Leah's Choice (16 page)

“I can’t imagine all the places you’ve been, all the things you’ve seen,” she said. “Our life in Seven Poplars…it must seem very small to you.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not at all. I think…I think that it must be wonderful to feel that God has directed you to live at a slower pace. Money or education can’t buy the peace and sense of purpose I see among your people. It must be very satisfying and…” He seemed to search for the right words. “Full of grace.”

“But not right for you.”

He was quiet for a second, as if he was seriously considering her words. She liked that about Daniel.

“No. I’m not a farmer. I don’t feel this pull of the land that I see in others.”

“But you find that sense of grace in what you do? In doing God’s work in the missions?”

“I try,” he admitted. Then he smiled. “Yes, I do. I don’t know what tomorrow or the next day will bring, but I believe that if I listen, I’ll hear what’s right for me. I’ll try to do it.” He shrugged. “It’s all we can do, isn’t it? Follow our hearts and try to do our best?”

“Yes,” she said. “Try to do our best every day.”
And maybe,
she thought,
it was all right to not know what tomorrow would bring…as long as you kept listening for His voice in your heart.

* * *

By ten o’clock, the room that served as both cafeteria and gym to the school was overflowing with students, volunteers and customers. Daniel and Leah had been assigned to the refreshment stand and kitchen, and Leah quickly became the short-order cook when Daniel’s methods resulted in a lot of high flames and smoke. Still, they worked well together and quickly figured out a system to serve up hot dogs, hamburgers, scrapple sandwiches, Dutch fried bread, cheesy fries and lemonade without getting in each other’s way.

Tables offering used books, toys and baby clothes lined the walls. There were baked goods, plants and crafts for sale as well as a display of local honey and beeswax candles. Jams and jellies vied for space amid jars of homemade spaghetti sauce and a table of birdhouses and feeders. Despite the chaos, the atmosphere in the spacious room was light and airy, with everyone clearly having a good time. Laughing children darted from table to table, and slipped quietly in and out of the adjacent room where a group of high school girls were showing cartoons depicting Bible stories.

Outside, on the playground, there were games, pony rides and a petting zoo. Leah had seen the animals amid the preparations when she and Daniel had arrived. At that point, she wished that she’d brought Susanna with her. Her little sister would have loved it. Susanna had a special fascination with chicks, ducks and other farm animals and the fair atmosphere would have delighted her. But today, selfishly, Leah hadn’t wanted to bring her sister. She’d wanted to spend the day with Daniel. She promised herself that she’d do something special with Susanna next week to make it up to her, but today was hers alone.

Later, when the lunchtime rush had passed, two of the teachers took Daniel and her places and Leah went to help sell fresh herbs while Daniel taught a class in CPR. The potted mint and basil and chives went quickly, and soon Leah was down to several flats of cilantro and a planter of rosemary and oregano. Then Daniel’s uncle bought those for his wife, and Leah was left to sweep the empty area. Someone had questions about making a quilt, and she was soon involved in a lively discussion with two young, married Mennonite women, one with a small baby. Leah ended up rocking the baby to sleep while one of the teachers showed the mother a new stitch. By the time Daniel came to fetch her, Leah felt that she had made three new friends.

“I was wondering,” Daniel said as they walked back to the truck together. “Would you like to go to the beach with me?”

“To the beach?” The bright sunshine had given way to clouds, and soon it would be getting dark. The breeze from the east was cool, and the warmth of the spring day had fled.

“The boardwalk, actually. In Rehoboth. Not that much will be open, but I love the ocean. We could just walk and look at the water and maybe find a place to get a slice of pizza. If you like pizza, that is?”

She laughed. “I love the ocean, and I love pizza. I keep telling Mam we should buy one of those pizza stones. Rebecca and I buy pizza for lunch whenever we go to Spence’s and we make our own at home. I’d like to go with you, Daniel…very much, but…”

“But?”

“Remember, this isn’t a date—not a real one.”

“Well, it could just be two friends looking at the ocean and sharing pizza,” he teased.

“Exactly.”

