Lorie's Heart (9 page)

“Here you go.” The young girl who had seated them slid their plates off the tray and onto the table in front of them. “Can I get you anything else?”

“I think we're good for now,” Zach said, ready for her to be gone so he could see Lorie again.

She nodded her head. “I'll be back in a bit with some more tea.”

“She's Amish,” Cameron said again once they were alone.

“She's beautiful.”

“How can you tell? She's got on all that . . .” He waved a hand around instead of finishing.

“You can't see past all that?” Zach shook his head. “Never mind. I'm glad you can't see it.”

“Chicken's good though,” Cameron said around a mouthful. “Really good.”

Zach scooped up his own bite. The food was better than really good. It was the best he'd had in a long time.

He glanced back to the waitress station, but Lorie was gone. So much for his big plans to have another chance to talk to her. He didn't understand this obsession he had with her. It was almost as if the whole thing was out of his control. He just had to see her one more time.

“You've seen her. Now what?”

“Just eat,” Zach grumbled. He glanced back to the waitress station. Lorie had appeared again and was heading their way with a pitcher of tea in one hand and one of water in the other. “How do I look?” he asked as she wound her way through the tables filling glasses as she drew closer to them. “I don't have sauce on my chin or anything, do I?”

Cameron grinned, tossing down his napkin with a shake of his head. “Man, do you have it bad.”

Before he could even push his hair off his forehead and back into place or take one last swipe at any lingering sauce, Lorie was standing beside their table.

“Hi,” she said. Her voice held a breathless quality.

“Hi,” he returned.

She nodded toward his tea glass.

He pushed it closer to her.

“I didn't expect to see you,” she said, her chin tucked close to her chest. Zach couldn't decide if she was being demure or if she was trying to keep everyone around from seeing the blush that rose to her cheeks.

“Obviously.” This from Cameron.

She turned toward him as if she had just then realized he was there.

He gave her a wave.

“Sorry.” Zach sat back in his seat. “Lorie, this is my friend Cameron. Cameron, Lorie.”

“It's
gut
to meet you.” She dipped her chin in his direction, then filled his tea glass as well.

“I was hoping that you would come back to the center and visit with Miss Betty.”

Her mouth twisted into a small frown. “I can't. I don't want to confuse her. I told you I would send the letters back when I'd finished reading them.”

“This isn't about the letters, and I don't think you confuse her any more than brushing her teeth or making balsa wood airplanes do.”

“I have work to do here at the restaurant.”

“Surely you get a day off.”

“It's too far.”

“I'll come get you.” His words stepped all over hers, and he exhaled, trying to catch his breath and slow himself. “I'm sorry. I just think this is important.”

She bit her lip and cast a quick look over her shoulder. Zach had the strangest feeling that she was checking to see where her family members were in relation to them. “I'm off next Thursday.”

A ray of sunshine burst in his chest. “Great. Tell me what time and where you live, and I'll come by and get you.”

She shook her head. “Out on Colton Road, there is a four-way stop with a little shack off to one side. I'll be there at ten.” She gave him quick directions on how to get there. “Is that okay?”

Zach smiled. “That's perfect.”

“How about we have a pond day on Thursday?” Jonah asked Sunday afternoon after the church service. The young people had all gathered to play softball and socialize.

“Th-Thursday?” Lorie jerked her attention in his direction. They were seated on the ground waiting on their turn to either bat or go back out in the field. Lorie loved playing softball on Sunday afternoons though today the sun seemed especially brutal as it seared through her black dress.

“
Jah.
My family is taking the day to go down to the pond, have a picnic, and just relax for the day.”

“On a weekday?” she squeaked.

Jonah frowned. “What's wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head.

“So you'll come?”

“I can't. I already made other plans.”
Please don't ask me what they are.

“What are they?”

Lorie's heart sank into her stomach, which churned and flipped. She opened her mouth to respond, but there was no lie waiting to cover her planned trip to Tulsa. “I . . . I . . .”

“Hey, Jonah,” Danny Fitch called from home plate. “You're up.”

Thank goodness.

“I'm coming,” Jonah called in return. He pushed to his feet and dusted off the seat of his pants. For a moment she was afraid he was going to demand an answer before his turn at bat.

Then he chose his bat and sauntered toward the thick piece of cardboard that served as home plate.

Lorie breathed a sigh of relief. With any luck, Jonah would forget all about his question, and she wouldn't have to come up with a plausible excuse as to why she was planning a trip to see her grandmother with an
Englischer
who made her heart pound in her chest and her mouth grow dry.

Lorie clutched the canvas bag containing her
Englisch
clothes to her chest and willed her heart to beat a little slower. She had no idea what kind of car Zach drove. And she couldn't risk being seen waiting for him. She peeked out the door of the old phone shanty, but there was no one around. It had to be getting close to ten, but she wasn't sure how close. She took a calming breath. He'd be here soon.

She had finally told Jonah that she had promised her day off to Caroline. She just hoped that no one asked Caroline about it. She didn't want her friend to lie for her. But she felt such an urgency to return to Tulsa at least one more time. She wanted to see Betty again. She remembered the clear look in her eyes when she'd told Lorie that her father had left letters. Lorie had read some of them, though they were filled with everyday occurrences like adding a new item to the restaurant menu and even all the time he spent securing the loan to open the restaurant.

