The sun is nearly down by the time we reach the end of the row. “I can barely see,” I tell Zach as we finally stop.
“Ja, I know, but I wanted to get as much done as possible. As it is, I’m afraid the planting won’t be finished before it’s time to leave tomorrow.”
“What time do we have to leave?” I ask.
“If your dad wants us there by 3:00, we’ll need to leave before noon.” Zach is removing the horse’s harness now.
“Really?” I blink. “It’ll take three hours? My dad said the airfield’s only about fifteen minutes from town.”
“Fifteen minutes in a car,” he reminds me.
“Oh . . . yeah.” I try not to feel stupid.
“You go ahead and get your supper,” Zach tells me. “I’ll see to the horse. I want to give Molly her medicine too.”
“I’m going to call my dad first, to figure out tomorrow.”
“Don’t let anyone hear you,” he warns. “That is, if you mention the part about me going up in your dad’s plane.”
“I’ll be discreet.” Keeping his concerns in mind, I go around to the other side of the barn, standing next to the corral as I make my call.
“Micah,” Dad says happily. “How are you doing?”
I give him an update on the corn planting, describing what a beautiful sunset I just witnessed. “It really is pretty here in the country.” I let out a tired sigh. “But I’m ready to come home.”
“I can’t wait to see you, sweetie. It’s been a long few days.”
“I miss you too, Dad,” I admit. “More than you know.”
“It’s just not the same around here without you. Makes me glad that you’re not heading off to some faraway college in the fall. I think I might die of loneliness.”
“Oh, Dad.” I wish I could hug him. “That reminds me of something.” I tell him about Katy offering me the little gray-and-white kitten. More than ever I want to bring her home now. It will be like having a piece of the farm with me. “Would it be okay, Dad? I mean, compared to dogs, cats are very low maintenance. And very independent. Do you mind?”
“It’s up to you, sweetie. As long as you promise to take full responsibility for it, I’m okay with it.”
“No problem. She’ll sleep in my bedroom, and I’ll keep the litter box in my bathroom. You’ll hardly know she’s there.”
“All right. As for tomorrow, I plan to fly into Davis around 3:00. The freight I’m picking up is supposed to be there no later than 4:00. So if you kids can be at the airstrip before 3:00, we’ll have plenty of time to take Zach up and show him around some.”
“That means we’ll have to leave here before noon,” I inform him.
“What?”
I remind him about the speed of a horse-drawn buggy.
He chuckles. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that.”
“I just realized that will be six hours on the road for Zach. Not that he’ll complain. He’s so excited about this. But hopefully he’ll make it home before dark.”
“Poor Zach. Hey, how about if I call one of the guys on the ground there in Davis? Maybe someone can loan me a car to get him back and forth.”
“That’d be awesome, Dad. We might even be able to get the last of the cornfield planted if we have a couple extra hours in the morning.”
“I’ll see what I can do first thing tomorrow,” he promises. “I’ll call or text you about it.”
I thank him, and after we finally hang up, I take a moment to send a quick text to Lizzie. Already she’s sent me about twenty throughout the day, informing me that she’s back home now and wondering when I’m coming back and if I’m okay. I don’t even take the time to read them all. Instead I promise to call her later tonight. Hopefully I won’t forget.
I can tell by the slit of lantern light that Zach is still in the barn, but because I’m seriously hungry, I decide to venture into the house on my own. My guess is that supper will be over and the girls will be cleaning up the kitchen. At least that’s what I hope.
But after I wash up in the laundry sink, I’m surprised to see that the kitchen is already clean, and Mrs. Miller is sitting at the kitchen table with her sewing basket and what looks like a pair of small black trousers spread out in front of her.
“Good evening,” I say politely.
“Good evening,” she responds without looking up.
