by Amy Clipston
When he turned toward the hallway, he found Bruce sitting there, staring at him. “She’s pretty special, isn’t she, Bruce?”
His dog gave a woof in response.
“I think so too.” Drew grinned as he headed to his bedroom.
* * *
A soft knock sounded on Cindy’s door as she climbed into bed.
“Come in,” she said as she pulled her sheet over her nightgown.
When Sarah Jane opened the door and stepped inside, dread pooled in the pit of Cindy’s stomach. She hoped her stepsister wasn’t here to argue. She was too tired and too happy after her visit with Drew for another disagreement.
But then hope swept through her. Maybe Sarah Jane had come to apologize.
“Did you have a gut visit with Drew?” Sarah Jane stood at the foot of Cindy’s bed.
“Ya, I did.” Cindy leaned back against the headboard. “He loved the pie.”
“Gut.” Sarah Jane pushed her waist-length medium-brown hair over her slight shoulder. “Do you have feelings for him?”
Cindy clenched her jaw. Sarah Jane was not here to apologize. “No, I don’t. We’re just freinden.”
“I just don’t understand why you need him as a freind when we have plenty of young folks our age in our church district. If you came to youth group, you’d meet more of them, and you’d feel like a part of our community.”
“It’s more complicated than that. Drew and I can relate to each other.” Cindy shrugged. “He understands me, because he lost his parents and aunt, just like I lost Mamm. He knows what it’s like to grieve someone. I don’t feel like I fit in at youth group because the other members haven’t had to navigate through the depth of grief I have. When I’m with Drew, I can be completely honest. We have a special connection I don’t have with any other freinden. I feel like he’s the only person who truly understands what I’ve gone through.”
Sarah Jane’s eyes widened, and then something like hurt flickered over her pretty face. “Cindy, I’ve lost mei dat. That’s why we’re stepsisters.” She pointed at her own chest. “Why can’t you talk to me?”
Guilt, hot and sharp, sliced through Cindy. But how could she believe Sarah Jane understood the depth of her grief? After all, she’d readily accepted their parents’ marriage and never seemed to doubt how quickly they’d moved on with their lives. It was as if Cindy was the only member of the family who still felt the great void Mamm’s loss had left behind.
But she didn’t want to be unkind.
“I’m sorry, Sarah Jane. I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
Sarah Jane shook her head. “I really don’t understand you. We have everything we need in our community. Gut, solid Christian men in our youth group would love to get to know you, but you insist upon walling yourself off.”
The fight fizzled out of Cindy, and her shoulders sagged. “Sarah Jane, I’m too tired to have this discussion again. Can we talk tomorrow?”
“If that’s what you want,” Sarah Jane snapped. “Just remember that Mamm and I warned you. If you get into trouble for spending time with Drew, it’s your fault.” Then she spun on her heel and marched out of Cindy’s room, the door clicking shut behind her.
Cindy flipped off her lantern and rolled onto her side as Sarah Jane’s words echoed in her mind. Surely her stepsister was being overly concerned. It might take some time for everyone to understand her friendship with Drew, but no trouble would come from it. They weren’t doing anything wrong. She was enjoying getting to know him better, and he seemed to enjoy her company. She looked forward to delivering more chocolate pies to him if it meant more evenings like this one.
nine
Drew swiped at the sweat gathering on his forehead and then picked up his pitchfork to continue mucking a stall in Ervin’s barn. The barn was humid, and the air was stale and still as the scent of animals filled his nose, but he smiled to himself as his mind replayed his evening on the porch with Cindy the night before.
He’d fallen asleep thinking of her beautiful smile and their easy conversation. It had been the perfect evening as they’d eaten the delicious pie and drunk coffee, and he hoped to share many more like it with her.
He was finishing the first stall when he heard someone call his name. He looked over his shoulder to find Ervin standing behind him. After leaning the pitchfork against the wall, Drew turned toward him and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his T-shirt. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“How’s it going?” Ervin pointed toward the stall.
“Slowly.” Drew blew out a deep breath. “It’s hot today.”
“Well, it’s July, sohn.” Ervin touched his beard and looked around the barn as if contemplating something.
Drew leaned back against the stall wall and wiped his hands down his jeans. “Is everything all right?”
“Ya.” Ervin nodded. “I want to ask you something, though. Did I see Cindy Riehl leaving your haus last night?”
Drew stood up straight, alarm suddenly gripping him. He couldn’t allow Ervin to get the wrong idea about his friendship with Cindy. “Yes and no. She came to visit, but we sat on the back porch while we talked. She wasn’t inside my house.”
“Uh-huh.” Ervin’s expression hardened. “I need you to realize that it’s inappropriate for an Amish woman to date an Englisher. We believe only baptized Amish folks can date and marry.”
“We’re not dating.” Drew kept his words measured. “We’re just friends, and she insisted that she’s permitted to be my friend.”
“You may be only friends, but others in the community might misinterpret your friendship, and that would damage her reputation.”
Drew stilled as a knot of unease formed in his chest. “But we haven’t done anything inappropriate. All we’ve done is talk.” He ignored a flash of memory, how it had felt to hold her hand during the fireworks.
