Listening to Love

by Beth Wiseman

  “What kind of salad?”

  Cecelia cleared her throat as she pretended to study the menu. “Um . . . the Caesar salad.”

  Moses took off his reading glasses and handed them to her. “They don’t have Caesar salads here.”

  Cecelia’s heart pounded as she took the glasses but didn’t look at him. After she’d read the menu, she handed the gold-rimmed spectacles back to him. Who cares what he thinks anyway? And she was hungry for more than a salad. “I’ll have the meat loaf.”

  The waitress showed up as if on cue, and they ordered. Afterward, Moses’s smug smile returned. “Why do you keep smiling at me?”

  “I’m hoping it will be contagious and you’ll loosen up a little.”

  Cecelia gritted her teeth for a few seconds, hidden by a fake smile. “Loosen up a little?” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not even sure why you asked me out.” She pulled her eyes from his and shrugged. “I mean, I suppose it’s not a date, but . . .”

  She lifted her eyes to his and lowered her hands back in her lap when they became shaky again.

  Moses leaned forward a little. “Cecelia, relax. Maybe just try to have a gut time. We are two adults sharing a meal and getting to know each other.”

  Cecelia straightened. “I am relaxed.”

  “I’d hate to see you when you aren’t relaxed. I bet you’re scary.” He chuckled softly.

  She took a deep breath and reminded herself she would likely never see this man again after today. So, she took in his over-the-top good looks and stared at him for a long while. She figured she had nothing to lose, so she said, “I haven’t been to dinner with a man besides my husband in”—Natalie was nineteen, and Cecelia met Tom three years before she was born—“in twenty-two years.”

  “I’ve got you beat. Twenty-nine for me.” His snarky smile had vanished and was replaced by a much softer expression.

  “I’m sorry to hear about the recent passing of your wife.” Cecelia lifted a slightly shaking hand and took a sip of water.

  “Danki—I mean thank you. That cancer just latched onto her and never let go. And I’m sorry to hear about your divorce. It must have felt like a death after so many years of marriage.”

  “It did,” Cecelia said before she took another drink of water. “I don’t know why people don’t understand that. Especially my daughter, Natalie, whom I tried to explain that to. She still has her father. But my husband is gone.”

  “How do you busy yourself these days?”

  “I-I . . .” She laughed. “I don’t do much, I guess. Unless cleaning house counts.”

  Moses had wavy dark hair, flattened on top from his hat, and a lengthy dark beard, almost to his chest and barely starting to speckle with gray. He had the traditional cropped bangs the Amish boys and men wore. His ruggedness made him even more attractive. She could almost see him in cowboy boots atop a horse, herding cattle. Maybe she did need to relax and absorb some attention from a nice-looking man, even if he was Amish.

  “Ya, I work during the day, but my mind wanders in the evenings when I don’t have much to do. Do you have a job? I mean a job outside of the house?”

  Cecelia shook her head. “No. There doesn’t seem to be a market for someone with my skills.” She rolled her eyes, something she’d gotten on to Natalie about time after time, yet here she was doing the same thing. “I was a housewife. I kept the household afloat, I guess. I took care of paying the bills, making sure the pantry was stocked, and I cooked and always kept a clean house. I still do, but the workload isn’t like it used to be when Tom and Natalie lived there. Tom, that’s my ex-husband’s name.”

  Moses nodded but was quiet as the server returned with their meals.

  “Running a household is a job. It takes skill and balance.” Moses cut into a slice of liver flanked with onions, and just the smell made Cecelia’s stomach queasy. “Don’t underestimate yourself.”

  There was something different about this Amish man. The Plain people only went to school through the eighth grade, but Moses seemed more educated. “Have you always been Amish?”

  “Ya.”

  That voided Cecelia’s theory that he’d had more education than the rest of them.

  “Do you want a job outside of the home?” Moses forked another piece of meat and put it in his mouth, chewing while he waited for her to answer.