And that’s what they did. The wind off the water was cool, so Daniel found a jacket of his behind the seat and he lent it to her to throw over her shoulders. They bought a pepperoni pizza with black olives and extra cheese, which Leah insisted on chipping in for, and an extra-large cup of root beer. They found a bench on the boardwalk, and sat and talked until the sun went down, without ever running out of things to say.

They talked about everything, about Ohio and Daniel’s cousins and the fun Leah had had at the State Fair with them last summer, about Spanish food, and the best vegetables to put on pizza and how Noah had managed to stow enough grain and hay on the ark to feed all the animals during the Great Flood. Daniel told her about his family and how his father had taught him to juggle rubber balls when he was eight, and Leah told him about sometimes fasting with her family on Thanksgiving Day.

And, finally, when it was growing really dark, neither could put off that it was time to head back to Kent County and home before Leah’s mother began to worry about her. “When can I see you again?” Daniel asked as they walked back to where his truck was parked. “Tomorrow?”

“Not tomorrow. Tomorrow is church at Aunt Martha and Uncle Reuben’s.”

“Maybe I could come,” he suggested.

She shook her head. “Amish only. Singing and prayers and preaching. Five or six hours, maybe more, but definitely no outsiders.”

“Is that what I am? An outsider?” He walked beside her, tall and slim and just a little awkward in the fading light. “Because I don’t want to be. Not with you.”

Not sure what to say, she went on about church. “It’s not bad, even though it sounds like a tedious day.” She thought for a moment. “It’s wonderful, actually. I love church, even when Uncle Reuben forgets pieces of his sermon and hunts for his notes. The singing is like nothing else—we sing in old German. It makes me feel so…so much a part of something special. I love to look around the house and see my friends and neighbors and relatives, babies sleeping, little children playing with their rag dolls, everyone together, wrapped in God’s loving arms.” She sighed. “It makes me feel so safe.”

“I understand exactly what you mean. That’s how I feel whenever my family gets together, after Bible School or a holiday dinner.” He paused and then said softly. “I miss them, Mom and Dad, and my brothers and sisters. Growing up in another country, I think you get really close to your family. Most of them are up in Canada now. I hope I’ll get to see them before I go to my next assignment.”

“You couldn’t have gone there with them?”

“I suppose I could have, if I’d asked. But they didn’t need a nurse, and there are other places where the people have no available medical care. It only seems fair that I go where I can do the most good.”

She nodded. She didn’t want to think about him going away and never seeing him again, but she’d known all along that Daniel was only here for a short time. There was no way they could continue their friendship after he left Delaware, not really. “And after the worship service, we have a communal meal,” she continued. “The host is supposed to feed everyone, but most families bring food to share.”

“It sounds like a good time,” he agreed.

“It is. I always feel so clean afterwards, as though I left all my troubles on the floor by my bench.”

“I’m sorry I can’t come, then,” he said.

“Me, too.”

“You would be welcome at a Mennonite church service.”

She nodded, actually saddened by the idea that she couldn’t invite him to church. “It just isn’t our way, Daniel. We are a people apart.”

“I wish you weren’t,” he said. “Or I wish there were some way we could bring both our faiths together, so that everyone would understand how much alike we really are.”

“There
is
something you would be welcome at,” she said. “On Wednesday evening, the Gleaners are going to repair a chicken house and fence in the poultry yard for a family. Anyone can go. Rebecca and Miriam and Susanna and I are going to whitewash the chicken house and help with refreshments. Samuel’s going to lend his team, and Charley’s going to drive us in a straw wagon. If you’d like to come, we can always use an extra pair of hands.”

“A hay ride and a chicken fence.” Daniel laughed. “Sounds like fun.”

“Then it’s settled.” They were walking on the sidewalk now, almost to the truck. “Mam is hosting the Gleaners for a haystack supper at five. Come and eat with us. There will be so many people here, no one will notice one extra Mennonite missionary.”

“I’ve never eaten a haystack before, but you can count on me to try anything.”

She laughed. “You’ll like it, I promise. It has onions, but no chilies, and definitely no figs.”

“And I suppose this isn’t a date you’re inviting me on, even though it is a hayride?”

