Trading Secrets

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Trading Secrets Page 14

by Melody Carlson


  “Is Zach still down there with her?” Katy quietly asks me.

  I shrug. “He was down there when I came up. I think they were having a late-night snack together.”

  “I’m sure Rachel would like to do more than have a late-night snack,” Sarah says in a way that implies she knows much more about romance than her thirteen years would suggest.

  “Sarah.” Katy shakes a maternal finger at her.

  “It’s true. Rachel is here to trap our brother and you know it.”

  I can’t help but snicker at Sarah’s observations, but I restrain the urge to reveal how heartily I agree with her.

  “See.” Sarah smirks in triumph as she ties off her long braid and flips it over her shoulder. “Even Micah knows I’m right about Rachel, Katy. Just admit it.”

  “I’m not stupid,” Katy tells her. “I know why Rachel is here.”

  “It’s not because of Mamm’s foot.” Sarah purses her lips. “I wonder if Mamm really has a hurt foot.”

  “Oh, Sarah,” Katy scolds.

  “Anyway, Rachel did not need to spend the night here tonight,” Sarah declares. “She just wanted to.”

  “What do you mean?” I decide to play dumb as I hang my jeans on a peg near my bed. I’m curious to hear what Zach’s sisters think of the girl who might very well be their future sister-in-law.

  “Rachel’s house is not that far away,” Katy explains. “Zach could’ve easily taken her home.”

  “But that would take only a few minutes,” Sarah adds.

  “Not the whole night.” Katy reaches for a hairbrush.

  “Rachel just wants to be with Zach.” Sarah’s tone turns as sarcastic as a thirteen-year-old English girl. “She probably wants to do some flirting.”

  “Really?” I frown at Sarah.

  “Oh, Sarah, stop gossiping,” Katy says quietly.

  “It’s not gossip when it’s a fact,” Sarah declares. “Rachel is out to get Zach, and she’s probably trying to get him to kiss her right now.”

  “That’s enough.” Katy puts a forefinger to her lips, glancing over to Ruth, who may or may not be sleeping on the other side of the room.

  I feel seriously dismayed by the idea of Rachel trying to get Zach to kiss her right now, but I try not to show it. What business is it of mine anyway? Still, I’m curious. “Do you really think Rachel would do that?” I whisper this more to Katy than to Sarah.

  “She would,” Sarah persists.

  “Really?” I frown at the two sisters. Amish girls look so sweet and innocent and old-fashioned, it’s hard to imagine one of them, even Rachel, making a bold move like this. I’ve never even kissed a guy myself. And I’m English!

  “Ja.” Katy just shakes her head. “Didn’t you see how Rachel acts around him? She’s already sixteen. She wants to be married soon.”

  “That’s true,” Sarah confirms. “And Rachel has been after Zach for a long, long time.”

  “Rachel is a very pretty girl,” I say with nonchalance as I pull the borrowed nightgown over my head. This will be my last night to wear this soft flannel gown. I think I might miss it. “She’s a good cook and a hard worker. Wouldn’t Zach be lucky to have her for his wife?”

  “You sound just like Mamm,” Sarah says with disappointment.

  “Nothing would make Mamm happier than if Rachel and Zach made a match,” Katy admits. “And not just because she’s a good cook.”

  “It’s because Rachel is the youngest sister in her family,” Sarah tells me.

  “What difference does that make?” I ask as I tug off my grimy socks.

  “They only have girls in their family,” Katy explains. “And Rachel’s daed is getting old. He has a good farm. Whoever Rachel marries will inherit the farm with her.”

  “Rachel wants Zach,” Sarah proclaims. “And Rachel usually gets what Rachel wants.”

  “Because she’s so good at everything?” I ask. “I mean cooking and sewing and all that?”

  “If you ask me, Rachel is too good,” Sarah says quietly.

  “Too good?” Despite agreeing with her about this phenomenon on many levels, I want to ask how any Amish person can really be “too good.” Isn’t that what they’re all striving for, why they work so hard, why they take their religion so very seriously—to be very, very good? “How can anyone be too good?” I ask.

