Andy rubbed his aching eyes and kept reading. Becoming Amish went much deeper than wearing home-sewn clothing and giving up modern conveniences, of course. It required learning the Pennsylvania Dutch dialect and attending Plain church services to eventually be baptized into the faith. And it wasn’t enough for an outsider to aspire to the Amish lifestyle and faith: once you were walking the walk and talking the talk, the Amish community voted on whether to accept you as one of them. In recent years, many English had expressed interest in the simpler Amish life but couldn’t get past the nitty-gritty of following the Ordnung’s rules . . . couldn’t give up the competitive, capitalist mindset they had been raised with and embrace living fully in the faith that Jesus had taught. So while they remained friends with the Plain community, they weren’t accepted as true members of it.
Why do Amish practice shunning?
Andy clicked on this question and held his breath as he read some of the reasons Amish folks might be ostracized by family and friends as punishment for wrongdoing. Sin, a glossed-over concept in many present-day churches, had to be followed by sincere public confession and repentance before the erring member was restored to good standing in the Old Order faith. If a member avoided the consequences of his or her wrongdoing and didn’t comply with the rules of the ban, as prescribed by the bishop, he or she could be excommunicated . . . cast out of the membership and considered ineligible for the salvation Jesus promised his followers.
Andy let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. This was serious stuff. No-frills Christianity, without praise bands or pretty pictures of a God who welcomed all of His children home. It occurred to him then that although Rhoda had insisted on paying him to drive her home last night, to comply with her beliefs, money had been the last thing on their minds after they had kissed. If Rhoda were shunned, would Miriam really seat her daughter at a separate table for meals? If no one from the community could do business with Rhoda or accept anything from her, that meant she couldn’t serve meals at the café, which would cause a quandary for the whole Lantz family.
Andy’s stomach churned. Their kisses had been so simple, so brief, yet his moment of unconsidered affection had thrust Rhoda into a situation with serious consequences if anyone found out about it . . . or if guilt compelled her to confess. He had a sudden image of her sweet face, reddened and wet with tears, as she admitted her sin to Miriam, for Rhoda impressed him as a young woman of intense sincerity and the desire to do the right thing.
Was she in hot water today? At odds with her mother, and possibly everyone else at the café, because she’d broken a basic rule the moment she’d gotten into his car? He and Rhoda had used icy roads and the late hour to justify her ride home, but Andy sensed that if her church leaders got wind of her forbidden activities, those justifications would hold little water with them.
Andy had the sudden urge to call her, to see if she was all right. Yet that might tip the scales even farther against her—especially if her mother or sister answered the phone and thought he was too interested in Rhoda. He was damned if he did call, and damned if he didn’t.
And if he showed up at the café to check on her, he might compound her problem even more. Never mind that he didn’t want to wake his mom to say he was leaving. His mother had been so pleased this morning when he’d peeked into her room to find her wearing a new dress covered with bright red poppies. Andy didn’t want to ruin her happiness. She was excited about Rhoda sewing her new aprons tomorrow, but maybe that wasn’t going to happen.
Maybe Rhoda was already forbidden to come here again.
Andy clicked out of Google and stood up. His imagination might be taking him for a ride, for Rhoda was probably as resourceful as her mother. Maybe none of the dire consequences he’d envisioned had happened, and she was waiting tables and smiling at folks in the café, as usual. And yet, if there was a chance she couldn’t work for him any longer, he needed to know that. He wanted to prepare his mom and the kids for her absence . . . which meant he’d have to have an explanation ready for why Rhoda wouldn’t be coming over anymore. Something other than admitting he’d kissed her.
How would he face his family’s disappointment? Brett, Taylor, and his mom were every bit as wrapped up in Rhoda’s charm and caring, efficient ways as he was.
Andy glanced at the clock. If he slipped quietly out to the car for a quick run to Willow Ridge, he could be back before the kids got home from school—before his mom awoke—
The ringing of the phone made him jump. “Yeah, hello?” he said as he raised the receiver of the phone in the living room.
