Plain Fear: Forgiven: A Novel (16 page)

Sneaking out was not as difficult as sneaking in, which was why Samuel took extra caution as he approached Levi and Hannah’s house.

The dark sky was clear, bright with stars and a smiling moon. Samuel parked his motorcycle near the barn. Gentle stirrings of sleepy animals gave the impression all was well. No lights shone in the house or around the green shades covering the windows.

Entering through the kitchen’s side door, he removed his jacket and placed it on a wall hook. He sniffed, detecting if there was any of those fried pies still around. The scent of grease, butter, and warm peaches lingered. As his eyes adjusted to the dark kitchen, he searched the counters and found a plate covered by a cloth. Beneath, a handful of peach pies hid.

“Hungry?” the voice came out of the dark behind him.

Samuel dropped the pie, grabbed the stake from his belt, and swung around. The speed of his move would have impressed Roberto. He blinked at the shape.

“I won’t stand between you and a fried pie.” A bubble of laughter infused Naomi’s voice. “I promise.”

“Oh. Uh.” He straightened, dropping his hand and the stake to his side and maneuvering it behind his back. “Sorry. You, uh, startled me.”

“I should be the one to apologize.” Her voice remained light as a feathery touch.

“You’re here late again.”

“Gabriel. He was fussy.”

“I can take you home.” He moved toward the door, but realized she wasn’t following. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not in a hurry.”

What
did
she
mean? Did she want to talk?
If she had been
English
, then he might have thought she was implying something untoward. But Naomi wasn’t like that.

“Go ahead,” she said, “and have a pie or two. Would you like some milk to go with them?”

He laughed, but abruptly stopped, glancing in the direction of Levi and Hannah’s room. The laughter acted like a pressure valve, releasing the sudden tightness in his abdomen. “Let’s sit outside. I’ll grab the pies.”

“And I’ll get the milk.”

A few minutes later, they settled on the back steps, a plate of pies between them, along with two glasses of cold milk. The night air felt warm, and a delicate breeze ruffled the wisps of hair dancing free around Naomi’s face. She was a pretty girl, sweet and guileless, and he felt somewhat protective of her, especially in light of the earlier conversation with his friends.

Naomi would have been mortified if she’d known how his friends had spoken about her the other night. Yet, he’d been inexplicably relieved to find out she wasn’t seeing anyone. There were girls one ran around with, and then there were girls only meant for marriage. In Ohio, Samuel had experienced much with Andi. But returning to Pennsylvania, he found he was already starting to take life more seriously. Roc had asked him once if he intended to marry Andi, but he hadn’t been thinking of marriage when he was with her. He’d been thinking of fun. Now he realized how different their lives were. He’d been foolish or hardheaded to believe there was any future for them.

But he couldn’t imagine what his own future would be anymore. Would he get baptized, marry an Amish girl, raise a family, and farm or woodwork, like Levi? Or would he derail his parents’ plans for his life and strike out on his own? Or even help Roc? After all, he understood things his family and friends couldn’t. If he embraced the Amish life, would he be turning his back on Jacob’s memory? But how could he forget what Roberto and Roc had been teaching him about the threats of this world? Could he bury his head the way his father had? Or could he live, one foot squarely planted in two separate worlds, the way Levi did?

“Don’t you want a pie?” Naomi asked, her voice as soft as the breeze.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” He bit into a flaky outer shell and gooey, sugary inside. “Did you make them?”

She nodded.

“Delicious,” he mumbled around another bite.

She nibbled at a pie, laughing lightly when some of the insides oozed out onto her chin and she had to wipe it away with her thumb. But he wasn’t smiling. He felt a tension inside him, as if he was being pulled in too many ways.

“Have you seen Paul, Eliam, and David since your return?” she asked.

He picked a chunk of crust off the pie and popped it in his mouth. “We got together the other night.”

“Good.” She refrained from asking any more questions. Maybe she suspected them of the drinking and smoking they did and didn’t want to know about it. Worse, maybe she didn’t care. “You seem troubled, Samuel.”

