Her Amish Suitor's Secret

by Carrie Lighte

  “Voll schpass,” Caleb replied, flashing those shiny white teeth at her.

  She fetched a bag of paper cups and a thermal jug from his canoe. Rose and Eleanor perched on a fallen log, and Caleb and Henry leaned against individual rocks as they drank the sun-brewed mint iced tea Rose had brought. When they were done, she collected the used cups to discard at the camp and picked up a crushed beer can nearby, too.

  “One of the guests must have left this, even though we warn them not to litter,” she explained to Caleb. “We don’t want our hiking privileges revoked.”

  “Anyone want to jog up to the Point?” Henry asked, obviously showing off.

  His sister objected. “Barefoot? No way. My feet are too tender and Caleb already has blisters. We’ll stay here, but you and Rose can go ahead if you’d like to.”

  “I wouldn’t like to,” Rose said. She was sick of Eleanor trying to fob off her brother so she could be alone with Caleb. “I’m getting hungerich and I want to go back to the haus. It’s our turn to race. You against me, Eleanor.”

  “No fair,” the younger woman whined. “You’re a lot more muscular than I am. Look how broad your shoulders are compared to mine!”

  Oh, brother. If Eleanor was trying to be insulting, she’d have to try harder than that. Rose liked her athletic build, and she carried herself with confidence. Turning Eleanor’s words around, she admitted, “You’re right, you probably are a lot weaker than I am. I’ll just have to race Caleb instead.”

  Caleb looked amused. “You think you’re up for that?”

  “I could beat you blindfolded.”

  “You’re on,” Caleb agreed. “Eleanor, hand me your kerchief, please.”

  “Why?”

  “Rose thinks she can beat me blindfolded.”

  “That was a figure of speech,” Rose said. “I’m not really going to race you blindfolded.”

  “Afraid you’ll lose?” Caleb’s eyes twinkled charmingly, but not irresistibly.

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” Rose declared. “But if one of the canoes capsizes and sinks, I’ll have to replace it.”

  “C’mon, Rose, this will be schpass,” Henry spurred her on. “Nothing will happen to the canoes. I’ll direct you straight to shore. Trust me.”

  “Rose doesn’t trust anyone,” Eleanor goaded.

  Bristling, Rose responded by taking a seat in the bow of the canoe and placing the paddle across her knees. Then she unpinned her kerchief and folded it into a long rectangle to tie over her eyes. Caleb sat down and began to do the same with Eleanor’s head covering.

  “No peeking,” he warned.

  Rose stuck her tongue out at him before she realized he couldn’t see her anyway.

  “On your mark, get set, go!” Eleanor yelled, and Rose paddled with all her might.

  “Go, Rose, go!” Henry yelled. “Right, paddle on your right side! Now left. Left.”

  Rose followed his instructions but she could barely hear him over Eleanor’s screams. “Hurry, Caleb, hurry! You’re passing her, you’re passing her!”

  Fighting the urge to laugh—this really was a crazy thing to be doing, and it was a lot of fun—Rose pulled through the water in deep, hard strokes, her muscles burning until Henry finally announced, “We’re almost there. This is the final stretch, Rose! We’re winning—”

  Not five seconds later, Caleb and Eleanor’s canoe knocked into theirs so forcefully Rose felt like her molars were vibrating. She lurched sideways, nearly toppling into the water. When she peeled the kerchief from her eyes she saw they were headed straight for a rock that peaked just below the water’s surface. There was no time to change course and she winced as it scraped against the hull of the canoe, nearly bringing them to a standstill as they passed over it.

  Onshore, Eleanor was getting out of the canoe, shouting, “You did it, Caleb! We won!”

  Caleb paid her no attention. “Are you okay?” he called to Henry and Rose.

  “We’re fine, but I’m not so sure about the boat,” Henry replied.

  Rose propelled them the rest of the way to shore, where Caleb and Henry flipped the canoe to take a look. Sure enough, a gouge marred the hull and a deep scratch ran half the length of the vessel. And this is exactly what happens when you blindly trust someone, Rose thought. “Great, just what I needed—one more thing to try to rebuild,” she uttered in disgust.

