Sarasota Dreams (47 page)

He threw back the covers and sat up. Mom laughed. “One of these days you’ll grow out of those things,” she said, pointing to his Batman pajama bottoms.

“Not likely. These are adult mediums, and I happen to know they come in large and extra large.” He chuckled. “Which I’ll need if we keep eating at the church potlucks.”

Mom pulled away from the door. “I need to leave in a few minutes. I baked some muffins, so have one of those and some fruit before you go.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Charles thought about the changes in Mom as he stood up and started getting ready. She’d not only accepted the idea of learning about the Mennonite church, but she’d embraced some of their culture, including the desire to bake. Last time they went to one of the church’s potlucks, Mom’s goal was to make a dessert that would have people coming back for seconds.

When he got to the kitchen, he spotted the note Mom left beside the basket of muffins letting him know she’d left the car for him. Beside the note was a key. Times sure had changed for the Polk family.

He spent the rest of the morning eating, watching a little TV, and getting ready for his date to the circus matinee. His nerves were frayed. Charles had very little experience with women, and he sure hoped this date didn’t turn out to be a disaster.

In spite of the fact that he’d learned to pray about whatever was bothering him, he couldn’t stop the jittery nerves from taking over. The time finally came for him to leave. On his way out the door, he stopped and muttered a prayer.
Lord, I appreciate everything. Now please don’t let me botch this date. You know how nerdy I can be
. He paused and chuckled.
Thanks for listening. Amen
.

On the way to Pinecraft, Charles listened to a variety of music, changing the station when something annoyed him. He eventually realized all of it grated his nerves, so he punched the
Power
button.

He pulled up in front of the Kauffman house and expected to have to walk to the door, talk to Ruthie’s parents, and wait for her. Instead he’d barely gotten halfway up the sidewalk when she and her mother came out.

“Hi, Charles,” Mrs. Kauffman said, a frown forming on her forehead. “Did you drive here?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled. “Mom left me the car so I could drive Ruthie and me to the circus.”

Mrs. Kauffman glanced at Ruthie with a look of concern. “Are you okay with this, Ruthie? You can still change your mind.”

Charles froze in his tracks. “Is there a problem?”

Both women stared at him for several seconds until Mrs. Kauffman spoke. “I didn’t expect you to drive. Most of us … well, not many of our people …” She turned to Ruthie and then back to him. “Very few of the people in our church drive cars. We generally find other modes of transportation.”

“Oh yeah, well, I guess we can take the bus or something, if that would make you feel better about—”

Ruthie stepped toward him. “No, I’d much rather go in the car.” She glanced over her shoulder at her mother. “We’ll be fine, Mother.”

Charles helped Ruthie into the passenger seat and started around to the driver’s side of the car before he stopped and turned to face Ruthie’s mom. “I promise to be very careful, Mrs. Kauffman.”

Her frown slowly faded, and she smiled and nodded. “Take good care of my daughter, Charles. She hasn’t been on many dates.”

Ruthie was so embarrassed she wanted to crawl beneath the seat. Why had Mother said so much? It wasn’t any of Charles’s business about how many dates she’d been on.

He got into the car, buckled his seat belt, and turned to face her. “Your mom is really sweet.”

“She worries too much,” Ruthie said. “I wish she’d learn to relax.”

Charles laughed. “I say the same thing about my mom, but I think that’s just what they do. It comes with the territory. I’m sure I’d be the same way if I had kids.”

“But we’re not kids … I mean, children. We’re adults.”

“Yeah, but this is our parents we’re talking about. To them we’ll always be children.”

Ruthie thought about that and nodded. “I s’pose you’re right. But it’s hard to act like an adult when I’m constantly treated as a child.”

Charles started the car and pulled away from the curb. “Isn’t that the truth.”

All the way to their destination, Charles talked about how much he enjoyed working for Abe. Ruthie felt her nerves calming as she learned more about him. To her delight, he was even nicer than she originally thought, but he still had some peculiar ways that puzzled her. Maybe if she got to know him better, she could ask questions. She didn’t want to seem too nosy this early.

“So, you’ve never been to a circus, huh?” He stopped at a light, turned to her, and smiled.

She shook her head. “Never really had a desire to go.”

“I think you’ll enjoy it. There are so many different things to watch, I can’t imagine not liking something about it.” He counted on his fingers as he named some of the acts. “Besides the clowns, you have the high wire, trick gymnasts, the animals—”

Ruthic’s eyes widened. “Does anyone ever get hurt?”

“Sometimes, but they practice enough to minimize that happening in front of the audience.”

Ruthie couldn’t imagine why people would put their own lives in danger, strictly for the sake of entertaining a crowd. “I know you wanted to be a circus clown. Did you ever get a chance to perform at one of these events?”

“No, I never did. I enjoyed being a clown for a while, but after doing a few volunteer shows, I realized it’s not all fun and games. It’s a lot of work, too, and after the show’s over, you still have to face the realities of life.”

“Why would you think otherwise?” she asked.

Charles let out a good-natured laugh. “That is a very smart question, Ruthie—one I asked myself years after I let everyone know I planned to be a clown when I grew up.”

“That’s such an odd aspiration.”

“Yes, but I’ve never been accused of being normal.”

Ruthie couldn’t help but laugh. Charles was absolutely delightful company. She reached up and patted the hair around her kapp to make sure it was all in place and properly tucked.

“I’ve been wondering something,” Charles said. “Maybe you know the answer.”

She lowered her hands to her lap and faced him. “What’s the question?”

“Will I have to dress differently when I take the final step of becoming a Mennonite?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anyone do what you and your parents are doing.” She cast her gaze downward. “It generally happens the other way, with Mennonites going out into the world and not coming back.”