“Andy?” There was a pause. “Andy, it’s—”
“Rhoda,” he breathed. How had she known to call him at this very moment? Had she felt his anxiety all the way from Willow Ridge? “Are you all right? I—I’ve just realized, after reading on the computer, how much trouble I might’ve gotten you into and I’m so terribly sorry if—”
“Jah, there is trouble.” She cleared her throat, sounding resolute. “Preacher Tom has insisted I have to quit workin’ for ya—”
Andy closed his eyes against a welling-up of regret. This was his fault, and Rhoda was suffering the consequences. If her preacher already knew what had flared between them last night . . .
“—but I’m gonna come tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got a gift for the kids, and . . . it’ll give ya more time to find somebody else to be with them and your mamm. I’m sorry it’s such short notice.”
“No, I’m sorry,” he rasped. His mind raced over what Rhoda was saying . . . and not saying. “How did your preacher know about us?”
Rhoda let out a rueful laugh. “Well, Mamma sent me to his house straightaway this morning to confess, after she saw the look on my face when I came in last night . . . and after a couple folks in a sleigh saw us parked alongside the road, too.”
Andy swore under his breath. In a town the size of Willow Ridge, this juicy tidbit would spread faster than Miriam’s apple butter had covered his toaster waffle this morning.
“So I guess I’m doin’ the right thing by quittin’,” she continued with a shuddery sigh, “but that doesn’t mean I feel any too gut about it.”
“Rhoda, I never intended for you to be in trouble with your mom or the preacher. I had no idea anyone saw us—”
“Me neither. But that full moon on the new-fallen snow made it the perfect night for sleigh ridin’,” she replied wistfully.
What an image filled his mind, of a horse-drawn sleigh crossing open moonlit fields . . . Rhoda bundled up beside him in the seat, smiling up at him. But that sweet idea was never to be, so he might as well get it out of his head.
“Too bad it was a couple of my chatterbox friends thinkin’ we might be havin’ car trouble,” Rhoda continued. Then she cleared her throat. “Well, I gotta get back to waitin’ tables. Just wanted ya to know what’s goin’ on, Andy. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
As he hung up, Andy dropped onto the couch and fell back, scowling. While there was no damage control strong enough to prevent the consequences of their being seen in his car, or to relieve Rhoda of whatever penance her church required, his mind was whirling in such a high gear that studying for his exams was impossible. The real questions for him now didn’t involve medicine or hospital procedure. What would he say to his son, his daughter, and his mother about Rhoda leaving them? What could he do to set things right for Rhoda—and with her family and the leaders of her church?
How would he concentrate on his exams, which began tomorrow, when his mind was filled with the cadence of her accented voice . . . her gentle humor . . . her open, trusting smile?
It was too soon to have such strong feelings for Rhoda Lantz. But that hadn’t stopped him from kissing her, and it wouldn’t keep him from missing her.
That evening as she and Mamma finished the dishes, Rhoda again felt the tightening of her insides: their crochet club met this evening over at the Knepp place. Hiram wasn’t one for hanging around during their weekly he
n parties, but if he’d talked with Preacher Tom or had heard the rumors from his daughters, he would delight in pouncing on her about the kiss she’d shared in Andy’s car.
“You’re quiet tonight,” her mother remarked. “Did your talk with Preacher Tom not go well?”
“Went fine.” Rhoda tied on her black bonnet, steeling herself for more of Mamma’s questions—and then for Rachel’s. Never in her life had Rhoda kept anything from her twin . . . but then, never had she done anything that defied the ways of their faith, either. “Not lookin’ forward to bein’ at the bishop’s tonight. Tom assured me my confession would remain between him and me, since I went over and talked to him immediately, but . . .”
“Jah, Hiram’s just itchin’ to find a reason why ya shouldn’t work in an English home,” her mother replied. “But there’s no controllin’ how this story will play out. That’s why it’s best to avoid gettin’ into trouble in the first place. Talkin’ to folks is easier when ya don’t have to watch every word ya say.”