Of the ten or so letters she had found the time to read, only the first one contained any information on her father, and even then, it only gave her more questions. What had her father done for her own good? And did it have anything to do with the lies he'd told everyone else?

Only one person had the answers. That was why Lorie agreed to meet Zach again. It had nothing to do with the sweet dimples he had on either side of his mouth or that squared-off chin and sky-blue eyes.

In reality, she wasn't even convincing herself, but it was better than facing the truth. She wanted to get to know Zach a little better. What had he been doing at the living center? Had he come all the way to Wells Landing just to see her?

Maybe it was Zach, or maybe it was all the other questions she had floating around inside. Maybe after all was said and done, she would be no nearer the truth than she was right now. But she had to try. Something in her wouldn't let it go. If the truth was out there, she had to find it.

With or without Zach.

She peered out the phone shanty door again. A small gray car inched along the road, driving no faster than a buggy. She'd recognize that dark head anywhere. Her heart gave another hard pound as she stepped from the small shack and waved.

He returned it and pulled to the side of the road. “Hi,” he said, getting out of the car though leaving it running. He walked around the car and opened the door for her.

“Hi.” Lorie tamped down the thrill that ran through her. No one had ever opened a car door for her. Okay, so that wasn't saying much. But no one had ever opened a buggy door for her either. Didn't the
Englisch
say that was the mark of a gentleman? She smiled at Zach and slid into the car.

“I wasn't sure what to expect.” He climbed into the driver's side and gave her another smile.

“Me either.” She glanced down to the bag she held in her lap. Her fingers twisted the fabric as she ducked her head.

He set the car into gear and then headed down the road. “Do you want to stop somewhere and change clothes? I mean, I assume that's what's in your bag.”

“
Jah.
Yes. Maybe a gas station or something.”

“I know just the place.” He smiled, and her heart soared a bit.

This was bad. No matter how handsome he was—or sweet or good with her grandmother—the truth would never change: she was Amish, and he was
Englisch.

“Zach,” she started, completely unsure of how to say what needed to be said. How could she ask what she needed to know? “Is this a date?”

“Do you want it to be a date?”

What did she want? She managed to keep her shoulders from shrugging. She didn't know what she wanted. She hadn't given it any thought beyond wanting the answers to the questions that kept rising to the surface.

What was she thinking? This couldn't be a date. Soon she would finish her baptism classes and next year, maybe even in the fall, she and Jonah would get married like they had always talked about.

“I'm engaged.” She said the words, but couldn't bring herself to look at Zach.

“Okay.”

She couldn't tell how he was feeling from the one word, so she chanced a glance in his direction. He looked no different than he had before she had spoken. So she turned her attention back to the front. They were on the highway now, heading toward Tulsa.

“Betty's been asking about you,” Zach finally said with a small shrug. “I'm just trying to help.”

“I am thankful.”

“I'm not gonna lie.” He checked the mirrors and changed lanes. “I find you . . . intriguing.”

She shook her head. “It's the prayer
kapp.
” She reached up and pulled the pins that held it in place.

“I'm not sure I understand.”

“
Englisch
guys see it as sort of a challenge.”

He sent a perplexed look in her direction. “I don't know what you mean.”

She thought about it a minute, trying to find the right words for her response. She had seen it so many times. An Amish girl falling in love with an
Englisch
guy. He promised the moon, then didn't deliver, leaving the poor
maedel
heartbroken and alone. She couldn't have that happen to her. And it wasn't going to. She had a future all lined out. All this with her father, it was nothing more than a detour to her well-set plans. “
Englisch
boys . . .” she tried again.

“Never mind. I think I understand.” He took the exit off the highway and turned onto the main street before finishing. “You're getting married. I get it. And you think I just want—” He broke off before finishing and for that she was grateful. She couldn't imagine saying something like that out loud. Apparently he felt the same.

Instead of speaking, he pulled into a gas station and cut the engine. “They have a public restroom. You can go change.”

She hesitated.

“I'll wait here. Okay?”

She nodded, then grabbed her bag and headed into the brightly lit store. People milled around, getting food and drinks, buying gas, and otherwise going about their daily lives.

Lorie hustled into the restroom and into one of the many bathroom stalls. She still held her prayer
kapp
in her hands. She hated just placing it in the bag to get crushed so she hung it on the back of the bathroom door while she stripped out of her Amish clothes and quickly pulled on the
Englisch
clothes she had bought with Luke.

They felt the same as they had that day, strange and wonderful, a little mischievous and somehow like she had been missing something for such a long time.

She folded her
frack
and apron as neatly as she could and tucked them back into the canvas bag. Then she removed her clunky black walking shoes and slipped into the cute leopard-print flats she'd picked out at the secondhand store.

She stepped from the stall and stood in front of the mirror, for the first time getting a good look at the transformation the clothes brought to her. She felt different. She looked different, but in her eyes, she was the same. Or maybe it was because from the neck up she still looked Plain. Well, Plain minus the prayer
kapp.

