Chasing Paradise

by Cindy Patterson

  She took the job to make friends, and he had cut her off completely. The memory of her words, her tone, her disappointment, twisted like a knife through his chest. It probably crushed her.

  He took a sip of his coffee, but the strong, warm flavor gave him little comfort.

  She folded her hands under her chin. “I’ve really left her to fend for herself.”

  He wanted to sit with Rachel, to be near her—to apologize.

  She yawned. “I wanted to fix the loft in the barn for her. Give her somewhere to hang out, a place of her own. I don’t know when I’ll have time to get to it.” She took another sip. “Would you be interested in helping me?”

  “Jah. There’s some extra wood. If you didn’t want to save it, I could use that. What are her interests so I can give it a more personal touch.” Something deep within cheered at the thought of learning more about her.

  “What a wonderful idea!” She stood, grabbed a towel, and wiped off the table. “She enjoys reading and softball. Photography. She loves children. She's really smart. Has always made straight As. For as long as I can remember, she has tutored other students. And her heart ... she has the kindest heart.” She turned and faced him fully, her eyes gleaming. “You just don't find the maturity she has in girls her age these days.”

  He'd seen that, just in the small amount of time he'd spent with her. And photography. That explained all the pictures. Paul stood, his outlook brighter than it had been in days.

  “Oh, I almost forgot. I think Rachel was dreaming, because she never answered me, but she said your name. She must have thought you were still sitting with her.”

  Mrs. Adams walked away, leaving him speechless. His eyes widened, and he was unable to blink. Should he tell her Rachel called out her dad's name yesterday? That made more sense than her saying his name. She hadn't known he was there. Or had she?

  Rachel only wanted to be his friend. He had treated her different from the moment he laid eyes on her. And all because she created feelings in him, feelings he’d never experienced—feelings he couldn’t explain.

  But maybe he could make it up to her. He wanted to create the perfect loft and was almost desperate to get started.

  12

  On Friday morning, Rachel hurried toward her car hoping to catch a glimpse of Paul working by the barn. She wanted to confront him, to make him understand she'd only read that book because her mom had suggested it. She hadn't even wanted to read it. Not at first. He didn't have to know that, or how much she enjoyed it, how being swept into that world made her think of him.

  But none of that mattered. He wasn't there.

  Returning to work was just what she needed. The restaurant gave her an escape. She'd go crazy in that house all day, thinking about Paul, about how he wanted little to do with her.

  The familiar aroma of blueberry muffins filled her senses as she entered the Plain and Fancy, and she remembered with a pang of regret, she’d skipped breakfast again in a hurry to get to work.

  Coffee would have to do this morning.

  She had just finished tying her apron when an elderly man entered and took a seat in her section. His gray beard, matted with tangles, hung to his breastbone.

  “Guder mariye.”

  Rachel replied with confidence, “Good morning to you. What can I get for you today?”

  “I’ll have a ham and cheese breakfast sandwich, a sticky bun, and a cup of coffee.”

  She scribbled his order and slipped the pad in her apron. “I’ll put your order in and be right back with your coffee.”

  The man’s broad smile filled his full cheeks. “Danki.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  A group of teenage Amish girls gathered around one of her tables. She gave the man's order to the cook, poured a cup of coffee for another customer, and returned to the floor.

  She reached for her pad as she approached the Amish teenagers. “Hi, I’m Rachel. I’ll be your server today.”

  “Wiegeht’s, how are you? Is Kelli working today?” One of the girls asked.

  Why would they be asking for Kelli? “She’s on break right now, but she’ll be back in few minutes.” Rachel gave a polite smile.

  One by one she took their order, trying not to imagine Paul courting one of them. They were all pretty, especially the blonde with eyes the color of blue ice. Wisps of wavy tresses spilled from her cap. She was probably the lucky one.

  “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

  She exhaled as she returned to the kitchen. Did Paul think he was better than her because of his heritage? Her skin tingled as she recalled his piercing gaze, edged with a trace of warmth. She shook the thought and focused on the order.