  “I need to work.” If she had a job she wouldn’t have to keep asking Natalie for money. She could get caught up on the mortgage before the bank foreclosed on her house. She’d stopped using her credit cards since they were maxed out. In time, perhaps she could start paying down the balances.

  “Marianne—that was mei fraa—she paid our bills too. She did everything related to our finances, and I’m struggling to keep up with it on top of my work.”

  “And what do you do?” Cecelia cut into her meat loaf, keeping one eye on him.

  Moses swallowed the bite in his mouth. “I break and train horses.”

  Of course you do. Cecelia covered her mouth so she didn’t lose her meat loaf as she started to laugh. Once she’d downed the bite, she still couldn’t help her grin.

  Moses smiled. “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m sorry. Nothing.” She waved a hand. “I just . . .” She tugged on her ear, realizing she’d forgotten earrings. “So, you’re like a cowboy?”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “My daughter loves animals. She’s going to school to be a veterinarian.” Cecelia was proud of Natalie, for her compassion for animals and her determination to go to school and fulfill her dreams.

  “What about you?” Moses was nearly finished with his food, and Cecelia had finally relaxed enough to enjoy her meat loaf. “Do you like animals?”

  Cecelia crinkled her nose. “I don’t dislike them. But to be honest, I’m a little afraid of animals. I was bitten by a neighbor’s dog when I was a young girl. When I was a little older, maybe eleven or twelve, I came across a feral cat at my grandmother’s house, and it tore me up.” She raised her bangs to reveal a small scar on her forehead. “I was left with this, and since then I’ve stayed away from animals. I always felt bad because Natalie grew up wanting a pet, and my fear prevented her from having one.”

  “It sounds like she will make up for it by being a vet.” Moses smiled, and Cecelia’s insides swirled. She couldn’t remember the last time a handsome man had paid her any attention, and it felt good, even if she never saw Moses again. A man was attracted to her.

  “I have a confession to make.” Moses grinned.

  Cecelia lowered her gaze and blinked a few times before she looked back at him. Was he going to tell her she was pretty? Maybe even confess to stalking her last weekend, wanting to be near her? At this moment, Cecelia didn’t care if this guy was Amish or not.

  “I followed you around at Levi and Mary’s haus last Saturday.” He smiled as Cecelia batted her eyes.

  “I know.” She faced off with him.

  “And I asked around about you, to see what your situation was. Levi told me you were divorced, but he wasn’t sure if you were working or not. He said you’d been looking for a job. But since you aren’t employed, how would you like to work for me?”

  The wind went out of Cecelia’s sails as her heart sank like the Titanic. This wasn’t a date. He didn’t ask her out because he thought she was attractive. Of course, he didn’t. He’s Amish.

  Cecelia’s cheeks were on fire, and she was tempted to run out of the restaurant. She silently lambasted herself for saying it was her first time out with a man since her husband. Her ego had just taken a punch in the gut. Still, she did need a job.

  “What would this job entail?” She scooped up a bite of mashed potatoes even though she’d lost her appetite.

  “It sounds like something you’d be gut at.” Moses laid his fork across his plate. “I need someone to pay the bills, keep track of deposits and checks on my ledger, run the occasional errand, and I’d pay extra if the person stocked my kitchen with somet
hing other than the cans of food I buy.” He grinned. “I’m sure there are some easy-to-prepare meals that don’t come out of a can, but I’m not finding them. My neighbors drop off more food than I deserve, but I’d like to be able to make myself a simple meal.”

  Cecelia shook her head. “You shouldn’t be eating anything out of a can. I’ve developed a few bad habits myself since my husband left . . .” An occasional drink here and there. She’d never consumed alcohol before Tom left her. It was a crutch she wanted to give up entirely, but one she still leaned on from time to time. “But I do eat healthy most of the time.” She eyed her meat loaf, buttery mashed potatoes, and carrots glazed with enough sugar to make them taste like dessert. “Most of the time.” Looking up at him, she smiled when he did.

  “I don’t think that’s eating badly.” He eyed Cecelia’s plate.

