Dad smiles as he taxis down the runway. I can tell he genuinely likes Zach. For some reason that makes me really happy, but I’m feeling concerned too. What on earth is Zach going to do in Cleveland? I can’t even begin to imagine how lost he’s going to feel there. Besides that, I know he doesn’t have any money. Where will he stay? How will he eat? And with only the clothes on his back? Well, the whole thing sounds crazy.
Before long, Dad comes to a stop in front of the business office in the hangar, and Zach and I help him carry some of the boxes inside. While Zach and I are stacking them in the storage room, Dad is checking his voice mail messages.
“Micah,” he says when we come out. “I’ve still got stuff to take care of here, and I think it’s going to take a couple more hours. I drove the car today since I knew I was picking you up. How about if you drive yourself and Zach and the kittens home? You mind?”
“Not at all.” I toss Zach a mischievous grin. “As long as you don’t mind.”
Zach makes what seems a forced smile, and I wonder if he’s regretting his rash decision to come to Cleveland. Really, he should be regretting it. What is he going to do here anyway? “Uh, is there a—a washroom around here?” he asks nervously.
I point him in the right direction, but as soon as he’s gone, I confide my worries to my dad, explaining about how he spent all his money on a vet bill. “Do I just drop him off somewhere in Cleveland and leave him?”
“Just take him home,” Dad says as he hands me the car keys. “He can have the spare room tonight, and we’ll sort it all out tomorrow.” He reaches for his phone.
“Really?” I try not to act too stunned. My dad is allowing a boy to spend the night with us? For some reason this seems shocking.
Dad replaces the phone, and his brows arch with curiosity. “Or is that a problem?”
“A problem?” I act naïve.
“I figure I can trust a nice Amish boy like Zach with my only daughter, but I could be wrong.” Dad studies me carefully. “Are you and Zach romantically involved, Micah? Is there something I need to know?”
That makes me laugh. “No way, Dad. In fact”—I lower my voice—“I honestly thought he was about to ask Rachel to marry him.”
“Rachel?” Dad looks thoroughly confused now.
“Never mind,” I say as I hear Zach’s footsteps down the hall. “I’ll fill you in later.”
“Okay.” Dad reaches for the phone again. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
I pick up my backpack and Zach gets the cat carrier. “Want me to order takeout?” I ask Dad as I lead Zach toward the back door.
“Sure. Whatever you like.”
As we’re loading my stuff into the car, Zach looks puzzled.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I get behind the wheel. “Worried about my driving?”
“No. But how will your father get home if you have his car?”
“RTA,” I say as I start the engine.
“What?”
“Oh, that’s Cleveland’s transit system—you know, like a train. He usually takes it to work. Cheaper than gas.”
“Oh, ja, ja. That makes sense. One other question.”
“Just one?” I point to his seatbelt. “First you have to buckle up. It’s the law.”
“Oh, ja.” He fumbles to fasten it.
“Your other question?” I check my mirror and back out.
“What is takeout?”
I laugh. “Takeout is how a lot of the English eat a lot of the time.”
“It’s food?”
“It’s food that someone else cooks. You call on the phone and place an order, and some of the places even deliver it to you.”
“Oh, ja. We have that too.”
I turn to look at him as I wait for the light to change. “Huh?”
“If your mamm is sick or has just had a baby, sometimes a neighbor will bring food to your house. Not as much after your sisters are big enough to cook. But when I was little that happened a lot.”
“Ah.” I suppress the urge to laugh. “Amish takeout. I get it.”
As I drive on the expressway, I can tell that Zach is uneasy about the rush hour traffic. He’s alternately clutching the dashboard and armrest and pointing to vehicles that I’m sure he thinks are going to collide with us. To be perfectly honest, I’m a little uncomfortable myself. After spending a few days in calm and car-less Amishland, the Cleveland 5:00 commute feels pretty crazy busy to me. To distract both of us, I question Zach about his family.
“Won’t they be worried about you when you don’t come home tonight?”
“No.” He urgently points to a dump truck that’s cutting in front of me from the right.
“I find that hard to believe.” I slow down, then cautiously change lanes. “You just disappear without a word, and your family won’t wonder what happened to you? Really?”
“Ja, they probably would be worried, except that I left Daed a note. I put it in the barn, right next to Molly’s medicine.”
“Oh.” For a few minutes we drive in silence, and I focus on the traffic and getting us to the next exit and a less hectic highway.
“Where are you going to leave me?” Zach asks as I’m turning off the busy expressway. “In the city?”
“I’m taking you home with me,” I say nonchalantly, as if I’m in the habit of taking eighteen-year-old boys home with me all the time. Not.
“What?” Zach looks at me in disbelief.
“Dad’s orders,” I inform him.
“Your father is going to let me stay at your house?”
“At least for tonight,” I explain. “We’ll have to figure the rest of it out later.”
Zach lets out what sounds like a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”
“We’re not too far from home now.” I drum my fingers on the steering wheel as I wait at another set of lights.