  Too exasperated to say anything else, she stormed toward the house, but not before Eleanor remarked to Caleb, “Kind of a sore loser, isn’t she?”

  * * *

  Caleb pressed his fingertips gently against the dent on the canoe’s hull, but it didn’t give way—a good sign. It meant the damage was mostly cosmetic and he could easily fix it if he picked up a few supplies. He asked Henry to help him carry the canoe to the barn since he didn’t want any of the guests using it until it was repaired.

  “I hope Rose doesn’t blame me for causing her to run over the rock. It’s not my fault we bumped into them,” Eleanor insisted as she trailed after the men. “I couldn’t see around you, Caleb, so I didn’t know we were about to collide.”

  “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine,” Caleb reassured her. “I shouldn’t have suggested we race like that in the first place. But, uh, right now Rose seems pretty upset and it’s time for me to millich the kuh, so—”

  Henry got the message. “Jah, we should leave now. We’ll go get our shoes and, uh, can you tell Rose I said mach’s gut?”

  “Sure,” Caleb agreed. If she’s still talking to me.

  “See you tomorrow, Caleb,” Eleanor said. “I hope Rose doesn’t chew you out too bad.”

  I hope the same thing. When he had finished with the evening milking, Caleb brought the pail to the house, but Rose didn’t answer the door. Since he didn’t want to spoil more milk by leaving it outside in the heat again, he opened the door and called, “Rose?”

  She must have been upstairs or in the bathroom because she didn’t answer, so Caleb tentatively scanned the entryway. A few feet farther inside was a narrow desk, and atop of it a notebook labeled Reservations caught his eye. Aha! He tiptoed to the desk. With trembling hands, he flipped the book open to scan the entries. He wasn’t sure how he would identify the strangely behaved couple’s names or cabin number, but he figured any information he could glean would be helpful.

  “What are you doing?” Rose demanded, leaning over the banister halfway down the stairs. He slapped the book closed without finding the late-May entries.

  “I, uh, brought in the millich. You didn’t kumme to the door when I knocked or called so I let myself in.”

  “I can see that. But why are you rifling through that paperwork?”

  “I wanted... I wanted one of the wilkom pamphlets you told me about.” It wasn’t an outright lie—Caleb did want a welcome pamphlet—but this time he somehow felt guiltier for misleading her than when he’d given vague responses to Rose’s other questions.

  She bustled down the stairs, reached in front of him and pulled a tri-fold sheet of paper from a folder beneath the reservation book. “Here.”

  “Denki.” He exchanged the pail for the paper. “I also wanted to say I’m really sorry about the canoe. I’ll pay for the supplies to repair it—which I’ll do myself. The damage is minimal. I’ll have it shipshape again by midday tomorrow.”

  She peered at him through narrowed eyes. “I’d appreciate that and so will our guests.” She moved toward the door and held it open, obviously dismissing him.

  Ordinarily he would have beaten a path back to his cabin, but Caleb felt compelled to get back on better terms with Rose again. “So, uh, does this mean you’re not making me any supper?”

  Shifting the milk pail to her other hand, she kept the door propped open with her foot. “Seriously?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that?”

 
He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m hungerich and your meals are the highlight of my day.”

  Watching the smile come over Rose’s face was like watching a flower open. “Fine,” she conceded. “Since it’s the Sabbat, we’re just having leftovers. You can wait on the porch while I prepare them.”

  Caleb hummed as he rocked in the glider and reveled in the view of the lake until Rose emerged from the house with a tray. He immediately recognized the dish as being Amish haystack, which was a combination of cooked hamburger and pork mixed with tomato sauce and chopped vegetables—asparagus and broccoli in this case—served on a bed of lettuce and topped with melted cheese. Somehow, no matter what was included in the mishmash of ingredients, a haystack dinner always turned out to be delectable, and Caleb was glad Rose hadn’t skimped on their portions. He was even gladder to see the tray also contained two slices of strawberry-rhubarb pie.