“We worked late.” I stand there just watching her. Hunched over, she’s intent on what she’s stitching, mending what appears to be a torn knee. She doesn’t have on her white kapp, which is typical for being in the house, and from this angle I can see that her hair, which was probably once as dark as Zach’s, is faded and streaked with gray. Pinned into a tight bun, it makes her already angular face look even sharper than usual. This, combined with the harsh overhead glare of a propane-powered light, makes her look like she’s very elderly. Zach once told me his parents’ ages, so I know that both of them are younger than my dad, but I never would’ve guessed it.
She frowns up at me with a disapproving expression. “What are you looking at?”
“I . . . uh . . . don’t know.”
“What do you want?”
I shrug, stifling the urge to say that something to eat might be nice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. I guess I’m just tired.” Tired and hungry.
She shakes her head, then returns her attention to mending.
“Why do you hate me so much?” I blurt out, instantly wishing I hadn’t.
“Hate you?” She looks up with surprise. “I don’t hate you, Micah.”
“Never mind.” I glance over my shoulder, hoping that Zach will show up and put an end to this conversation.
“I love you,” she says in a slightly flat tone. “The Bible tells me I must love everyone. Even my enemies.”
“Yeah . . . I know about that verse too.” Why did I even open my mouth?
“But the Bible does not say I must like you.” She bends her head back down, taking a moment to tie the thread into a knot, and then, just as Zach enters the kitchen, she snips it with the scissors, smiling up at him. “Zach, you worked so late. You must be very hungry.”
“I am.” He nods eagerly. “We both are, aren’t we, Micah?”
“Rachel?” Mrs. Miller calls out. “Zach is in from the field now.”
Almost instantly, Rachel appears and is suddenly bustling about the kitchen, cheerfully chatting as she readies food that’s been warming in the oven—hopefully for both of us. Although based on the treatment I’m getting from Mrs. Miller, I wouldn’t bet on it.
“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Zach says as he sits down at the table.
“My mamm says it’s too far to go back and forth to my house while I’m helping your mamm,” she tells Zach. “I can stay until the end of the week.”
“A very good plan,” Mrs. Miller says approvingly. “We appreciate it, Rachel.”
“But where will she sleep?” I ask. “The beds in the girls’ room are all taken.”
“Only until tomorrow night,” Rachel points out, reminding me that it’s my last night here. “But it’s all right. I can sleep anywhere.”
“You get Rachel what she needs to make a bed in the front room.” Mrs. Miller directs this to Zach. “Will that be all right for one night, Rachel?”
Rachel beams at her. “Ja. That is fine. But I don’t want anyone to go to any trouble for me.”
“It is no trouble.” Mrs. Miller smiles at Zach. “Is it?”
“No.” Zach looks caught off guard. “No trouble.”
“Good. You’ll find what you need in the linen closet by the bathroom,” his mom tells him. “Why don’t you help me up the stairs there while Rachel gets your supper ready?” She moves awkwardly to her feet, reaching for what looks like a makeshift cane to balance herself with. “Take my other arm,” she instructs. “Your daed has already gone to bed.”
“Want my help too?” I offer, remembering how it took both Zach and his dad to get her up the stairs l
ast night.
“No, thank you. Zach is enough.”
Feeling dismissed and disliked and ready to count the hours until I can finally see the last of Zach’s mother, I sit down at the table. I consider offering my assistance to Rachel but decide that she doesn’t want my help either. Besides, I am tired.
She’s just putting our plates on the table when Zach returns. Despite my crankiness, I can’t help but be pleased at the generous helping of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans with bacon, corn topped with butter, and fluffy white biscuits. Never mind that Dad would call this a heart attack on a plate. I’m too ravenous to care.
“This looks good,” I admit as I reach for my fork.
“Wait!” Rachel holds up a hand, then primly tips her head toward Zach, who is just bowing his head.
Feeling like an uncouth heathen, I lower my fork and bow my head, silently expressing a sincere, albeit brief, prayer of gratitude for this bounty. Fortunately, not even a minute passes before Zach utters, “Amen.”