  Sarah gets a thoughtful expression. “You see . . . Rachel likes to tell others about how good she is. How she is such a good cook, so good at sewing, so good at housekeeping. She brags about how she’ll make the perfect wife and have the perfect children and live in a perfect house with the perfect husband. And that is not good.”

  “That’s enough.” Katy gives Sarah a warning look.

  “Some might even think that Rachel is proud,” Sarah says solemnly.

  I know enough about the Amish to know that is not good.

  “And they would say we are gossips for talking about her like this,” Katy tells her sister. “Enough already. It’s time for bed.”

  “Ja . . . you’re right.” Sarah sighs sadly. “But I love my big brother. I don’t want Rachel to catch Zach in her perfect trap.”

  “How would she do that?” I ask. “I mean, Zach is smart. How could she possibly trap him into anything?”

  Now both girls start to giggle.

  “Don’t you know?” Sarah teases, and tipping her head to one side, she puckers her lips. “They catch them by kissing, right?”

  I can’t help but laugh at her silly expression. “Yeah, sure. I guess so.”

  “You see, we Amish girls aren’t any different from you English girls,” she says a bit smugly.

  “Do you think that’s what they’re doing now?” I ask with unveiled curiosity. “Do you think Zach and Rachel are down there kissing?”

  Katy makes a knowing nod as she reaches for the battery powered lamp. “Sure. It’s how you get a boy interested in marriage. Everyone knows that.”

  Right, I think as I slide between the coarse sheets. Everyone knows that. As Katy turns out the light, I close my eyes, and I try not to imagine the two of them down there kissing. But good grief—it’s like trying not to think about pink elephants!

  As I’m getting dressed the next morning, once again before the sun has come up, I am mindful of one thing—this is my last day in the Miller home. At least I hope it is. Thinking about how many times I’ve returned after I thought I was gone does worry me a bit. I totally trust my dad, though. I know he will come and get me out of here. While braiding my hair, I envision my sweet little bathroom at home—a bathroom for one! I imagine how good it will feel to take a lovely bubble bath and have a real shampoo. I don’t usually think of myself as a “girly-girl.” I leave that to Lizzie. But after a few days of living in Amishland, I’m well aware of how much I love my little luxuries.

  As I wait in line behind Ruth to use the bathroom, I remember how I recently fantasized about becoming full-time Amish and how I imagined myself as Zach’s wife. The thought of this almost makes me laugh. Seriously, what was I thinking? Of course, thinking of Zach just fills me with heaviness. I can’t even put my finger on why this makes me sad. It’s partly because I honestly felt Zach was looking for something more—something beyond the constrictions of the Amish faith, perhaps even more education. But now I wonder if he’s forgotten all about that. If so, is it because of Rachel? Sure, she might make some Amish man a “perfect” wife. But for Zach? I don’t think so.

  As Sarah comes out and Ruth takes her turn in the bathroom, I feel guilty for my negative thoughts. I mean, I barely know Rachel. Who am I to judge her? The truth is, my reservations about this girl are all linked to my own petty jealousies. Like I think I have some kind of special connection to Zach, like I have a right to an opinion about how he lives his life. Really?

  I’m just emerging from my turn in the bathroom when I hear Rachel calling from downstairs that it’s time for breakfast. Determined to mind my manners, I hurry down and take my place at the table, bowing my
head for the silent prayer. Once again, Rachel plays “Mamm” by serving everyone breakfast. As I eat my oatmeal, I keep a furtive eye on Zach, watching as he interacts with Rachel. He is polite, but he seems a bit cool and reserved too, although that might just be because he’s uncomfortable or embarrassed. I glance around the table, wondering if everyone here is jumping to the same conclusions about him and Rachel. That’s when I notice that Zach’s mother appears happier than usual. In fact, she almost looks downright smug.

  I hurry to shovel down my breakfast. As I’m still chewing the last bite of blueberry muffin, I excuse myself. “I promised to call my dad,” I say as I hurry out the back door. Even though it’s a bit early, as soon as I’m outside, I hit the speed dial. Dad answers in a sleepy, gruff voice.

  “Sorry to wake you,” I tell him. “But you know how it is in Amish country. Early to bed and all that jazz.”