  Kelli returned just as she entered the kitchen.

  “Some Amish teenagers are asking for you.”

  “Oh, it must be Belinda. She’s a friend of mine.”

  “What do you mean … friend? You have an Amish friend?”

  “Sure. There are so many of them around here, you’re bound to become friends with some of them.”

  Rachel placed the drinks on the tray and set it on the counter. A dull ache spread across her chest, Kelli's statement setting heavily on her heart. Friend.

  Paul's words gouged more deeply.

  “Do you hang out with her?” Rachel asked.

  “Not a lot. I’ve gone to a few Sunday night singings before, but it’s not really my thing. She invites me all the time though.”

  Rachel crossed her arms, her tasks forgotten. “What’s a Sunday night singing?”

  “It’s like a party. They eat, play games, and hang out at each other’s farms.”

  “Really? Isn’t it like against a rule or something to be friends with us?” That’s what she'd hoped. It would make her feel better. She was already in danger of caring too much what Paul Fischer thought. Especially after the way he carried her out of the sun, the way he looked at her when she'd opened her eyes, the way he sat with her through his lunch break.

  “No, they’re really nice. They just live different lifestyles than us.”

  “Oh.” She paused, taking a deep breath, the ache cutting deeper. A strange desire to explore the lives of the Amish and find out what made them so different filled her. “Hey, if they invite you this week and you go, could I tag along? I’ve been stuck in the house all week.” Kelli could never find out the real reason she asked. No one could.

  Kelli moved toward the door. “Why wait for an invitation?”

  “You're going to ask?” With her greatest effort, Rachel kept her voice even.

  “Why not?”

  Her smile transformed into a troubled frown. “And that would be fine?”

  “I guess we'll find out.”

  “Okay. Here goes.” Her chest beat erratically as she walked toward the girls' table, Kelli following behind.

  They exchanged how-do-you-dos before Kelli asked the dreaded question. “Are you guys having a singing this Sunday?”

  Rachel shoved her hands in her pockets and glanced at the other girls spaced around the table, her brain racing ahead. What if they said no?

  “Jah, you coming?”

  “Sure.” Kelli nudged Rachel in the elbow as she glanced at the dark-haired girl sitting in the far corner. “This is my friend Rachel. She’s new to town, and I wanted to bring her along. If that’s okay?”

  “Jah, Rachel. Please come.” The others nodded, their smiles widening.

  “I would love to. Thank you.” Rachel escaped to the kitchen, to take a deep vital breath.

  Would Paul change his mind once he saw her with his friends?

  Later that evening, Rachel poured scented bubbles into the gushing flow of bath water. After lighting a candle, she climbed into the warm, silky haven. She'd been eager to make it home before three, but reached her house disappointed. Paul’s buggy wasn’t parked in the yard, and neither was Mom’s car. Her iPod playlist hummed in the background, and the familiar constant ache weaved through the recesses of her heart. T
he image of Paul's protective concern when she'd fainted burned in her memory. Had she imagined the entire thing?

  No, it was real.

  She closed her eyes against the betrayal of longing, blocking from her mind the way he took her breath, the way his blue eyes turned her insides to mush. She inhaled the scent of lavender, pushing her fingers through the foaming moisture, thinking about the spell Paul had cast over her. It was unyielding, unbreakable.

  An hour later, she sat on the front porch cool from staying in the bath long after the water chilled to the same temperature as the air. She soaked in the night music. Crickets chattering, horse and buggy's passing by, wind stirring the tree's leaves. How would Daddy like Paul? She pictured her dad standing across from her on the softball field. Hands on his legs, his eyes trained directly on her. He had a rare smile, the kind that gave you the feeling he believed in you. It conveyed confidence that love in its truest form lay beneath the surface. She missed him.