Pulling the pins from her hair, she wished she'd thought to bring a brush. She shook out the long tresses.

“Wow,” the girl standing next to her at the line of sinks exclaimed. “Your hair is so long.”

“I s'pose.” Lorie hadn't thought about it all that much. Hair simply was. The Amish didn't cut it so everyone she knew had long hair, though it was always put up, wound into a bun and tucked under a prayer
kapp.

“I wish my hair was that long.” She wistfully stared at the ends of Lorie's hair.

“All you have to do is not cut it.”

“That's easier said than done.” The girl turned back to the mirror and swiped some shiny stuff on her lips.

Lorie had never used anything other than lip balm, but this was glossy and smelled like peaches. “You go in for a trim, and they cut three inches off. Dead ends, they always say. Whatever.” She rolled her eyes.

Dead ends? Lorie had no idea what she was talking about. She pulled up the ends of her hair. It was uneven at best, a little like the mane of a horse. But not bad. She looked back to the young girl's sleek brown hair. It came to just below her shoulders but was smooth and even. Suddenly, even despite the coveted length, Lorie wished her hair was a bit more polished. Maybe she should get a trim, as the girl called it.

What was she saying? She wasn't cutting her hair. Her
mamm
would have a fit. All her life, she had been told time and time again: a woman's hair was her glory and all glory was to God. How could she give the glory to God if it was lying on the floor of some hair salon?

She wound her hair back into a knot at the nape of her neck though this time, like the time before, she released her middle part. The result was a little less Amish for sure.

It wasn't like she was leaving the Amish. She was visiting her grandmother and nothing more. Cutting her hair was completely out of the question.

She grabbed the handles of her bag and started for the door.

“It was nice talking to you,” the girl said, pausing in her efforts of powdering her cheeks to catch Lorie's attention in the mirror.

Lorie nodded her head, but kept her feet moving. “
Jah,
” she said. “You, too.” Though more than anything, she found the conversation strangely unsettling.

As promised, Zach was waiting in the car when she stepped out of the store. She tried not to notice how his eyes lit up when he spotted her. Or the smile that spread across his face. Why did he have to be so cute? Or maybe the question was, why did he have to be so
Englisch?

“Listen,” he said as she slid into the passenger's seat. “I understand. Really. And I totally get it. I'm not ready for anything serious either. I just graduated from college.” He shook his head. “I've got to find a job. Move out of my mother's house.”

As Lorie watched him, the corners of his mouth turned down, and he got the same look on his face as her fun-loving father had whenever he paid the restaurant bills.

He started the car and pulled it onto the busy Tulsa street. Lorie grabbed the door handle as another car pulled up beside them too quickly. Just another reason why she could never make it in the
Englisch
world. The cars moved way too fast for her tastes. How did her father do it?

“It's okay,” she said in return, talking as much to herself as she was to him. “It's just . . .” She tried to find the words, but failed. “Complicated,” she finally finished.

“It always is.”

They drove in silence for several minutes before he spoke again.

“Why did you have me pick you up in the middle of nowhere?”

How did she answer that? “I'm not sure my
mamm
would approve of me coming to Tulsa. And then there are my baptism classes.”

He pulled into a parking space in the Sundale parking lot, then turned toward her. “Classes? What does that mean exactly?”

“All Amish go through instruction before they can join the church.”

“And that's what you're doing now?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds like a good thing. It is, right?”

“Of course. It's just that . . .” She bit her lip. “Well, the district, they watch the youth very closely. I can't mess up.”

“Mess up?”

“Being seen sneaking off to Tulsa with an
Englisch bu
would surely count as messing up.”

“But you came anyway.”

“You said my grandmother asked about me.”

He nodded, but swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“How could I not come to see her?”

He nodded. “So baptism classes, then what?”

“I join the church. Then Jonah and I can get married.”

“I see.”

She wilted with relief. She liked Zach and he was so handsome, but her place was with her family. In Wells Landing. “I'm so glad.”

He nodded again, but didn't speak.

“Are we going in?” She nodded toward the big glass doors.

“Yeah, sure.” He stirred as if he'd been deep in thought. Then he opened his car door and got out, immediately coming around to open hers. “So does this change everything?” he asked, as she stood there in the open car door so close to him she could smell the shampoo he'd used to wash his hair and the aftershave he'd put on that morning. The effect was nearly irresistible. Or maybe that was just Zach.

“This is all it has ever been,” she said, wondering how many more lies she would tell before this day was through.

“Can we be friends?” he asked, closing the door behind her with a small thud. He took her elbow to lead her toward the living center, but apparently thought better of the decision and released her. She immediately missed his touch, though she knew it was for the best.

“Friends . . .” She smiled at him. “Thanks, Zach with an
h.
I'd like that very much.”

 

 

He had only wanted to see her again. He hadn't thought about the consequences, how it would affect her. He'd only thought of her bottomless brown eyes and getting to know her better.

Now he felt lower than dirt. Man, did she have guys pegged. Well, English guys anyway. He had to wonder if he fell in that category. Had to be or she wouldn't have said anything to him. But if he was English what did that make Mick Jagger?