  He chuckles. “You’ve had an interesting spring break, Micah.”

  “You can say that again—but don’t.”

  “Good news. Mike at Davis Field has offered me the use of his car to pick you kids up. Not only that, but he said if Zach can hang around until 5:00, he’ll give him a ride home too. Sounds like he lives nearby anyway.”

  “That’s great, Dad. I’m sure Zach will be relieved.”

  “Will there be any problem with the car, though? I wouldn’t want his family to be offended by seeing their son getting into a car. I realize Zach is eighteen, so I’m not really worried about getting in trouble for kidnapping.” He laughs. “But I don’t want to cause any trouble for him just the same.”

  I consider this. “I’m not sure how his parents would feel about it. But what if we walk out to meet you on the road? Just in case.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “How about if we start walking that way at 3:00?” I suggest.

  “Perfect.”

  I’m just hanging up when I spot Katy going into the woodshed where Rosie and the kittens are staying. It looks like she’s going to feed them. I hurry over to join her, telling her the good news about finding a home for another kitten.

  “That’s great,” she tells me as she fills their low dish with dry food that’s been soaked in milk. “I won’t have to find any homes now. We’ll keep the male kitten to help Lucky in the barn.”

  “Do you have a box or something that I can use to transport them in?”

  She holds a finger in the air. “I have the perfect thing.” She leads me back outside and around the back of the shed to an enclosed storage area, then removes a pet carrier. “I got this at a garage sale for just five dollars,” she explains. “The woman told me she paid much more for it.”

  “That’d be great,” I admit. “But let me pay you for it.”

  She waves her hand. “No, you can have it.”

  “Why did you get it?” I ask. “Did you need it to carry Rosie?”

  “I thought I did. I was going to take her to the vet to get fixed so she doesn’t have more kittens. But the mobile vet is coming here in a couple weeks.”

  “A mobile vet?”

  “Ja. He goes around to the farms. He will spay or neuter pets for much less than at a regular clinic. I made an appointment for Rosie.”

  “Then let me pay you for this,” I insist. “You can put it toward Rosie’s operation.”

  She protests, but I force her to take a twenty. “It’s for Rosie.”

  Rachel is calling out to the children now, announcing that it’s time to go to school.

  “Thank you.” Katy hugs me. “I know you’ll be gone before I get back, Micah. I will miss you.”

  “Thank you for letting me stay in your room,” I say. “And for being my friend.”

  She beams at me. “You are my first English friend.”

  Rachel is calling again, sounding as if she really believes she’s Mamm. “You better go,” I say as we walk back into view of the house.

  Katy tells me good-bye, then hurries over to get into the buggy, which is all ready to go. I watch as Rachel goes over to where Zach is seated in the driver’s seat. She climbs up to say something to him, getting very close as if she’s whispering in his ear. Then, laughing, she hops down and waves goodbye to all of them—as if she is the mother of this tribe. I’m sure Zach’s mother couldn’t be more pleased.

  Seeing that Zach’s dad is already out in the field, I jog over to join him. I’m not sure if it’s because this is my last day here, or because he’s figured out that I’m actually a fairly hard worker, or because we expect to get this field wrapped up by this afternoon, but he seems genuinely happy to see me. He grunts out curt commands, and because I know what he wants and expects, I go right to work.

  Even though I’m really eager to go home, I can’t help but appreciate being out here like this. The air is so fresh, the sky is so pretty, the birds are singing, green things are growing . . . what’s not to like? Admittedly, a part of me is still attracted to an agricultural way of life. Perhaps an agricultural life with a few “modern” comforts. Although I can imagine that if you grew up in this Amish community and it was all you knew, it would be okay. Especially if you were partnered with someone you truly loved. I’m not sure that I’d want to have quite so many children, though. And when I consider how hard Zach’s mom works and how exhausted she seems at times—at least she did before Rachel the Amish Superwoman showed up, anyway—I feel quite certain this lifestyle is not for wimps.