  “So Hope and Charity still aren’t home?” he asked, his mouth half-full.

  “Neh, not yet. I hope they don’t stay out too late. Their rumspringa began a couple months ago. They’re bright, sensible, Godly meed, but they’re also a little naive about people’s intentions. I don’t want them to wind up hurt because someone has taken advantage of them.”

  Caleb forced himself to stop eating long enough to comment, “I understand your concern. If I had gschwischderkinner like Charity and Hope, I’d want to shield them from the influence of Englisch teenagers, too.”

  “Englisch teenagers? It’s not the Englischers who worry me—it’s their Amish peers. Just because they’re Amish doesn’t mean their behavior is always honorable, you know.” Rose’s expression clouded. “And that goes for me, too... I’m sorry I was so short-tempered about the canoe cracking. I know it was an accident.”

  “Jah, but I shouldn’t have badgered you into racing blindfolded. You didn’t want to.”

  “Only because if anything goes wrong at the camp, it’s ultimately my responsibility to fix it.” Rose chewed her bottom lip as she served him a slice of pie. “As a business owner, I haven’t always made wise decisions, so I’m trying to change that.”

  “You own a business?”

  “I used to. A restaurant. But, well, I had to give up my lease.” She picked a crumb from where it had fallen on her lap, her voice brightening as she added, “I intend to rent a new place in the fall if I can afford it. That’s why I’ve been making so much jam—I’m trying to earn more money on the side to cover what I’ll need for a down payment on the café.”

  Aha. So that explained why Rose sometimes seemed so uptight; she was financially pressured. Caleb felt honored she had confided in him. Smacking his lips, he laid down his fork. “If it’s money you need, you really ought to consider selling pies, not jam. People can polish off a pie quicker than they can consume a jar of jam. With dessert this tasty, they’d be coming back for more the next day. You’d make a fortune.”

  * * *

  Rose would have been inclined to think Caleb was flattering her again, but he’d devoured his pie with such gusto she believed he genuinely meant what he said. “That’s actually not a bad suggestion.”

  “Jah, it sure beats my idea about canoeing blindfolded,” he joked, making her giggle. Then his forehead wrinkled with sincerity as he apologized again, “I really am sorry about that. Like I said, I can fix the damage right away, but that means I’ll need to take the buggy into town tomorrow morning.”

  If Rose was going to make pies, she’d need to buy ingredients and aluminum foil pie plates, and she also had to make a deposit at the bank, so she said she’d like to accompany Caleb. They were working out a mutually agreeable time to go when Charity and Hope came around the side of the house—one of their friends must have dropped them off near the barn—and plodded up the stairs. They looked upset.

  Caleb seemed to notice their frowns, too. “Hello, you two,” he said. “Is something wrong?”

  They exchanged glances before Charity responded. “First of all, we really were playing volleyball at Miriam Lapp’s haus for most of the afternoon...” she began.

  Rose was instantly alarmed. “But?”

  “But afterward we went to Black Bear Lake. Miriam knows some Englisch kids whose eldre let them use their speedboats. So we cruised around for a while with them.”

  Although it gave her the chills to imagine her young cousins tooling around a crowded lake in a speedboat with a teenager at the helm, Rose resisted the urge to express her disapproval. She didn’t want to make Charity and Hope reluctant to talk openly with her in the future. Besides, the girls were such hard workers, and with their father being so ill for so long, Rose was glad they’d been enjoying a little summer recreation with their friends. “Was someone hurt?” she asked as calmly as she could manage.

  “Neh, nothing like that happened. We were really careful—we all wore life vests,” Hope assured her, fidgeting. “But one of the Englisch kids, Oliver Graham, made a point of telling the other Englischers we were the ones whose camp was raided by the FBI.”

  “Jah,” Charity chimed in. “Oliver said the thieves they were looking for are drug abusers who stayed at our camp and that they’re still hanging out in the area. He claimed Mamm and Daed covered for them because they’re afraid of what’ll happen to us if they turn them in.”