He tried to focus on the pie but his thoughts spiraled downward again.
How
could
he
explain
what
he
was
thinking
and
feeling
when
he
didn’t fully understand it all himself?

“Is there something I can do to help?”

He shook his head and chewed.
What
would
he
tell
her? How could she help?

“I understand,” she said, “if you don’t want to discuss personal issues. But I will be praying for you.”

Praying
for
him? Praying what?
It was the Amish way not to pry and he appreciated her concern, her respectful boundaries, and even her prayers. Maybe he needed those more than anything. He remembered Andi’s solution when he’d been “in one of his moods” as she’d called it. She’d snuggled close to him, twisting a finger into his chest hair. “Come on,” she’d cajoled. “Tell me what’s bothering you.” And her playful toying had eventually become a distraction. It had always left him feeling misunderstood, as if she didn’t really want to know what he was thinking but only wanted his undivided attention. In contrast, Naomi remained respectfully silent, never intruding into his thoughts or trying to pull him out of his mood. He couldn’t decide which approach or woman he preferred.

He finished the pie and brushed his hands off on his trousers, pressing his palms along the tops of his thighs. “I’m trying to figure out—” He stopped himself, but he wasn’t sure why. Something about Naomi made him confide, “I don’t know…where I’m going…what I’m doing here.”

She sipped her milk before replying. “It’s not easy to know God’s plan sometimes.”

Guilt punched him in the stomach. He hadn’t consulted God at all. Shame washed over him and made his throat tight. He gulped half the glass of milk and released a pent-up breath. “You know Rachel, Hannah’s sister, right?”

“Of course.”

“She’s being shunned,” he supplied in case she didn’t know.

She nodded but didn’t speak.

“Do you think it was wrong of her to marry an
Englisher
?” he asked.

She finished swallowing and set the rest of the peach pie on the plate. “I don’t know. It isn’t for me to say anyway. It’s between Rachel and God, I expect.”

“That’s not what the elders say.”

“I’m not an elder.” She reached for her pie again just as he reached for another one, and their hands brushed. She pulled back first. “I’m sorry.”

“No, go ahead.”

She cradled the pie in her hands. “It’s hard to understand someone without walking in their shoes. Have you heard that saying?”

He’d heard a lot of handy platitudes from his mother through the years.

Naomi brushed a crumb off her lap. “Rachel is a young widow with a baby. It would not be an easy situation for anyone. Of course, family and neighbors would help her, but she had a second chance at love. Why wouldn’t she take it?”

In that moment, Samuel glimpsed a part of Naomi’s soul. She was a dreamer, a romantic. It wasn’t a trait that was encouraged in the Amish community. Yet, maybe that characteristic gave her empathy for Rachel. For some reason, understanding that quality about Naomi made him nervous.

A vibration hit his pocket. His cell phone.
Not
now.
Come
on!

“I know what others are saying,” Naomi distracted him, “but I don’t hold with gossip. There were plenty of young men in the district who would have married Rachel. Even with all the stories going around.”

“Stories?” Samuel asked.

She shook her head. “I tried not to listen to such things. But Rachel loved Roc Girouard, and…”

She hesitated, and he suspected her reason, which wasn’t a particularly Amish view. Amish men and women married for love, but it was a love based on faith, understanding, friendship, and vows that were irrevocable and indivisible. But she hinted at a kind of love that swept you up and away, carrying you on a current that drowned reason and sometimes even faith.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged her.

“Well,” she picked at the flaking crust on her pie. “She loved Josef.
Ja
? I don’t think anyone doubts that.” This time when Naomi spoke, her words were measured, not rushed with nervousness, but as if she’d given this particular topic careful consideration. “Obviously, Rachel knows more about marriage than I do, and maybe she knew she could never marry someone she didn’t love. I don’t know.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s probably silly, me rationalizing her thoughts and feelings, pretending to know when I don’t. I haven’t even spoken to her, so I’m not divulging any secrets. But she’s been through a lot. Why should we make that worse now by judging her?”

Her gaze bumped into Samuel’s, and he saw tears making the blue in her eyes as deep as the ocean.