We both eat in silence while Rachel busies herself at the kitchen sink. I have no idea what she’s doing since this place looked clean as a whistle when I came in here. Wishing she would leave us to eat in peace, I offer to clean up after we’re done.
“Katy and Sarah will come wash up,” she informs me as she sits down in Zach’s mom’s usual place. “The girls are doing schoolwork now. I just sent the boys and Ruthie to bed.”
“Oh . . . okay.” I return my attention to my meal. Clearly, Rachel has the Miller household under control. And that’s fine with me. She obviously has a need to demonstrate her domestic prowess. Probably to impress Zach. Whatever.
“Do you like the meatloaf?” Rachel hopefully asks Zach.
“Ja. It’s good,” he confirms with enthusiasm. “Very good.”
“It’s my own recipe.” She leans forward, and with elbows on the table, she rests her pretty chin on her folded hands and smiles. “Daed says it’s even better than Mamm’s.” She giggles. “But he doesn’t say it to Mamm.”
Of course, this removes some of this meal’s pleasure for me, but I continue to shovel in my food just the same. Mostly because I want to get out of here and away from the queen of the kitchen.
“Looks like someone was hungry.” Rachel points to my empty plate. “Want seconds?”
“No, thank you.” I stand. “I need to go make a phone call. Excuse me.” I quickly make my way back outside, where the air is fresh and cool and I can hide in the darkness as I turn on my phone and call Lizzie. “Hey,” I tell her, “I just needed to hear a friendly voice.”
“It’s about time you got back to me,” she scolds. “I was starting to think the worst.”
“The worst?” As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I move farther away from the house. I don’t want anyone in there to hear me—just in case I decide to let my hair down a bit.
“You know, like something from an Amish horror movie,” she explains. “Like you refused to convert to their religion, so they chained you up and locked you in the basement and have been feeding you bread and water. Or maybe they got out the ax and chopped you into tiny pieces and buried you in the cow pasture, or under the cabbages.”
“Oh, that is so lovely, Lizzie. Thanks for the indelible image.”
She laughs. “Okay, how about this one? They did get you to convert, and now you are married to Zach and already in a family way.”
“Oh, Lizzie!” Since she brought up the marriage thing, I am forced to tell her about Rachel Yoder, the perfect Amish bride. Naturally, Lizzie thinks this is hilarious.
“No way! I can’t believe my old pen pal is your nemesis! That’s crazy!” She shrieks so loudly I’m forced to hold the phone away from my ear, hoping that no one in the house hears her.
“Anyway, I’ll be home tomorrow,” I finally say. “I can fill you in on all the details then. I need to preserve what’s left of my phone battery for now.”
“You got lots of photos?” she asks hopefully.
“Yeah, mostly of the land and animals and stuff.”
“None of Zach?”
“Of course not.”
“Can’t you sneak one when he’s not looking?”
“Maybe, as long as I’m discreet about it. Hey, speaking of animals, I’m going to adopt one of their kittens.”
“No way! You’re getting a kitten? I’m the one who’s been wishing for a kitten—and even have permission from my mom to get one. So what does your kitten look like?”
I describe the gray-and-white kitten, and despite my battery concerns, I even pause to send her one of the photos I took the other day.
“They’re adorable,” she gushes. “I wish I could have one too, Micah.”
“You can if you want.”
“No way!” She shrieks again.
I describe the other two felines to her, and she decides she can’t live without the striped female with the white paws. “I’ll bring them home with me tomorrow,” I promise.
“I can’t wait. Thank you so much, Micah. What do you think I need for the kitty?”
“I don’t really know. I mean, besides food and stuff.” I remember how smelly it was getting in the woodshed. “And some kitty litter and a box.”
“I know what I’ll do,” she says with enthusiasm. “I’ll take Erika on a field trip to Pets R Us tomorrow. She loves to look at the fish and all that stuff. Want me to get anything for your kitty while we’re there?”
“Uh, sure. Maybe just the basic stuff. In case I get home late. Thanks, Lizzie.”
“Call me when you get home, okay?”
