four of its youth rumspringa this year.”

  “That’s still a small number, and they may yet come back.”

  “Ya, but we want our children to stay in the church, especially after they been baptized. You know, once you been baptized and you leave the church, there’s the shunning. That’ll be hard on you, hard on the whole family. Think about that,” Samuel said, and he bent back to his scrubbing.

  “I’m not leaving the church,” Daniel asserted.

  “We know how hard it’s been these last few months,” Samuel said into the trough. “It’s been hard on all of us, but these are the times when we keep our faith, and build on it, make it stronger.”

  “I haven’t lost my faith.”

  Samuel waved a horsefly from his face. “Just remember, da Hah has His own plans for us; we can’t complain about it. Losing Esther and Zachariah and your farm, I know how that’s been hard for you. It will be hard for your mom and me to lose Leah someday too. Sometimes we don’t always understand God’s will, but you must know that He’s doing what’s best for us. He knows us well. God, too, lost a child. He sacrificed His only son so that those who follow Him could have everlasting life in Heaven.”

  Daniel was not annoyed as he listened to his father’s frets. He was just so relieved that Samuel’s concern was about apostasy and nothing else. “I’m not leaving the church,” he said.

  “Goot.”

  A moment later Samuel stood up with a crack of his bones. He tossed his brush into
the trough, startling Boris. The hound jumped up, shook himself then wobbled to a shadier spot near the buggy shed and lay down, this time uninterested in following his master anywhere.

  “I’m done with this scrubbing,” Samuel said, stretching his back. “Ach, to be young again.”

  Watching his father lumber toward the house, Daniel marveled at his faith, as sturdy as the concrete troughs he was scrubbing. Daniel’s faith proved not so strong. He believed in God, but he often wondered why so many of his prayers went unanswered.

  Seldom did he ask God for anything material. He simply asked for answers. What were the reasons why the things that happened to him happened, and what was he to glean from them? And more and more since Aiden Cermak had crashed into his life: Why was he the way he was? Did God make him that way to test him or was he bad in some way? He’d always looked for the clues that he had asked God to provide him, though he had found none.

  Questioning God’s will he knew was hochmut, haughty, yet he wondered why there were so many sinkholes in his life to circumvent, so many obstacles to avoid, when he thought himself a good, God-fearing man.

  He hadn’t rejected God. But at times he wondered if God had not rejected him.

  He looked to Boris, still resting in the shade of the shed without a care in the world. If only his life could be as uncomplicated as a dog’s, Daniel mused.

  Turning back to the water trough with a sigh, he began scrubbing the grime with extra resolve.

  “There’s talk of your English friend,” Tara said Church Sunday as Daniel drove her home from the Plank’s, where services had been held. Gertrude led them at walking speed along the blacktop, which was plastered with wet leaves from an earlier rain. Autumn’s first real chill nipped at them as they sat in the carriage with a woolen blanket laid across their laps.

  “What do you mean, talk?” Daniel tightened his grip on the reins, anxious. Up until now, Tara had been quiet. He knew she was percolating with something, ready to singe him with her words. She’d become testy with him lately. He could hardly blame her. His remoteness was trying even Tara’s old-fashioned values. Scrunching his nose, he braced himself.

  “People are saying he’s trying to harm our community,” Tara said.

  “Trying to harm our community?” Daniel brought his shoulders to his ears. He feared another lecture about his friendship with Aiden. “How’s he doing that?”

  “He’s reporting in that paper bad things about us.” Tara flashed Daniel a sharp look. “Writing things like we abuse drugs.”

  Daniel relaxed, lessening his grip on the reins, and sniggered. “Is that all?”

  “Is that all?” Tara lifted her pointy nose toward the gray sky. “Isn’t that enough?”

  “He’s not trying to harm our community,” Daniel said, trying to ease Tara’s mood, as chilly as the weather. “He admires us.”

  “Is that what he’s been telling you? If that’s the case, why is he reporting all those bad things about us?”

  “What do you mean, us? He reported on one boy who was doing something he shouldn’t have. How is that about all of us? The regional newspaper reported on Milo Rupp’s arrest too. Besides, that was a while ago. Most what he writes is good; I read some of it.”

  “He just puts in those good stories to fool people into thinking he’s not trying to make us look bad.”

  “Who’s putting such unsinn in your head?”

  “It’s not nonsense. Writing about us Amish doing drugs; it’s horrible.”