“You have a good heart, Naomi.”

“I don’t know about that.” She averted her gaze. “We are all easily deceived, are we not?”

“
Ja
.”

“So”—she looked up at the thin smiling curve of the moon—“you said you were thinking about your life, of where to go, what to do. Are you thinking of leaving your family and district? Or is it more than that?” Her gaze shifted to him. “Are you considering entering the
English
world altogether?”

He released a breath, as if a rush of indecision and uncertainty poured out of his heart. “I don’t know. Really, I don’t. Before…in Ohio, I was just living day to day. Not thinking about the future other than—” He broke off, not wanting to describe the anger and resentment which had pushed him. He picked at the fried pie until gooey filling leaked out of a tiny hole in the side and he sucked at the sweetness. “But now, I see how happy Levi and Hannah are. How blessed they are with their boys. And yet, Roc and Rachel, they are happy too. And also blessed.” His gaze sought hers. “Would you ever consider leaving your family…friends…all you’ve ever known?”

She breathed several slow breaths. Most Amish would deny quickly any possibility of leaving the district. But he appreciated Naomi thinking it through, taking his question seriously. Finally, she raised her chin and spoke out into the night, as if a prayer. “If God wanted me to do so, then yes…yes, I would.”

“What about”—again, he pick at the fried pie and kept his gaze off her as if he wouldn’t reveal too much of himself—“marrying a guy like…I don’t know, someone on the wild side like”—
Me
. But he didn’t say that aloud—“like that Roc Girouard?”

“Since you’re not asking me…” she teased but grew serious. She did not full out laugh at his question either. She placed a hand on his forearm, her touch light yet steady. “If it was God’s will.”

He felt a jolt through his whole body. He wondered if she felt it too, because she pulled her hand away.

“Do you remember the story from the Old Testament,” she asked, “the prophet, Hosea, who married Gomer?”

“
Ja
. She was a prostitute.”

“His people believed he had acted foolishly I imagine, and yet he knew it was God’s will.” She flushed. “Did I surprise you?”

“Only with your understanding biblical matters.”

“Oh well. I’m quite the scholar.” She laughed.

But he didn’t. Naomi was wise, and he was impressed.

She raised a finger and announced, “Do not mistake temptation for opportunity.”

Samuel cocked an eyebrow. “That some saying or Bible verse?”

Her lips tugged sideways into a secretive smile. “A saying I read from a fortune cookie.”

He burst out laughing, and she joined in with him. When she threw a glance over her shoulder at the house, he quieted. Their gazes met and locked. Again, he felt a shimmy of desire rocket through him.

She looked away first. “Sometimes, Samuel”—her tone was solemn again—“it’s difficult and painful in obeying God while not listening to those around us. I do believe God places people in our lives to exhort us and also correct us. But at times, God’s will makes no sense to any of us here on earth. But we are not to make sense of it. We are simply to follow.”

“What if you don’t know where He’s leading?”

“He doesn’t ask you to plan the route or mark the destination on a map. He only asks you to take one step at a time.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “What step is He asking you to take?”

“A difficult one.” Uncomfortable revealing too much, he dropped the rest of his uneaten pie back on the plate and dusted his hands on his trousers. There were a lot of things he didn’t understand, but one thing he was certain of: he liked Naomi Wagler. More than he should. And that was not good—not for her.

He leaned toward her, peered deeply into her eyes. She looked troubled. In the pale moonlight, he detected a warming of her cheeks and felt heat burrow in his gut. “Are you all right?”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, then sprung back. “Yes. Of course.”

“Naomi”—he touched her shoulder lightly, felt the hum of anticipation between them, and turned her to face him—“are you seeing anyone?”

She squared her body toward his. “No, Samuel.”

He swallowed any reservations he had and leaned even closer. He focused on her full lower lip, which she dabbed at with her tongue nervously. “I would like to see you more.”

“More?” she whispered, her mouth angling toward his.

A snap of a twig made them both freeze. Samuel braced a hand against her shoulder and met her surprised gaze. “Don’t move.”