  “It’s a lot of carbs for me. But I tend to bend my own rules when I’m out to eat.”

  “So, any interest in helping this old guy get his finances in order?” He winked at her, but she didn’t take it the way she had when he winked at her last weekend. Moses was just friendly and charming. Cecelia had misjudged him by assuming he was flirting with her. “It wouldn’t be full-time.” He held up a palm. “And I probably can’t pay you what you’re worth, but it might serve two purposes. It would occupy your time and ease my mind.” He raised a shoulder and lowered it slowly. “You could set your own hours.”

  “Where would I do this work?” The thought of making any kind of money was causing adrenaline to shoot through her veins. She imagined telling Natalie she had a job. Would her daughter be proud of her, instead of always looking at her like the pitiful, broken woman she was?

  Moses wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Marianne used to spread everything out on the kitchen table and do it while she was baking, but there’s a small room in the back of the house that she used as a sewing room. You could have that room.”

  “I don’t sew,” she said quickly, hoping that wasn’t part of the job. She recalled the treadle sewing machine her grandmother used when she was a child. Cecelia didn’t function well on an electric sewing machine, so she doubted she’d do any better on one with a pedal. She thought about the no electricity issue—no air-conditioning—and how she’d seen Amish women sweltering in the summer heat. But it was only March. Warmer temperatures wouldn’t be upon them for at least a couple months, although the weather could be unpredictable.

  “No sewing necessary.” Moses stroked his beard. “I don’t need a fraa, just a bookkeeper.”

  Cecelia tore at the napkin in her lap, fidgeting like a schoolgirl, and feeling silly that she’d ever thought this man found her attractive. She came for an ego boost, but she might leave with a job, so all wasn’t lost.

  “What about your . . . your people? Would they approve of me being in your home working since I’m not, um, one of your kind?”

  Grinning, he said, “We’re not teenagers with raging hormones. I think it will be okay.

  “I only have one concern,” he said before she had time to reply.

  Cecelia straightened as she realized she didn’t have the job yet. “What?”

  “Sometimes I need help with the horses.”

  Cecelia’s eyes widened. “But they’re so big.”

  “This isn’t a deal breaker if you aren’t comfortable with the horses, but maybe you could spend a little time with them and see if you can conquer your fear.”

  She stared at him for a moment. He barely sounded Amish when he talked. Most of the Plain folks had a unique accent and used the Pennsylvania Deutsch dialect more frequently.

  She snapped back to attention and thought of being near an animal as large as a horse. Conquer your fears. Cecelia was afraid of everything these days—of failing at any job she took on, of sabotaging any future relationship that might come her way, not to mention the way her finances kept her in a constant state of turmoil. Maybe tackling her fear of animals would be a good start. “I would like the job if you’re offering it to me.” She pinched her lips together. “But maybe baby steps with the horses?”

  Smiling, he lifted his glass as if to toast her, so Cecelia did the same.

  “Welcome to my world,” he said, a soft smile spreading across his face.

  Fear and apprehension swirled in Cecelia’s mind, but another emotion fought for space, one she was happy to cling to. Hope.

  Chapter 5

  Lucas had overslept. Again. He was the last one at the breakfast table Wednesday morning, so he grabbed what was left of the eggs, snatched two pieces of bacon, and piled his plate with the three remaining pancakes. One by one, his siblings left the table to start their days. Even the youngest, Abram, left the room and returned with his book bag before Lucas finished eating.

  As he stuffed the last bite of bacon in his mouth, his mother began to clear the table. Lucas thought about his conversation with Natalie the night before. Their phone calls were lasting longer and longer. He was halfway through the book she’d recommended, so they talked about it in depth, though she was careful not to give away the ending. Lucas was enjoying the story, but the male character was hindered by so many obstacles and even resistance from the woman he loved. He struggled with how he could trust that he was following God’s will and not his own desires, both physical and emotional.