Mamma’s tight tone was one more reminder of how guilt affected relationships. Through the window they saw a carriage coming from the main house, so they went downstairs. As they went outside and clambered into the backseat, Rachel smiled at them over her shoulder. “Micah’s brothers are meetin’ him at your new house tonight, Mamma,” she remarked. “He says while we gals are gossipin’, the three of them will set your kitchen cabinets in place, ready to install tomorrow.”
“Mighty nice of him to be workin’ such long hours,” Mamma replied.
Rhoda glanced at the new structure when her sister steered the horse past it, noting how their mother didn’t sound nearly as happy about such news as she ordinarily would have. Because I’ve caused her such worry . . . put a damper on her happiness by fallin’ for a man I can’t have . . .
“So how’s it goin’ over at the Leitners’?” Rachel asked. “Are those kids behavin’ themselves?”
Rhoda nipped her lip. It would be so much easier to leave Taylor and Brett if they were ornery or lazy—just as it would be easier to answer her twin if she and Andy had behaved as well as his children had. “The kids are doin’ fine,” she hedged. “But with their dat workin’ late shifts at the hospital, it’s not gut to be callin’ my ride home at all hours of the night. Not like I can park a horse and buggy in their yard and drive myself home, either. So tomorrow’s my last day.”
Rachel swiveled in the front seat. “Oh my. You’ve been so happy with that job, too, Sister. Smilin’ brighter than I’ve seen ya for a long time.”
Mamma found Rhoda’s hand and squeezed it beneath the layers of their heavy coats, but it was small comfort. “That’s the way of it in the nursin’ profession,” Rhoda replied with a halfhearted shrug. “Probably best to find out now, before . . . before we all get real attached to each other.”
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either. While she should have been able to share last night’s happenings with her twin, Rhoda didn’t feel like opening that can of worms when they were only minutes from the bishop’s house. If things worked out right—if Millie and Ira and Tom kept quiet—maybe this whole episode would vanish into thin air like the vapor of the horse’s breath on this frosty night. After all, their sister Rebecca’s existence had remained a secret for eighteen years—and wonderful love had come from her reappearance last summer. God had picked just the right time to reveal her presence to them. So maybe years from now Rhoda could reflect on how kissing Andy had been a great lesson in her life. A positive turning point.
They had barely removed their coats in the Knepps’ kitchen, however, before Annie Mae’s gaze told Rhoda the bishop’s daughter knew. And she wanted to hear a whole lot more. Nellie Knepp and Nazareth Hooley poured steaming tea into their cups before the seven of them headed toward the front room with their bags of bright-colored yarn.
“So if we’re startin’ a new afghan tonight, who shall we give it to?” Nellie asked as they all settled into chairs and sofas. “Ben got the first one—”
“And he’s usin’ it on his bed in the mill apartment, too,” Mamma remarked as she pulled a half-used skein of magenta yarn from her bag.
“Hiram’s got our second afghan folded over the rockin’ chair in his office,” Jerusalem chimed in. Her fingers flew around the center clusters of a new granny square. “Saw him with it wrapped around his shoulders yesterday, when I wasn’t supposed to know he was nappin’.”
As they all laughed, Rhoda caught Annie Mae looking purposefully at her and then toward the kitchen door.
“Am I the only one who noticed a drafty spot in Preacher Tom’s front room when we had services there?” Nazareth took a long sip of her tea. “Seems to me any fella on his own would enjoy something cuddly to curl up in. And he does so much for us, being our preacher.” Her girlish smile gave away her feelings for Tom—but Rhoda was more aware of their hostess holding her gaze.
“Silly me, I forgot about that tray of cookies Nellie and Jerusalem made,” Annie Mae said as she rose from her chair. “Believe me, there’d be none of them left if we hadn’t hidden them away from the twins.”
“And where are the kids tonight?” Rachel asked as she started a row of deep green around the fuchsia center she’d crocheted.
“Dat took the four of them out in the sleigh,” Nellie said with a big grin. “I told him to go clear on over to Morning Star and all that fresh night air would surely put the little ones to sleep before they got back!”
