by Sarah Price
Slowly, she dropped her hands. “Really?”
“Really really,” he teased. “Now, redeem yourself and let’s win this cornhole competition!”
She took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder at the other people practicing their beanbag-tossing skills. The truth was that she hadn’t played cornhole in a long time. But throwing a beanbag was a lot different from hitting a volleyball as it sailed through the air. And Jonas was right. It wasn’t as if she could actually injure anyone with a beanbag.
“I used to be fairly good at this,” she mumbled, more to herself than to him.
“That’s the spirit.” He took hold of her arm and began to lead her toward the clearing once more. “Let’s get you warmed up. I see Ben Kauffman and his girl over there and”—he leaned closer to her so that only she could hear him—“I’d like nothing more than to beat him.”
And his girl.
She hoped Jonas wasn’t getting the wrong idea about her. He was, after all, still Jonas.
He must have sensed her apprehension. “What’s wrong?”
Standing beside him, Rachel looked around at the other people tossing beanbags at the cornhole board. They were, indeed, mostly couples. Surely everyone would think she and Jonas were an actual couple, too.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” she whispered. “People might think—”
He frowned and interrupted her. “Who cares what people think? Honestly, Rachel, if you live your life worried about such things, you might as well never do anything fun. Why! That’s my philosophy of life.”
She put her hand on her hip and gave him a scorching look. “Exactly!”
“And?” He raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re always in trouble!”
He gave a single laugh. “That shows what little you know about me. Now, stop lollygagging here and let’s get to practicing. Ben’s that fellow who beat me two years ago in arm-wrestling. Remember what my maem said?” He puffed out his chest and flexed his arm muscle. “It’s time for payback.”
Reluctantly, Rachel gave in. Maybe Jonas was right. Maybe she shouldn’t care if other people thought they were together as a couple. She knew the truth, and so did Jonas. Besides, it wasn’t as if people didn’t already talk about her and Ella Mae anyway.
Oh, she knew what some people whispered behind their backs. She’d overheard some of the comments about how they were so alike and unapproachable. Rachel hadn’t ever given it much thought. After all, they were alike and, because they were so tight with each other, probably did appear unapproachable. None of that had mattered before. It wasn’t as if there were any young men in their church district who had appealed to them. The truth was that neither of them had wanted anyone to approach them.
Throwing caution to the wind, Rachel took the three beanbags that Jonas offered her. She stood behind the white line of chalk in the grass and focused on the board. Sizing up the distance, she realized they were playing by the official cornhole rules, for the two boards were almost thirty feet away from each other. She tried to avoid looking at the other couple, standing next to the board as she took aim. It was intimidating having them stare at her from their side of the cornhole playing field. With a deep breath, she took her time aiming before she swung her arm and released the beanbag filled with corn. It sailed through the air and landed, with a thump, on the grass.
“See?” She turned to Jonas and gestured wildly toward the board. “I’m no good at this!”
He rolled his eyes. “That was your first try. Do it again.”
“This is a bad idea.”
“Don’t be a quitter.”
She glared at him. “Fine!”
Turning back toward the board, she took a deep breath and stared at the small round hole in the board. She swung her arm once, twice, and then, on the third swing, released the beanbag. This time, it landed on the board with a loud thud.
Jonas laughed. “See? You’d have gotten one point for that throw!”
For the next few minutes, they practiced, taking turns with the beanbags. To Rachel’s surprise, she not only made more winning shots than Jonas, but she even landed two beanbags into the hole. Her confidence bolstered, she felt ready for the competition.
Eight teams had signed up for the game. For the first round, each team was assigned a random number to play against another team. Rachel realized that this competition was one of elimination. There would be three rounds. Whoever won round three would be the champions.
Silently, she prayed that they’d at least win the first round. The last thing she wanted to do was to make a complete fool out of herself.
“You can do this,” Jonas whispered to her, his chin on her shoulder, when it was her turn to toss the beanbag for the first round.
“Shh!” She shoved him off her shoulder. “I’m concentrating.”
All she needed was to ensure her bags at least landed on top of the cornhole board. If they didn’t, the shots were considered fouls and she’d get no points. They only had to get to twenty-one points to win the round.
She felt as if a vise tightened around her chest. She hated pressure like this. But, rather than give up, she stared at the hole and swung her arm a few times before releasing the beanbag. It seemed to travel in slow motion as it sailed through the air, its arc curving toward the board. Finally, after what felt like minutes but was only a few seconds, it landed on the board.
Jonas cheered, as did some of the people in the crowd behind them.
“Well done! Now do it again!”
Rachel gave him a dirty look. “Don’t pressure me! This isn’t easy.”
“Okay, okay!” He held up his hands and turned away from her.
Irritated, she focused on tossing her second beanbag.
The crowd cheered when it, too, landed on the board.
On her third throw, she forgot about the crowds and concentrated only on the board. It was as if no one else stood around her. She heard nothing, felt nothing; the only thing she saw was that hole.