  Lucas couldn’t help following Natalie’s train of thought in comparing their situation with that of the characters in the book. Had God really called Lucas to teach Natalie about Him, or was it his own interpretation based on his feelings for her? They lived in a different era from the characters, and their circumstances were different, but love was universal and timeless. He hadn’t gotten into all of that with Natalie yet. He wanted to think and pray on it some more.

  He pushed back his chair, stood, and reached for his hat and coat on the rack by the kitchen door. “Have a gut day, Mamm.”

  “Lucas, wait.” His mother set the plate she was holding into soapy dishwater before drying her hands on her apron. “I want to ask you something.”

  “What is it, Mamm?” He was anxious to apply a final coat of stain to the dining room table he was working on before he went to meet Natalie at the library. She’d said last night she would have to meet him earlier than their normal three to three thirty time.

  “Where do you go in the afternoons on so many days?” Her eyes expressed more challenge than curiosity, and even though he didn’t think it was any of her business, he’d never been disrespectful to his mother. Since he still lived at home, maybe she had a right to ask.

  “I go to the library in Bedford.” Lucas turned to leave and was almost out the door when his mother spoke again.

  “That’s a fairly long ride in the buggy. Do you meet the Englisch girl there—Natalie?” Her voice was clipped as she spoke his friend’s name.

  “Ya, I meet her there.” Lucas looped his thumbs beneath his suspenders and shifted his weight. “We are friends, and we both like to read.”

  His mother took a step toward him. “Sohn, there are reasons why we are detached from outsiders.” She paused, her eyes darkening like angry thunderclouds. “And Natalie is very pretty.” Shaking her head, she said, “There is no gut to come from this.”

  “Ya, she is very pretty.” He walked closer to where his mother was standing and kissed her on the cheek. “But we are only friends. We like to read and talk about books.”

  “That’s fine, but we can’t always control our feelings, and getting involved romantically with that girl will only cause problems.”

  “Me and Natalie are trusting Gott to guide our path, Mamm. We’re just friends.” Lucas did trust God to guide his path, but again he questioned his interpretation of what God wanted from him.

  “And the Lord will guide you on your journey. But too often we step onto the wrong path without realizing it’s not Gott’s plan for us. Or we recognize that we’ve sidestepped but don’t have the courage or strength to back up and walk alongside Gott.”
<
br />   Lucas had thought about everything his mother said and more, but until the Lord showed him otherwise, Lucas chose to believe Natalie was in his life for a reason—so he could teach her about God. Everything wasn’t crystal clear, and maybe it never would be. But one question lingered in his mind more than any other. Even if his interpretation of God’s calling was correct, was his time with Natalie temporary? Would they stay friends after Lucas felt like he’d done God’s work? These jumbled thoughts were exhausting and causing more and more doubts to fill his head.

  “I’ve helped Natalie grow in her faith,” he said. “She has a relationship with Gott that she didn’t have before. I don’t see how that can be wrong.”

  His mother raised her chin and met his eyes. “We don’t make a habit of ministering to others, especially the Englisch.” She pointed a finger at him. “Someone is going to end up with a broken heart if you get too close to that maedel.”

  “You are worrying for nothing.” Lucas turned and walked out the door. As he strode to the barn to apply the stain on the table, he wondered if everyone around him saw something he and Natalie didn’t. He loved her, and he was pretty sure she loved him, but it wasn’t the kind of romantic love everyone seemed to be worried about. It couldn’t be. God wouldn’t allow that. Their goals for life were set. Natalie would become a veterinarian, and eventually Lucas would settle down with an Amish woman he hadn’t met yet.

  He began to apply the stain to the dining room table in the barn, but an uneasiness settled around him. And angered him. His time with Natalie was precious, and he felt calm and at peace with her, as she’d said she felt with him. Why did others have to stir up trouble and make it more complicated than it needed to be?

  By the time he finished the project and made it to the library, his thoughts were beyond scrambled and full of doubts that caused him to wonder if his friendship with Natalie wasn’t a good idea. Despite his convictions, maybe he should try to look at their friendship from an outside perspective. Would things look different?