  Rose went off on an uncensored tirade. “That’s absolute hogwash! First of all, your mamm and daed told the authorities everything they knew. Secondly, nothing ever came of the FBI’s search—and if you or anyone else was ever in danger, they definitely would have warned us. Furthermore, didn’t you hear what the deacon said in church today about how nothing happens outside of Gott’s sovereign will? That baremlich bu was just being a pest. I can’t understand why he’d want to scare you like that, but what he said is complete rubbish.”

  “See?” Charity said to Hope. For Rose and Caleb’s benefit, she explained, “I told Hope Oliver was being vengeful because when he asked her to go in his speedboat alone with him, she turned him down in front of everyone.”

  “I wasn’t trying to embarrass him. I just didn’t want to go,” Hope said, twisting her mouth to the side.

  “You used sound judgment, and there’s no need to justify your refusal to go anywhere with any bu.” Caleb spoke up before Rose could express what would have amounted to the same sentiment. “What did you say his name is?”

  Hope hesitated, glancing at Charity again before answering. “Oliver Graham. His eldre own Graham Cabins on Black Bear Lake.”

  “Did he mention how he heard that the thieves were still hanging out in the area?”

  Charity shook her head and Hope shrugged, but Rose got the feeling they knew the answer. What was Caleb planning to do? Tell the bu’s eldre on him? For the twins’ sake, she wanted him to drop the subject.

  “Why does it matter?” she questioned. “You know how rumors start, especially among kids. The less attention we give that kind of gossip, the better off we’ll be. Hope and Charity, I saved you some boi. Let’s go inside and I’ll get it for you.”

  She thought she’d made her point, but before she could say good-night and follow the girls through the door, Caleb stopped her. “Uh, can I talk to you privately for a minute, Rose?”

  * * *

  “Jah, what is it?” Rose raised an eyebrow at Caleb after the girls were out of earshot. He feared he was about to damage his newly established rapport with her, but his concern was too important to leave unspoken.

  “You’re probably right. What Oliver told the girls was likely a lecherich rumor, but I still think we should be on the lookout for anyone whose behavior seems odd.”

  Rose’s mouth dropped open and her eyebrows jumped up in mock horror. “You mean like...like people canoeing blindfolded on the lake?” she whispered furtively.

  Caleb wasn’t amused. “Neh, I mean like strangers on the property.”

  “The only peop
le who ever come to the camp are our guests or our friends, so I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

  “Still, I’ve noticed you don’t lock the door to the haus...”

  “Of course I don’t—I go in and out of it all day.”

  “Exactly! Anyone could wander in while you’re gardening or down at the dining hall.”

  Rose snapped her fingers as if she suddenly remembered something. “Jah, you’re right. Just this evening a man drifted into the haus. He claimed to be bringing me millich and looking for a wilkom pamphlet, but he had a funny accent. Clearly he wasn’t from around here. Maybe I should call the police?”

  Any other time, Caleb would have responded with a wisecrack of his own, but tonight he frowned. “Rose, I’m serious.”

  Her levity extinguished, Rose huffed. “As I said, my ant and onkel told the agents and detectives everything they knew, and law enforcement was satisfied there was never any thief staying here. As for someone wandering into the haus, the only cash on-site is what we receive from guests when they check in on Samschdaag. And I keep that money well hidden until I can deposit it at the bank, usually the following Muundaag. I doubt the earnings from our produce stand and my jam would be enough to entice anyone to steal.”

  “It’s not the money I’m concerned about. It’s you and the meed—”

  “Whatever happened to you telling my onkel Sol you thought I could chase away any unsavory characters myself?”

  “I meant guys from kurrich, not potential thieves or drug abusers. You can’t be too careful, you know.”

  “You sound like an Englischer. What’s next? Is locking our doors being prudent enough or should we install surveillance cameras the way Mrs. Hallowell does?” she gibed. “As I said, we do take precautions, but beyond that, we have to believe the Lord will watch over us.”

  “I do believe that. But I also believe the Lord wants us to be gut stewards of our resources. To safeguard what He’s given us—including our lives.”