I promise I will, reminding her that I need to preserve some charge in my phone so Dad can call me tomorrow, and we both hang up.
I’m still reluctant to return to the house. Mostly because I don’t want any more encounters with Rachel, the domestic Amish goddess. Yes, I know it’s pathetic to be jealous of her. But I am. So I remain out here in the cold night air and darkness. On this side of the barn, I can’t even see the lights from the house. The only illumination is coming from the sky. I look up to see the stars and am stunned. They’re so clear and bright—and so many! I don’t know when I’ve ever seen the stars looking so incredibly big and bright. All I can do is stand there and gape in wonder.
Eventually the cold night air bites through my sweatshirt and I head back toward the house. Seeing the lights have been turned off in the kitchen, I quietly slip inside, hoping that everyone else has gone to bed by now.
As I creep through the darkened kitchen, I can see the golden glow of lamplight in the front room. And I can hear voices. I pause in the doorway and listen.
“Don’t go yet,” Rachel is saying in a sweet voice. “Your mamm said it’s all right for you to stay up, Zach. You don’t have school in the morning. Neither of us do.”
“I know, Rachel. But I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”
“Ja, but you can rest down here. Sit down. Put your feet up. Maybe you’d like me to rub them for you.”
Zach makes a chuckling sound. “Ja, that would probably feel good.”
“Come on, Zach. Sit down and relax. You’ve worked hard. You deserve some special attention.”
Suddenly I realize how bad this is going to look when they discover I’m eavesdropping. I don’t want to catch them getting all cozy together either—or Rachel sitting on the floor rubbing his feet. I tiptoe back through the kitchen, then loudly close the door and tromp back through. I act surprised to see them both still standing in the front room.
“Oh, sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
“I thought you went to bed,” Zach tells me.
“That’s where I’m headed,” I say nonchalantly. “It’s been a long day.”
“Ja. That’s just what I was telling Rachel,” he says with a perplexed expression. Is he embarrassed that I caught them together like this? If so, why? Does he have something to be embarrassed about?
“Well, good night,” I tell the
m both as I head for the stairs.
“Good night,” Rachel says cheerfully.
“Good night,” Zach mutters.
“I know what you need,” Rachel quietly tells him as I go up the stairs. “I completely forgot to serve it to you after your dinner, but I made the most delicious dessert.”
“Dessert?” he says with interest.
I pause at the top of the stairs to listen a bit more.
“Ja. Double Dutch chocolate cake with sour cream frosting. I know how much you love it. Why don’t you come have a nice big slice before we go to bed?”
Rolling my eyes and suppressing the urge to gag, I hurry down the hallway toward the bathroom. For a sweet, innocent-looking Amish girl, that Rachel Yoder sure seems to know what she’s doing. As I scrub my dirt-encrusted face, I wonder if they teach a special class for young Amish women. Snagging a Husband 101—everything you need to know to get your man. Because, seriously, this girl is working it. She intends to snag Zach good—hook, line, and sinker. At the rate she’s going, and despite Zach’s general indecision about committing to his Amish roots, I don’t think it’ll be long before the two of them are walking down the aisle together, or jumping over the broom, or whatever it is couples do in these parts to tie the knot. I do know this—I can’t get out of here soon enough!
14
I’m surprised to see a slit of light beneath the door to the girls’ bedroom. Although it’s probably not even 9:00, I expected they’d all be asleep by now. I tap gently on the door, then let myself in.
“There you are,” Katy tells me. “We were getting worried.”
“Worried?” This reminds me of my earlier conversation with Lizzie, although I doubt that any images like that have passed through their minds. “I was just outside talking on the phone and looking at the stars.” I tug my sweatshirt over my head. I’m so sick of wearing these same less-than-clean clothes. I can’t wait to get home and have a real bath and shampoo my hair, which is really feeling gross, and then put on some fresh clothes. Clothes that make me feel feminine—like a girl again. I’m sick and tired of playing the tomboy farmhand.
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