“I believe you, but if the bishop finds out Cindy has been spending time with you, he might visit her house and talk to her and her father. She could get into quite a bit of trouble.”
“What do you mean? She told me she hasn’t joined the church.”
“That’s true, but unfortunately, some people in the community talk. Gossip is sinful, but it exists, even among the Amish.”
Drew gulped as trepidation crept up his neck. “So if I see her, people in the community might get the wrong impression, damaging her reputation.”
“Exactly.” Ervin’s expression was grave. “You’re a gut man, and I know you’d never want to hurt her.”
“Never.” Drew’s response was louder than he’d intended.
“But I had to warn you before she got into trouble.”
“I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me.”
Ervin suddenly smiled. “Perhaps she enjoys your company as much as you enjoy hers, but the fact is she can’t see you because you aren’t Amish, not without risking her reputation.”
“Can she be shunned if she spends time with me?”
“Not exactly. We can’t shun someone who isn’t a member of the church.” Ervin pointed toward the barn entrance. “That’s why mei sohn lived in that house for a short while but was never shunned. He never joined the church. But that doesn’t mean community members won’t treat Cindy differently because of her actions.”
Confusion swarmed Drew’s mind. He craved a relationship with Cindy, but he didn’t want to hurt her. If he continued to see her, she could face judgment in her community, even though it would be unfair. How could he allow that to happen?
The answer was simple—he couldn’t. He cared about her too much to take that risk. He had to stay away from her to protect her.
“I understand.” Drew nodded as reality struck him. He couldn’t see Cindy. The thought sent a torrent of emotions raging through him—anger, disappointment, confusion, grief, and loneliness. He’d finally found someone who understood him and made him happy. How could he let her go?
“I’m sorry, sohn.” Ervin sighed. “I had a feeli
ng you weren’t aware of what it could mean if you continued to see her.”
“I appreciate that.” Despair weighed down on Drew’s shoulders as he picked up the pitchfork. “I’m going to get back to work now.”
As Ervin walked away, Drew returned to mucking the stall, slamming the tool through the hay to ease the wrath that bit into his back and shoulders.
Drew had no idea how to move on without Cindy in his life. All he could do was bury his feelings the best way he knew how—by working his muscles until his body went numb.
* * *
Cindy leaned back against her headboard as she read the Christian novel she’d started last night when she couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts had been wrapped around Drew since leaving his house Friday night.
It was now Sunday afternoon, and despite her fervent prayers for relief at church this morning, her heart still ached to see him again. She’d hoped reading would both distract her and pass the time.
She turned a page, even though she couldn’t recall what she’d just read. She tried to concentrate on the printed words, but it was no use. All she could see in her mind’s eye was Drew’s handsome face and breathtaking smile. What was happening to her?
A soft knock sounded on her door.
“Cindy?” Florence’s voice sounded from the hallway. “May I please come in?”
“Ya.” Cindy set the book on her nightstand as Florence came in, and then she looked up as her stepmother sat down on the edge of her bed. She looked serious.
“I want to speak with you.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
Florence folded her hands as her expression became even more concerning. “This is difficult for me to say.” She paused again. “Your dat is very upset. He didn’t ask me to come speak with you. I offered to try to help fix things between you.”
Cindy pulled in a deep breath as her back stiffened. This has to be about Drew.
“Your dat is concerned about your friendship with Drew, and I have to admit I am too.”
“I’ve already told you we’re just freinden.” Cindy fought to keep her boiling temper in check. “There’s nothing to be concerned about.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” Florence began to count on her fingers. “You’ve gone out with him alone, you’ve gone to visit him at his haus, you’ve baked for him, and you’ve delivered food to him. Those are things young people do when they’re dating. It’s not appropriate, and you realize that if the bishop finds out about it, he’ll visit us. He’ll talk to you and your dat. Do you want to disappoint your dat that way?”
Cindy felt her nostrils flare. “I’m not baptized. That means the bishop can’t tell me what to do.”
“No, but he can still embarrass your dat. Do you want him to be embarrassed?”
“No.” Cindy’s voice was soft as guilt began to invade her.
Florence tilted her head as her expression softened. “I don’t understand why you don’t want to go to youth group with Sarah Jane.”
Cindy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. How many times did she have to explain her feelings about youth group? She worked to keep her expression neutral. Disrespecting Florence wouldn’t help her case, nor gain her stepmother’s understanding and empathy.
“Sarah Jane told me you feel like you don’t belong in youth group and the community. Why is that?”
Although Cindy wasn’t surprised to learn Sarah Jane and Florence talked about her, her stepmother’s admission still sent a hot shaft of irritation through her.
“I’ve felt disconnected from the community since mei mamm died.” Cindy’s voice sounded rough to her own ears. “I don’t fit in because I don’t think anyone can relate to my grief. I’ve felt alone ever since my siblings moved on so easily . . . almost as if we never lost our mamm. Yet I’ll never be the same because she’s gone.”