As more laughter filled the front room, Rhoda got up to help Annie Mae. She and the bishop’s eldest daughter had become better friends of late, so it might be best to humor her now . . . and find out how much she knew about last night. When Rhoda entered the kitchen, Annie Mae was beckoning her into the pantry. As the door swung shut behind them, Rhoda wasn’t so sure this was a good idea.
“So is it true, what Millie told me?” Annie Mae whispered. “Did ya really kiss that English fella in his car? Was he any gut at it?”
Rhoda’s cheeks burned in the darkness. “Ya can’t be lettin’ on to folks about—”
“Dat says he’s divorced—”
The bottom dropped from Rhoda’s stomach. “And why’d ya go tellin’ your dat about—just because Millie thought we were kissin’ doesn’t make it true, ya know!”
Annie Mae’s hands found her shoulders in the darkness. She laughed softly. “Lord a-mercy, no, I wouldn’t tell my dat, ya silly goose,” she replied. “I’m just amazed that you would be doin’ such things, when it’s me everybody’s been shakin’ their heads over, for runnin’ with Yonnie Stoltzfus and now datin’ a fella Luke’s age.”
“Jah, but you’re still in your rumspringa—”
The pantry door swung open and bumped Rhoda’s shoulder, which made her and Annie Mae jump toward the back shelves. But there was no escaping the stalwart figure silhouetted in the doorway: Jerusalem Hooley gazed at them pointedly. “Thought maybe ya hid those cookies so well ya couldn’t find them,” she remarked dryly. Then she let the door swing shut again.
Rhoda’s heart pounded painfully. How long had Jerusalem been listening outside the pantry? There would be no escaping judgment if she’d overheard. The former schoolteacher had been the one to insist Bishop Knepp confess and serve out his shunning for hiding a car in the barn. When Annie Mae pulled the string of the battery light on the pantry wall, to find the large platter of cookies she’d hidden in a blue enamel roaster, Rhoda saw the dread sketched around her eyes.
“I promise ya, I won’t breathe a word,” the bishop’s daughter murmured.
Ya might not have to, Rhoda thought desperately. But she didn’t have the heart to say that to Annie Mae.
Chapter Fourteen
Andy left the theater-style lecture hall Thursday afternoon feeling totally drained. He had no idea how he had performed on his written phlebotomy exam, but going home sounded a lot more fulfilling than locating good veins or drawing blood. When he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, howe
ver, a text message awaited him.
“Phooey,” he muttered as he reread the words from Dr. LaFarge, his hospital supervisor. He’d so hoped to spend Rhoda’s final afternoon in his employ immersed in whatever magic their Amish caretaker might be working, but once again duty called. On his way to his car, he phoned home.
“Hello?” Brett answered breathlessly.
“Hey, buddy, what’s going on?”
“Dad! We’re decoratin’ Christmas cookies we made with Rhoda—”
Oh, but Andy could taste a sugar cookie . . . lots of creamy frosting and sprinkles that crunched slightly between his teeth. Rhoda probably baked them soft and chewy, the way he liked them.
“—and when you get home, she says she’s got a present for us! So you’ve gotta get here,” his son gushed.
Andy closed his eyes. “Yeah, well—eat a star cookie for me, and put Rhoda on, will you?” he replied. “I’ll see you as soon as I can.”
Brett sighed. He’d heard it before, about how the hospital had called his father to work an unexpected shift. “Sure, Dad. Just a minute.”
During the pause, Andy swore he could smell cookies baking . . . heard Taylor and his mother laughing in the background . . .
“Jah? Andy? How’d your big test go?” Rhoda asked.
Her voice—her interest in his activities—made him smile in spite of the reason he’d called. “I’m so brain-dead I’m not sure,” he replied with a rueful chuckle. “And I’ve just gotten called in to cover a shift in the oncology ward.”
“Ah. What’s that?”
“Um, cancer care. Not a happy job, but necessary. So, as much as I’d hoped to spend the afternoon with you and the kids,” he continued, “it might be late again. I’m really sorry, Rhoda.”
“Well, ya gotta do what ya gotta do. I’ll keep ya a bowl of our chili for when ya get home.”
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