When the beanbag landed on the board and slid down, dropping into the hole, everyone applauded, and she thought she heard Jonas whoop from behind her.
They alternated turns. After she finished pitching the four beanbags, one of the players from the opposing team took her place on the field. Unlike Rachel, the young woman got only one beanbag onto the board; the rest landed in the grass.
Jonas took his turn and managed to get all four beanbags onto the board. His opponent scored twice but had two fouls.
It only took four more turns in that game for Jonas and Rachel to earn their twenty-one points.
“Wahoo!” Jonas gave her a big grin. “You did great!”
She flushed at the compliment.
“Now,” he said as he leaned over, lowering his voice, “we’re going against Ben. We have to win the next round.”
She clucked her tongue and pushed him away from her. “Jonas Esh! You’re going to stress me out, and I’ll miss every toss.”
He cringed. “No! You can’t miss.” He reached out and touched her shoulders. “You need to focus. Focus.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re terrible.”
When the next round began, Rachel tried to block out everything except that cornhole board. She forgot that the crowd was growing and ignored that Jonas was whispering “Focus” from behind her.
Three of her four tosses landed on the board.
“Well done,” he whispered into her ear.
She swatted at him as if he were a pesky bug. “Stop!”
But Ben and his partner were stronger opponents than the previous couple. By the end of the fourth round, they were tied at fifteen points.
“Six points,” Jonas said. “That’s all we need.”
“That’s all they need, too.”
He groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
Jonas went first, tossing his beanbags with great precision. Two went into the hole and the other two landed on the
board. Six points. They’d reached twenty-one. Rachel caught her breath. It was still possible for the other team to score higher than they, so she needed to widen the gap between them.
She didn’t think she could do it.
Still, she tried. Blocking out the surrounding noise, she stared at the hole and took her aim. As she started to toss the beanbag, in her mind she saw it sail through the air and land in the hole. She was barely surprised when it actually did as she’d imagined.
“Wahoo!” Jonas leapt into the air. “Two points, Rachel! Keep it up.”
She ignored him and set her sights on the second toss. It landed on the board. She noticed Jonas wasn’t quite as exuberant with that result. For her third throw, she visualized the beanbag landing in the hole once again. To her amazement, it did.
Jonas walked up behind her, leaning over her shoulder. “If you can get this one in the hole,” he murmured, “we’ve won. They’ll never get five in the cornhole. Never.”
She shooed him away.
Quietly, she stared at the hole, wishing with every ounce of determination in her body that she would make the toss and it would land in the hole. She took a deep breath and lined up her arm, pulling down and back before she flung it forward and released the beanbag.
For a moment, she felt as if it floated in slow motion, tumbling through the air and closing the distance between where she stood and the cornhole board. She heard nothing from the crowd and saw nothing but that beanbag.
When it made a swooshing noise and dropped from sight, she caught her breath. She’d done it! It had landed directly in the hole.
Jonas yelped and, to her surprise, embraced her in an excited hug. “You did it!” he shouted. “They’ll never beat that!”
Rachel didn’t want to jinx their luck. She, too, suspected that the other team wouldn’t be able to match their thirteen-point lead.
Ben went first. His first toss landed on the board. Jonas stood behind Rachel, nervously peering over her shoulder. Ben’s second toss landed on the board, but the force of the throw made it slide down into the grass.
“Come on, come on,” Jonas muttered. “Miss.”
She laughed. “You’re awful!”
“Shh!”
The third throw landed on the board.
“Yes!” Jonas squeezed her arm. “He’s choking!”
“Jonas!”
“What?” He gave her an innocent look. “What? It’s true.”
And then, on his final throw, Ben managed to get a beanbag into the cornhole. Four points. That was all he had won.
Rachel held her breath when his partner stepped up and began to throw. Her first throw missed the board. Jonas squeezed Rachel’s arm again.
“Stop that! You’re squishing my skin!”
The second throw missed the board.
This time, Rachel didn’t even notice that Jonas hadn’t released her arm. She knew what had just happened. There was no way that the other team could make up enough points to beat them. They’d won!
“Rachel!” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “You did it!”
“We did it,” she corrected.
She could tell that he was trying to contain his excitement, but it was contagious, and she, too, felt excited. She didn’t care if they won the final round, and she suspected that neither did Jonas. As long as they had knocked Ben out of the competition, that was all he cared about. And, suddenly, Rachel realized that all she cared about was making Jonas happy.
ELLA MAE
CHAPTER 33
She stood beside Jeremiah at the ice-cream stand, waiting patiently until it was their turn to order.
They’d driven along the back roads, the horse walking at a nice, brisk pace—but not at a trot—as they talked about their families and growing up in their respective communities. Ella Mae was amazed at how Jeremiah’s upbringing on the farm contrasted so much with hers closer to town. From the way he described it, the Esh family was very close, sharing every meal together until just recently.