“We all still grieve for our loved ones. I’m certain your siblings miss your mamm, and you’re not alone in your grief. Walter, Sarah Jane, and Roy miss their dat, and I miss him too.” Florence paused, and her expression warmed. “I know I’m not your mamm, and I would never try to replace her.” Florence’s brown eyes seemed to search hers. “But I love you, Cindy. I truly care about you. You can always talk to me if you need someone.”
The guilt gnawing away at Cindy became stronger, but she could never talk to Florence the way she could talk to her mother. It would never be the same!
“Danki,” Cindy whispered as wetness filled her eyes.
“Your family and community love you. Why would you look elsewhere for acceptance?”
Cindy felt her eyes narrow. “I didn’t plan to look elsewhere. Drew and I just connected when we met. He understands me.”
Florence pointed to the floor. “You belong in this community and in the Amish church. God loves you too. And he will forgive your sins if you confess.”
“Confess?” Cindy sat up straight as if steel had been poured down her spine. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Making a freind is not a sin.”
“You were born and raised Amish. It’s wrong for you to look for love with an Englisher.”
“I’m not looking for love.” But wasn’t she? Weren’t her feelings for Drew growing daily? She ignored the questions twirling through her mind. “I have nothing to confess.”
Florence pressed her lips together before going on. “You need to follow your dat’s rules, and that means following the rules of the church. You must promise me you’ll stay away from Drew.”
Cindy’s lower lip trembled. “I can’t do that.”
“It’s what your dat wants, and this is his haus.” Florence pointed to the floor again. “Your behavior is hurting your dat. Is that what you want?”
Cindy shook her head. “No.”
“Then promise me.” Florence folded her arms over her apron. “If you’re going to be a dutiful dochder, then you need to promise me.”
Florence’s words sent a knife through Cindy’s heart. How could she not promise to be a dutiful daughter? It’s what her mother would have expected, and she could never disrespect her mother’s memory.
“Okay,” Cindy croaked. “I promise.” But the words sent the knife thrusting deeper into her heart.
“Danki.” Florence gently squeezed Cindy’s hand. “Your dat will be froh to hear it.” She stood, a smile spreading across her face. “Come down in a little bit. I’m going to pull out a chocolate cake I made yesterday.”
Cindy nodded and sniffed as tears stung her eyes. Florence disappeared from her room, the door clicking shut behind her.
With her chest aching, Cindy rolled over onto her side and dissolved into tears as the thought of breaking her friendship with Drew tore at her soul. How could she let go of the one person who understood her? How could their friendship be a sin if it felt so natural and pure?
Cindy had no idea how she’d go on without Drew. The grief was so intense she was certain it might smother her.
Once again, she was lost and all alone—a stranger in her own home.
* * *
“Danki,” Cindy told Franey Herschberger as she paid for her fabric and supplies. Then she carried her large bag out of Herschberger’s Fabrics and headed down the street.
It had been nearly three weeks since she’d seen Drew, and when the ache didn’t dull, Cindy started pouring herself into sewing projects.
Each day after she finished her chores, she would sew or quilt for hours, asking God to give her solace from her heartache as she worked. She’d not only taken on more sewing jobs from customers, but started making a log cabin quilt featuring blocks with different shades of blue and gray. She wasn’t certain what she was going to do with the quilt when she finished it. She’d briefly considered selling it, but she could decide after she’d completed the project.
She had hoped Drew would stop by with her pie plate and give her the opportunity to speak to him one last time, but as the days had worn on, she’d started wondering if her father had spoken to Drew and war
ned him to stay away from her. Or perhaps Cindy had come on too strong and she’d managed to scare him off with her gifts of baked goods or the confessions of her deepest and darkest emotions.
All Cindy knew for certain was that she missed Drew, and the loneliness was starting to eat away at her soul.
When she reached the corner, she stopped to let a car drive past. She stepped off the curb and then heard someone call her name.
Turning, she gasped when she spotted Drew jogging down the street toward her. Was she hallucinating? Had her heartache caused her to lose her mind?
“Cindy!” Drew’s grin was wide as he hurried toward her, a bag with Lancaster Hardware Store printed on it dangling from his hand. “I thought that was you!”
“Hi.” She worked to keep her expression blank to hold back any hint of the pain his absence had caused her.
Something that looked like confusion flickered over his face before his brow furrowed.
“How are you?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She lifted her chin.
“I haven’t seen or heard from you in almost three weeks.” His eyes seemed to search hers. “I’ve missed you.”
A strangled sob escaped Cindy’s throat, and she worked to stop the tears that threatened to follow. “You’ve missed me?”
“Yes. Tremendously.” He reached for her hand, but then pulled his hand back. “We need to talk.”
“I have to go.” She crossed the street.
“Wait!” Drew came after her. “Have lunch with me.”
“I can’t.” She whirled toward him.
“Please.” He held up his hands. “It’s just lunch, not a marriage proposal.”
She hesitated as Florence’s words about being a dutiful daughter surfaced in her mind. But didn’t Cindy have the right to talk to Drew one last time and explain why she’d stayed away from him?
“Fine,” she said. “But I need to call my driver to ask him to give me more time.”
“I can give you a ride home. Just tell him you ran into a friend.” Drew pulled his phone from his pocket, and his expression seemed hopeful.