  Oh, how she wished he were here to give her some man advice. Laughter filled her soul. Yeah, that wouldn't go very well. He'd made it clear that only a remarkable man would be good enough for his little girl.

  The cool evening breeze forced her inside, and she found her mom sitting at the kitchen table working on bills.

  Rachel poured a glass of lemonade. “How was your day?”

  “Pretty good. How about yours?”

  “It was okay, nothing too exciting.” Rachel paused, the fluttery empty feeling in the pit of her stomach deepening. “Did Paul take the day off?”

  Mom kept her eyes on her checkbook. “Yes, he asked for a few days off.”

  Rachel swallowed a mouthful of liquid, forcing herself not to react. “Really, for how long?”

  “He didn’t say, only that he would be gone a few days.”

  Gone? “Is he going out of town? When will he be back?”

  “I don’t know.”

  What if he decided to leave and never came back? What if she never saw him again?

  13

  Early the next morning, a loud crash woke Rachel. She blinked several times, trying to piece together what was happening. She eased herself into a sitting position and counted off the days.

  Friday.

  Paul? Rachel tossed back the covers, moved to the window, and gently adjusted the blind. His buggy wasn't there.

  Rachel dressed and wandered downstairs.

  Sitting in the middle of the floor, Mom was unpacking the last of their boxes, officially making this home. Rachel grabbed some breakfast before taking her own box to unload.

  “I had a nice visit with your Aunt Barbara. Her little Katelyn is precious.”

  Rachel smiled easily. “How old is she now?”

  “Four.”

  “She was only a baby when they last visited. Was Tanner there?”

  “No, but Barbara insists your cousin can’t wait to see you again. She’s planning to bring him by one day, if she can ever get him settled with all his college preparations. Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I know school is a sore subject with you.”

  “It’s okay,” she said too quickly, but repeated her response, more slowly to balance her emotions. “It’s okay, really.”

  “I don’t know why it’s taken so long to go through this stuff.”

  “I do. It’s our whole life.” She fiddled with a box filled with Dad's things, filled with memories. His ties, his baseball trophies, his smell.

  Mom lifted the container from the floor. “Maybe we should put this one away for now.” Her voice lowered and raw emotions swept across her face in slow motion, starting with disappointment, then anger, and ending with devastation. She stood and disappeared down the hall.

  A sudden weakness washed over Rachel. Things had been better, more normal than at home. But now, the certainty edged its way to her core. Deep down, Mom still blamed her.

  Another box overflowing with trophies caught her eye, and she leaned against the wall. The heaves fighting to escape ripped through her middle as silent tears tumbled down her cheeks, dropping in splashes on Paul's hardwood floor.

  Mom returned and Rachel looked off into the distance to hide her tears, now drying and cold. Leaving behind a trail of salty stickiness, stinging with the realization that Daddy was never coming back.

  “That’s enough organizing for one day. Why don’t we start a fresh pot of coffee, and you can tell me all about your job and new friend, Kelli.”

  Mom often seemed to ignore the pain by pushing it away and pretending things were normal. Yet it was obvious. The pain suffocated her. Daddy had been gone a year, but a day didn’t go by there weren't tears in her mother’s eyes. Rachel went along with the charade. She had no choice, or she would drown in her own grief, her own guilt.

  “We have plans Sunday night.” Her thoughts raced ahead to the anticipated time, and an unexpected shiver crawled up her spine.

  “That’s wonderful, honey. I’m so glad you like your job and that you’ve made a friend.”

  She bit her lip. “Me too.”

  Mid-Sunday afternoon, Kelli pulled into the drive, and Rachel ran out to meet her. She hoped the maxi dress she'd chosen would be appropriate for their party.

  Jittery trembles filled every muscle as each second passed. This is a bad idea.

  Moments later, Kelli parked her car in an Amish yard, right beside the barn. The large white house, twice the size of theirs, had no shutters. The front porch stretched from one end of the house to the other. A swing hung on one side, and three wooden rockers took up the space on the other.