“
Ne,
Daniel,” she teased. “Not a date, and not even a hayride. Straw is a lot less prickly when it gets down the back of your neck.”

He opened his arms wide. “In that case, how can I refuse?”

Chapter Thirteen

L
eah shivered with anticipation as she saw Daniel turn his truck into the school driveway and get out. The swings, where she usually waited for him, were half-hidden by the trees and the corner of the schoolhouse. She could see him, but he couldn’t see her, and it gave her a secret thrill to watch him walk toward her through the tall grass.

It was mid-May, and the Seven Poplars Amish School had closed for the summer. In the past few weeks, since the children no longer came every day, the weeds had begun to take over the playground and creep up the side of the neat white building. She’d have to remember to mention to Mam that the grass needed cutting, if she could think of some way to bring it up without admitting that she’d been meeting Daniel here. The school had a three-rail fence around it. Maybe Irwin could lead one or two of the heifers over so that they could crop the grass.

“Leah?” Daniel called. “Are you here?”

“I’m here, Daniel,” she answered. Just saying his name made her happy. Daniel made her happy. Despite the unsuitability of their friendship, she didn’t want to think about not seeing him…about what it had been like before she’d known Daniel. She didn’t want to think about him going away.

Leah smiled and waved. She was seated on one of the swings, and now she gave herself a small push with her feet. She wanted to leap off the swing and run into his arms. She wanted to hug him tightly, but, of course, she wouldn’t. As long as they weren’t doing anything to be ashamed of, as long as her behavior was properly
Plain
, she didn’t have to feel guilty for seeing him secretly. Did she?

Daniel stopped directly in front of her. “We need to talk,” he said.

She looked up at him and her stomach clenched. Something was wrong. Gooseflesh rose on the back of her neck. “What is it?” she asked.

He reached out and caught hold of the ropes. The swing stopped and she half rose and then sat down hard on the seat. The schoolyard was suddenly still. In the distance, she could hear peepers and the cooing of a mourning dove. It was a sad sound, and she felt a sudden wash of apprehension. Was this the moment when everything changed between them? Moisture clouded her vision.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s been a couple of weeks. It’s time to have this out, Leah,” he said. Daniel’s tone was firm. “We’ve been avoiding it too long.”

She blinked away the tears.
No,
she thought.
I don’t want to lose him.

His voice grew husky. “We can’t keep doing this, Leah,” he said, taking the swing next to her. “You know we can’t. It’s not honest.”

She twisted so that she could look into his eyes. “What’s not honest? Us seeing each other? Being friends?”

“We’re more than friends. We both know that.” He took a deep breath. “I need to talk to your mother, to tell her that we’re serious. It’s time, Leah.”

He was right. She knew he was right, but she still wasn’t ready. She gripped the ropes harder. The swing wasn’t moving, but she felt as if the ground was far away and she might fall off, and keep on falling. “I never meant to be dishonest,” she said. The tight prickling sensation behind her eyes grew stronger and she was afraid that she was going to burst into tears and shame herself.

For the past few weeks, they’d been seeing each other several times a week. She’d kept up the pretense, insisting that they weren’t dating, and maybe they hadn’t been, at first. But they were now. By Amish standards, Mennonite standards and probably even English standards. And she couldn’t bear for it to end.

“Say it,” he said quietly. “We’re dating.”

She took a breath, but she didn’t have enough air. She felt dizzy. The ground was still so far beneath her feet, and the warm May twilight was taking on a damp chill fast.

“You have to admit it, Leah. To me and to yourself.”

She nodded. “Yes,” she agreed. “We’re dating.”

“All right.” Some of the lines smoothed around his eyes and he gave her the hint of a smile. “So, if we’re dating…if we’re
walking out together,
then it’s time we told someone. I want to make my intentions clear to your mother and to my aunt and uncle.”

She nibbled at her bottom lip.

“You know I’m right,” he said.

“It’s not easy…what you’re asking me to do,” she murmured.

“But we can’t go on like this.” He reached across the distance between them and took her hand in his. “I’ve tried to reason this out. I’ve tried to be logical, but all I can think of is how much I care about you and how inappropriate this is.”