In the Schwartz family home, the older children had married and moved out, some as far away as Ohio and Wisconsin. Their father was employed by an Englische roofing company and, therefore, worked hours that meant he wasn’t always home at regular times. The closeness of the Esh family sounded both foreign and delightful to Ella Mae.
“And then John married Bethany,” Jeremiah said as they moved closer to the front of the line. “She’s a bit on the quiet side—”
“Nothing wrong with that, I imagine,” Ella Mae added.
“—but a fine wife and friend to my bruder. I think my maem cares for her as much as she does us.”
Ella Mae laughed. “Don’t say such things! You’re all her sohns.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. I know how much she always hoped for a dochder. Now Maem has one that she gets along with quite well, and that makes me happy.”
By this time, they were at the take-out order window. Jeremiah leaned forward and slid a ten-dollar bill onto the ledge of the counter. “Two vanilla ice creams on sugar cones, please.”
“With sprinkles,” she whispered, tugging at his arm.
He glanced at her. “Rainbow or chocolate?”
She gave him a soft smile. “Chocolate, of course.”
His lips twitched, and he tried to hide his amusement at her answer. “Chocolate,” he said, drawing out the word. “Of course.”
A few minutes later, they walked slowly away from the ice-cream window, heading toward nowhere in particular as they tasted their ice cream, Ella Mae careful not to let any of it melt down the cone and onto her hand. She didn’t want it soiling her dress, either, so she kept a close eye on the drips.
“Isn’t it funny,” she started slowly, pausing to lick a long drip down the side of the cone. “We all live so close to one another and follow the same rules of the church—”
“Almost the same,” he interrupted.
“—yet we’ve all lived such different lives.”
He didn’t answer right away, and when she glanced up at him, she saw that he was gazing ahead as if reflecting on her comment. That was one of the things she found attractive about him, his willingness to consider her thoughts and reflect upon them. He didn’t dismiss her as being just a silly woman.
“I never really considered that, Ella Mae,” he said at last. “And you’re right. We all live independent lives, even though we’re often considered to be the same.”
She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “Do you really think so?”
“Well, among the Englische, anyway,” he added. “But the truth is that we’re not cut from a single cookie cutter. We’re all unique individuals with distinctive personalities and wants and dreams. Maybe part of that comes from the fact that we all have different upbringings.”
“I suppose it would be rather dull if everyone grew up the same way and became similar in personality.”
He laughed. “Oh, I can hardly imagine a world with a hundred Jonases!”
Ella Mae couldn’t help but join him. “That would be quite something, indeed.” She shook her hand at him as if warding off something bad. “I think it’s better not to imagine such a world, don’t you?”
The crowds were beginning to thin out. The families with younger children retreated to their hotel and motel rooms, while the younger couples had begun making their way to the tent where the evening’s festivities and music would soon begin.
“Do you like your ice cream?” he asked, leaning over to gently nudge her arm. “You’re awfully quiet. Must be quite good.”
“Mm-hmm.” She’d just taken a mouthful of the ice cream and, for a short moment, fought the urge to complain about the freezing cold that shot through her head. She shut her eyes and waved one hand, fluttering it next to her temples as she waited for the bolt of cold to disappear. When it did, she opened her eyes and saw him staring at her with an incredulous expression on his face.
“Brain freeze,” she explained softly.
Once again, he laughed. “Oh, Ella Mae, you are truly a welcome breath of fresh air!”
Tilting her head, she looked at him. “How do you figure?”
“For starters,” he began, walking close to her so that his arm brushed against hers, “you speak your mind and don’t try to pretend to be someone you’re not. Not many women are like that, at least not the ones I know. They are afraid to speak up and assert themselves.”
That’s how Rachel acted with him, she thought. The momentary wave of guilt that washed over her was immediately replaced by the realization that her sister had lost Jeremiah long before she thought she’d had him. If only she’d behaved like herself, Ella Mae thought, he might be sharing ice cream with Rachel instead of her. And yet, deep down, Ella Mae knew that she wasn’t disappointed in the way things appeared to be working out.
“I admire that about you,” he continued. “Your independence and confidence make me want to spend time with you, so that I can get to know you . . .” He paused to look at her. “. . . more.”
She pressed her lips together, trying to think of something to say. In her heart, she wanted to tell him that there was nothing she’d like better, but in her head, she knew that it wasn’t proper. Not with Rachel wanting to court him. Still, Jeremiah had explained that he had no intention of seeing Rachel again, not as a special friend anyway. Would her sister mind if she stepped into the shoes that Rachel had wanted to fill?
When she realized he was studying her, Ella Mae flushed. She dipped her head in a humble way, her eyes focused on the ground. She couldn’t look at him for fear that her facial expression would give away her thoughts. It had been the perfect afternoon and with surprisingly enjoyable company. Spending time with Jeremiah was diverting and engaging. In his company, she found it easy to say what she wanted, and despite her previous thoughts about him, he often shared his own opinion in response. He was anything but dull and boring. How had she ever thought such a thing?