  “Come on and I’ll introduce you to some of the other girls.”

  Twenty buggies parked along the path and onto the lawn. Rachel lingered by the car looking through the crowd at the Amish friends gathered together near the back door.

  I shouldn’t be here. What if my coming makes Paul furious?

  Kelli linked their arms. Rachel staggered before grasping her hand. “Kel…” Before she finished telling her she'd changed her mind, several Amish girls met them at the car.

  Belinda took Rachel’s free hand. “Danki, for coming.”

  Others introduced themselves and Rachel recognized a few from the restaurant. The girls were so welcoming. They hugged both her and Kelli and took their hands and then guided them toward the crowd. Rachel blew out a breath as her stiff shoulders slackened.

  I can’t leave now, that would be rude.

  Paul wasn’t among the Amish men and disappointment assaulted her like a mallet. Maybe he was late. The sounds of arriving buggies kept her neck swiveling to inspect the new arrivals. Thirty minutes later, she gave up. He wasn't coming.

  Kelli fit in easily. The Amish had friends with outsiders. They were pleasant and inclusive, which meant Paul simply didn’t want to be hers. The sharp jab of regret slowly bled through her veins strengthening her determination. She would have that talk with Paul as soon as he showed up to finish their house. And she would get her answer once and for all.

  A volleyball game started up on the farm’s large yard and Kelli joined in. Rachel stood to the side next to the incredibly green and tall cornfield. She listened. No horns blaring, no speeding cars, just the sound of wind rustling through the stalks and laughter that seemed to stretch for miles. Cows grazed in the pasture and chickens wobbled through the yard, bobbing their heads with each step. Horses neighed, swatting flies with their tails, and a dog barked as he chased a few audacious birds. Dust whirled around the player's feet as they trailed the ball. Kelli's team was winning.

  One of the girls sauntered across the yard toward Rachel. She carried the true image of an Amish woman. Her dark hair tucked under a bonnet, bobby pins sparkling against the late afternoon sun. The girl's light blue dress hung just above her ankles. “Rachel, I have baby kittens in the barn. You want to see, jah?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  Inside the barn, the strong aroma of manure about knocked her back. She coughed, clearing her lungs.

  “Ach, it takes getti
ng used to, jah?” She gave her the kind of smile that someone would give their sister, their friend. Even though they were from different worlds, this girl seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her better.

  “I’ve never been to a farm before.”

  “Come see the bobblin. Mamm will only let me keep one.”

  The small balls of fur inched closer to the orange and white mama cat sprawled out on a pile of hay. Their soft meows echoed through the wooden stalls.

  “Aw, they’re adorable.”

  The girl introduced Rachel to the rest of their animals before they left the barn.

  As the sun set, everyone gathered inside another barn, and a young man lit a few lanterns. A smile crept across her face as she remembered from her novel they didn't use electricity.

  The guys and girls stayed separated for the most part. Occasionally a couple would break away from the group, but they distanced themselves in a way. The parties back home were nothing like this.

  Only one girl didn’t seem to want to be there. And every dark glance in her direction told her she didn't want Rachel there either. What if she was Paul’s girlfriend?

  How would Paul feel about her being here, surrounded by his people, his friends? And why wasn’t he here?

  Kelli bounded toward them, her cheeks red from exertion. “Rachel, they’re getting ready to sing. Belinda wants us to sit next to her.”

  A few girls stood one by one, each singing a solo. Some of the guys took a turn. Then the whole group sang together. Rachel hummed along to a few of the songs and closed her eyes reveling in the praise and worship.

  It took her a second to realize someone was calling her name. A young man stood across the room, his gaze fixed on her. “Do you sing?”

  She pointed a finger at her chest. “Me?”

  “Jah.” His smile was understanding. He had put her on the spot, and he knew it.

  A wide smile stretched across her lips as she moved toward the front. “Yes, I love to sing. Is it okay if I share a song?” She didn't look at any one person, but searched the crowd of faces seated before her.