“I think driving a car must be a lot harder than flying a plane,” Zach says as I’m finally turning onto the street for our condo. “From the air you can see where you’re going. Down here, it seems like you could get lost.”
“You probably would,” I admit. “Until you figured things out.”
“All those cars out there on that big road, all driving so close together, so fast.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe no one crashed into you when you were driving, Micah. Not that you weren’t doing it right. It just looked impossible to me.”
“I kind of felt like that too, the first time I drove on the expressway. I was pretty freaked.”
“Ja. I would rather fly a plane than drive a car. It’s a lot less crowded in the sky.” Zach seems a lot more relaxed as I slowly drive down our relatively quiet street.
“We live in a condo,” I explain as our development comes into sight. “That’s short for condominium. It’s like a house that’s attached to a bunch of other houses with nothing in between them and only a little bit of grass out front. Very low maintenance for the homeowners.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“It’s completely unlike your farm, as you’ll soon see. We used to live in a regular house with a real yard and all that. Before my mom died. Our suburb was about thirty minutes from the city. But it was hard on both of us . . . I mean, being in that house without Mom. It was like we didn’t know what to do with ourselves most of the time. And I ended up being home alone a lot. Then gas got expensive, and Dad found this condo closer to work, which really saves on his commute, plus it’s close to the transit.”
Zach looks slightly confused, and I realize I’m probably throwing too much information his way. Or perhaps he’s just overwhelmed by everything. Worst-case scenario, he’s already regretting his decision to defect.
I pull into our carport, turn off the engine, and smile at him. “Here we are. Home sweet home.”
He looks around with interest. “I always wondered what your home was like, Micah. Now I actually get to see it.”
I point down the street as I get my backpack.
“My friend Lizzie lives just a couple blocks from here.”
“Will I get to meet her?”
I laugh. “Well, if you don’t meet her, she probably won’t be speaking to me.” I point to the kitty carrier. “Besides, we’ll need to get her kitten to her.”
“Should we do that now?”
I look down the street, then back toward home. “We can do it later,” I say. “I need to crash in my own house first.”
“Crash in?” He frowns. “Are you locked out?”
I chuckle as I dig my key out of a backpack pocket. “No. Crashing in a place is more like landing.”
“Oh, ja.” He nods. “Like a crash landing.”
I laugh. “Yeah, kinda like that.”
I hurry up the walk to the front door, imagining how great it’s going to feel to have a nice long shower with no concern that someone else needs to use the bathroom. “Man, it’s good to be home!” I declare as I unlock the door, but we’re barely inside when I catch an unsettling glimpse of Zach’s worried face. I can tell he’s totally out of his comfort zone. Poor guy, I hope he’s not sorry he went AWOL. If he does regret his hasty decision, I hope he can undo it without alienating his entire family. As I set down my backpack, I’m hit with a completely new concern—I’m guessing they will all blame me for this.
17
I feel like a new woman when I finally emerge from my shower wearing a fresh set of clothes, which look much more feminine than anything I’ve worn for the past several days. I even took the time to put on some mascara and lip gloss, and my hair, which is still damp, is thoroughly conditioned and smelling good.
“Ahhh,” I say happily as I sink onto the couch across from where Zach is sitting with his nose in one of Dad’s aviation magazines.
“Feel better?” Zach sets it aside.
“Much.” I give him a good long look and see how out of place he looks in his homemade blue shirt, black suspenders, and baggy trousers. Plus he’s still got a fair amount of farm dust on him. However, I doubt that he’s too concerned about that right now.
“So, how are you feeling?” I gently ask. “Are you sorry you did this?”
He looks surprised. “No, not at all.”
“Oh.” I study his expression, trying to determine what’s going on. “But you seem uneasy,” I finally say. “Are you sure you don’t feel bad for leaving the way you did?”
“I guess I feel a little bad,” he confesses. “I don’t like hurting my family. But at the same time, I know it’s the only way to do it. Everyone I know who’s left has done it abruptly. Some go in the middle of the night.”
“Why? Are they worried someone will try to stop them?”
“Maybe some are worried their family would try to talk them out of it. Mostly I think they do it like that because it’s easier.”
“Do people ever go back?” I query.
“Sometimes they come back to visit after a year or so. But I think it’s usually a disappointment and it’s always awkward. They never stay long.”
That’s not really what I was asking, but I’m curious just the same. “Why are they disappointed?”
“I think they expect to be welcomed back.”
“And they’re not welcomed?”
He just shakes his head.
For some reason this surprises me. “But if your family hasn’t seen you . . . wouldn’t they be glad to have you there?”
“Maybe they’re glad to see you’re still alive. That means there’s still hope. But unless you’ve returned to repent and join the church and live according to their rules, it’s not a happy reunion.”
“What would happen if you went back right now?” I persist. “Or a few days from now? Would they welcome you back then?”
His brow creases. “Welcome me back? I don’t think that’s how they’d act. It’s more likely that they’d be annoyed and ashamed.”
“Ashamed because you left?”
He looks uncertain, but the answer is in his eyes.