  Daniel peered ahead at the slick, leafy blacktop. He’d grown tired of this conversation even before it got underway. “Maybe he’s trying to help the community by reporting those things, ever thought of that? The fact is it does happen; why should we pretend it doesn’t? We’re not saints, you know, Tara.”

  “I know that, but what about that other stuff? He’s been trying to dig up dirt on Kyle Yoder. I heard he’s trying to make Kyle’s suicide look like a murder. What proof does he have anything like that?”

  Daniel remained wordless. He didn’t know what proof Aiden had, yet the thought concerned him. He, too, had heard rumors of Aiden’s investigation, but had hoped nothing would come of it. He wished too much that Aiden would drop the entire Kyle Yoder story. He realized he partially agreed with Tara and many others in the community, and this disturbed him.

  “You should stay away from him,” Tara said.

  Daniel glanced at her, forcing his respect for Aiden to resurface. “You forget what he did for my family, that he saved us from tragedy?”

  Tara folded her slender arms across the bib of her white cape. “He didn’t do all that.”

  “He for sure did, and you know all what my family’s been through.”

  “Daniel, of course I do,” Tara said, softening her tone. She leaned toward Daniel. “I don’t mean to sound like a dummkop. I’m grateful what he’s done for you and your family, really, but maybe you’re letting him get too close. Maybe he’s taking advantage of you so that he can report bad things about us. You know how those reporters can be.”

  Tara’s nudging words forced Daniel to sit up. He did know how reporters could be. Pushy, judgmental, even deceitful. Was Aiden any of those things?

  Leery of Aiden at first, Daniel had grown to trust him. He had shucked aside those old distrustful feelings. Aiden had proved to be a worthy friend. Someone to even admire. Still, nagging feelings had emerged anew whenever he was with him. Aiden was “studying” him, looking at him as a project. He hated those thoughts, but couldn’t help thinking them.

  He found himself trying to defend Aiden while at the same time believing some of the absurd gossip Tara was recounting. “He’s just doing his job,” he said with a sigh.

  “He’s nawslich,” Tara grunted. “Sticking his nose in other people’s business to make us look bad.”

  “He might be a bit nosey, but I can tell you for sure, if he’s making us look bad, he’s not doing it on purpose.”

  “What difference does it make? He’s an outsider butting in.”

  Daniel listened to her words. An outsider? Wasn’t Daniel a bit of an outsider himself? Lately he felt like one. Perhaps he always had.

  “It will all come to pass,” he said. He tugged on Gertrude’s reins, encouraging her to go faster, to get Tara home and be done with this conversation.

  Tara settled back in her seat and gathered her black shawl around her shoulders. “Just best you stay away from him in the meantime. He’s bad news.”

  Chapter 22

  He handed Daniel another cold can of Dad’s Root Beer and sat next to him on the sofa. He made sure to always have Daniel’s favorite pop on hand for whenever he stopped by. They were watching television, a bowl of microwave popcorn between them. The television’s volume was low, since Daniel always complained about the jarring racket. Aiden respected his feelings whenever he visited by keeping the sound low, or shutting the set off entirely.

  That evening Aiden left the television on, sensing they both could use the distraction. When he had answered the light knock at his front door to see Daniel standing there, he was elated, but Daniel was visibly disturbed about something. Three weeks had passed since they had last spent any significant time together. He only wished Daniel wasn’t so preoccupied. It seemed the entire community was edgy lately.

  Neither had ever mentioned that night Daniel had given Aiden flowers. There was a tacit agreement, no matter how difficult it was for Aiden to accept, that both needed to forget it had ever happened. When Daniel had stepped inside the house, Aiden caught him eyeballing the wilted bouquet that still sat in the vase on his dining table. He was uncertain what his grimace had meant. He supposed he should have tossed the decayed flowers out; he still could not bring himself to do it.

  They sat as still as oat shocks. Only their arms and mouths moved as they munched on popcorn and sipped pops, Aiden not even knowing quite what they were watching on television. They made small talk now and then about the spring oat crop and the new cu
rio cabinet Daniel had just custom crafted for a judge in Champaign. Aiden talked about his reporter’s job, refraining from mentioning anything about Kyle Yoder.

  “I’m worried, Aiden,” Daniel said finally, popping open a new can of root beer, foam spitting out. He took a sip before resting it on his thick thigh.

  “What is it? I could tell something’s been on your mind.”

  “It’s you.” Daniel settled back in his seat, gripping his can of root beer as if it were a club, his left hand clasping his knee.