They arrived at their destination. Charles parked the car and came around to help Ruthie out.

Ruthie looked around in amazement at the variety of people walking toward the huge building. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Just wait until you get inside. This is nothing compared to the show.”

As they approached the building, Ruthie noticed a few people staring at her. She was used to tourists stopping at the shop and acting as though she was some oddity to be gawked at. Now she was doubly uncomfortable because she was out of her element.

“Does it bother you to have all these people staring? If it does, I’ll tell them to mind their own business.”

“No! Don’t do that. People always like to watch anything they haven’t seen before.” She tried to hide the fact that she was pleased he wanted to protect her.

His smile warmed her. “So you’re saying it doesn’t bother you?”

“I’m not saying that,” she replied. “I just don’t want to give people cause to think I’m a bad person.”

“Why would people think that?” He tilted his head and studied her face, making her tingle all the way to her toes.

“I—I don’t want to make anyone defensive. Let’s keep walking or we’ll never get there.”

Ruthie was surprised at the tingling shocks bolting up her arm when Charles took her hand and led her to the gate where he handed someone their tickets. Someone else gave them directions to their seats.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get better seats,” Charles said as they sat down. “This was all I could afford.”

“What are you talking about?” Ruthie pointed down to the ring in front of them. “We should be able to see everything from here.”

He smiled at her and closed both of his hands around the one of hers he was still holding. “Thanks for saying that. Pop told me it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“What?” Ruthie had no idea what he was talking about.

“I’ll tell you about it later. Right now I’d like to explain some of the things we’re about to see.” And he did, fascinating her with information she never dreamed existed.

Once the show started, Ruthie sat mesmerized by everything that happened, one act after another and some happening simultaneously. It was all so different and new she didn’t have any idea what to ask.

Charles occasionally explained each act as it appeared, and it made slightly more sense. Then it was over. All the performers and some of the animals came out for a final bow.

“Well?” Charles turned and looked directly into her eyes. “What do you think?”

“I think …” She blinked, almost expecting everything to disappear as she woke up from the most confusing dream she’d ever had. “I think it’s all fascinating and chaotic.”

“That’s the best description of the circus I’ve ever heard.”

She pointed down toward a clown in the arena. “And you wanted to do what that man is doing?”

“Yeah, afraid so.”

“But why?”

Charles shrugged as he stood and pulled Ruthie to her feet. “It’s hard to explain. I’ve always felt as though my life was boring and no one would be interested in me the way I am. Clowns get quite a bit of attention, and they elicit reactions from people.”

“They’re funny, but in sort of a scary way.”

“I know,” Charles said. “And I liked that, too. No one really knows what to think about clowns because they do such unexpected things.” He tugged her toward the aisle. “C’mon, let’s get outta here. Want to stop somewhere for a snack?”

“Okay,” Ruthie said.

She thought about Charles’s comments about why he thought he wanted to be a clown. She understood more than he probably realized. All her life she’d felt invisible, but it never dawned on her to dress up in a silly outfit, slather pasty makeup all over her face, and throw herself around as she’d seen the clowns at the circus do. Even after seeing them, it still didn’t appeal to her.

Ruthie had to shield her eyes against the late-afternoon sun as they walked outside.

“You okay?” Charles asked.

She nodded and was about to let him know her eyes were adjusting when a little boy pointed to her and asked the man beside him, “Daddy, why is that lady wearing that funny outfit? Was she in the circus?”

“No, but she should be.”

Ruthie felt Charles’s hand tense around hers as he pulled her toward the man and little boy. “We are not freaks. We are Mennonites.”

The man snickered. “You just contradicted yourself. You religious fanatics are all a bunch of freaks if you ask me.”

If Ruthie hadn’t pulled Charles away, she wasn’t sure what he would have done. “Come on, Charles. Ignore those people. They don’t understand.”

“I can’t ignore them.” Ruthie had managed to get him far enough away from the people, so she relaxed just a tad before he hollered back, “You need to find out what you’re talking about before you teach your child a bunch of lies.”

Ruthie wanted to crawl into a ditch and hide, but she couldn’t. The man was heading toward Charles, his face colored with rage. “Don’t you call me a liar, you—” She put her hands over her ears to block out the string of curse words that flew from his mouth.

Charles blinked and glanced back and forth between the man and Ruthie before looking the man in the eye. “Okay, calm down. I wasn’t trying to call you a liar. I was just saying—”

“Is there trouble over here?”

Ruthie turned around and saw a couple of uniformed police officers. She started to say something, but Charles spoke up before she had a chance.

“No, sir. We were just trying to explain to that man and his child that we are Mennonites.”

One of the officers offered a friendly nod. “I like you people. We rarely have any trouble from your neighborhood.” Then he turned to the angry man and dropped his smile. “Would you like an escort to your vehicle?”

After Ruthie was fairly certain they were safe, she let out breath she’d been holding. She’d seen a few confrontations but never when her personal safety was in jeopardy.

“I am so sorry,” Charles said once they were buckled in his car. “That man made me so mad I wanted to hurt him.”

“Do you understand that once you become Mennonite you are not allowed to fight anymore?”

Charles gave her a goofy but apologetic grin. “That’s what’s so ironic about this whole situation. I’ve never been a fighter. In fact, the only time I was ever involved in a fight was when some kids decided to beat up on me one day after school.”

“That’s terrible!”

He shrugged. “It happens. Kids can be mean when they want to show off. Boys don’t want anyone to think they’re sissies. I guess that must be hard for you to understand—this whole thing about people being mean to each other.”