“With an English girl?”
“That doesn’t help my situation.” He gives me a crooked smile.
“Will they blame me for you going?”
“No, no . . . they accept that we take responsibility for our own choices. That’s what rumspringa is all about. The freedom to make the big life decisions.”
“Have you made your decision?”
“I am making it.”
“Meaning you’re still thinking about everything?”
“Ja.”
“If you chose to go back and live like your family, then they would welcome you?”
“They would welcome me if I apologized and confessed my sin, and if I professed my faith.”
I would never say this to Zach, but to me it seems like a very conditional sort of love. But I realize I don’t fully understand their faith. Maybe they would call this “tough love.” Before I can say anything, I hear our landline phone ringing. The sound of it startles me—maybe because I haven’t heard anything like that for so long. “That’s our phone,” I lamely tell Zach, running to answer the noisy thing.
Of course, it’s Lizzie. “I saw your dad’s car,” she says eagerly, “so I knew you were home. You promised to call me, remember?”
“Sorry. We worked in the field all day, and the only thing I could think about was taking a shower.”
“Well, I texted you a few times, then just called your cell, but it went straight to voice mail. I figured it was dead, so I decided to try your landline. Did you bring my kitty?”
“Yes, I have your kitty.” I squat down to peer inside the kitty crate that’s still parked by the front door. Both of the kittens are awake and look eager to escape from captivity.
“Can I come get it?”
“Sure. Anytime you want.”
“I’ll be right over. And I’ll bring your kitty stuff.”
“Kitty stuff?”
“Remember, I promised to get you some supplies at Pets R Us?”
“Oh, yeah.” I open the door to the crate, and both kitties come tumbling out. Concerned about Dad’s beloved Persian carpet in the living room, I scoop them up, trying to contain them with one arm as I hold the phone with the other.
“Everything okay?” she asks with a concerned tone. “I mean, you sound a little scattered. Is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” I lower my voice. “But I guess I should tell you that Zach came home with me.”
I hold the phone away from my head as she lets out a shriek. “No way!”
“Uh-huh.” I carry the kittens into the kitchen, where there’s no carpet to be concerned about, then let them down.
“I’m on my way right now!”
I hang up the phone. Concerned that these two curious felines aren’t house-trained yet, I try to keep them in the kitchen area. “Lizzie is on her way over here,” I call out to Zach. “She can’t wait to meet you.”
He joins me in the kitchen, where we both watch the kittens exploring every nook and cranny. They are so adorable. I almost wish I could keep them both. I decide to utilize this moment to explain to him that Lizzie is African American. “That means her skin is dark,” I say.
“I know what African American is,” he tells me in a slightly exasperated tone. “Remember, I read books?”
I smile. “Well, I just didn’t want you to be too surprised. I never saw a person of color in Amishland.”
“Amishland?” He frowns.
“Sorry. It’s a phrase I picked up from Lizzie.”
Zach jumps at the sound of the doorbell. “Can you get the door?” I ask as I stoop down to gather up the kittens again.
By the time I reach the foyer, Lizzie has already set down a large bag and introduced herself. Clearly, she is more interested in Zach than her new pet.
“Hey,” I say as I join them. “Here’s your kitty.”
“Oh, what a darling.” She gathers the striped furry bundle into her arms. “You are so cute.”
“It’s a good thing y
ou came when you did,” I tell her as we go back into the kitchen area. “I was starting to get attached and considering keeping both of them.”
Lizzie looks appalled. “No way. This little sweetheart is mine. All mine.” She tips her head toward the plastic bag by the door. “I decided to trade you the cat goodies in there for my new kitty. No backing out.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I go over to see what’s in the bag.
“I want to,” she insists.
I remove a few things, including the food dish. “We should probably feed them,” I tell her as I return to the kitchen.
“You might want to get this set up too,” Zach says as he pulls out the plastic kitty box and a small bag of litter. “I’ll get it ready for you.”
While he’s fixing the kitty litter box, I show Lizzie how to soak the hard cat food kibble in milk. “Katy told me that they won’t be able to eat hard food for a couple more weeks. She said you let it soak for about twenty minutes for now. But over the next few days, you soak it less and less, and then you start soaking it in water. Eventually they’re able to eat it dry.”
While we play with the kittens, Lizzie questions Zach about a lot of things, including what he plans to do while he’s in Cleveland. “There’s a lot to see,” she says as she pets her new kitten. “There’s the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the Pro Football Hall of Fame and the Museum of Art, and oh yeah, there’s the ‘Holly’Wood Christmas Movieland where you can see stuff from movies like Elf and The Grinch. My little sister loves that place. And then—”
“I think Zach might enjoy seeing the lake and the Great Lakes Science Center and the USS Cod,” I insert.
“What’s the USS Cod?” he asks with interest.
I explain that it’s a fully intact World War II submarine, and Zach’s eyes light up. “That would be great.”
“And there’s the air museum,” I add. “Lots of cool aviation stuff there. And the Museum of Natural History and the zoo and—”
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