  15

  When Zach gets back from delivering his siblings to school, I join him and we go back to seeding again. But when it’s time to break for lunch, Zach informs his dad that we will continue to work. “I asked Rachel to send Samuel out with our lunch,” Zach explains. “We’ll take a quick break, then get back to work. I want to finish this field before it’s time for Micah to go home.”

  Zach’s dad looks up at the sky, which is starting to fill with clouds. “Ja, that is a good plan. I think we will have rain tonight. I’d like to have the corn seeded in by then.”

  “Ja, me too,” Zach tells him.

  Zach and I continue working quietly together, going up and down the field. By now I’m pretty good at managing the horse, and I know the proper speed to go and how to make myself useful when it’s time to reload the seeder. I’ve even learned how to make adjustments to the harness and yoke when necessary. I feel like I’ve become an old pro in just a few days. However, I realize that if I had to do all this on my own, it would quickly turn into a big fat mess. Zach’s dad has already returned from his midday meal and is getting the team ready to work the field adjacent from ours when I realize how hungry I am, probably because I rushed through breakfast. I’m about to ask Zach if it’s time to take a break when I see Rachel traipsing toward us with a basket in her arms.

  “Good afternoon,” she calls out cheerfully. “Your dinner has arrived.”

  I stop the horse, and since Zach is occupied with the seeder, I hurry over to meet Rachel at the fence. “Thanks,” I say, reaching for the basket.

  She pulls it away from me in a possessive way. “I can handle this,” she quietly informs me with her eyes locked on Zach. She is obviously on a mission.

  “Okay.” I hold up my hands and step away. Whatever.

  “Come on, Zach,” she calls out playfully. “Time to take a dinner break. I’ve got your favorite.”

  “My favorite what?” He frowns as he slowly walks over.

  “Fried chicken!” she exclaims. “I made it just for you.”

  “Mmm.” He looks at her with interest as he brushes off his hands on the sides of his trousers. “Sounds good. I’m hungry too.”

  “Come on over here,” she instructs, heading for a tree on the fence line where she tosses out a well worn quilt and kneels down with the basket. “We’re going to have a spring picnic.”

  I realize I’m not exactly unwelcome here, but I know that if Rachel could have her way, I would be uninvited. Just the same, I’m starving and not going to be easily dismissed. I follow Zac
h’s lead and climb over the fence. Dusting off my grimy hands on the back of my jeans, I stand looking over Rachel as she arranges her “spring picnic.” I have to admit it looks delicious.

  The three of us are soon seated around the quilt as Rachel distributes the feast, but as I’m munching on my chicken drumstick, I can’t help but notice how close she’s sitting next to Zach. With her full periwinkle skirt gracefully arrayed around her, I can see no part of the quilt between them. The way she leans in to him as she talks, smiling into his face as if they have a well-established and intimate relationship, makes me uncomfortable. I’m not sure if it’s because I expect the Amish to be more reserved or because I’m feeling jealous again. But it’s kind of like being the third person on a romantic date.

  Zach, who is thoroughly enjoying our picnic, tells Rachel about a blackbird that was diving down at us earlier, probably a mama bird protecting a nest, and Rachel laughs as if that’s the wittiest thing she’s ever heard, even reaching over to slap his knee in a very familiar way. Obviously the girl is in love with him. But does he return her feelings? I’m just not sure. Really, it’s none of my business. I am only hours away from being outta here—for good. Keeping this in mind, I focus on the food, biding my time.

  “I have a serious question for you, Zach.” Rachel leans over, putting her hand on his shoulder in a confidential way. “Now that you know your English pen pal is a girl, do you plan to keep on writing?”

  Zach’s brow creases. “I . . . uh, I don’t know.”

  Rachel looks shocked by this. To be honest, I am too. “Oh, Zach. You know you cannot keep writing to Micah. Not with everyone knowing she’s a girl now. It was bad enough that you wrote to an English boy. But an English girl?” She shakes her head in a disapproving way that reminds me of his mother. “That would be against the Ordnung.”

  Zach tosses me an uncomfortable glance but says nothing.

  “It’s okay,” I assure him. “I totally understand if you can’t write to me anymore.” I shrug as if it’s no big deal—although I feel a deep pang of hurt inside of me. “I knew it would have to come to an end. I get it.”

 

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