Seeing Your Face Again (8 page)

He was good, Debbie admitted to herself. And he was handsome. Most girls here tonight—now that Alvin was gone—would look at Paul and her with new interest. Yet they would be wrong. Paul would make some girl a decent husband someday—just not her.

From the other side of the court, Ida sent a smile of encouragement. Ida was a dear, but she only made things worse by her not-so-veiled attempts to push Debbie straight into Paul's arms. What had come over the girl? Ida knew the depth of loss she'd experienced with Alvin's departure. Did Ida wish to sacrifice her own affections for the handsome Paul for another's perceived benefit? It seemed so. She'd whispered in Debbie's ear tonight, just before the game began, “I don't have a chance in the world to catch Paul, so don't you be holding yourself back now.” Debbie had been horrified but
her expression hadn't deterred Ida in the least. She'd just given her a sly smile in return.

Paul interrupted Debbie's thoughts with another triumphant look. The man was the limit tonight. He seemed emboldened by Alvin's absence and was moving in for the kill. Since Paul was one of the team captains, he'd not only chosen Debbie for his side but had placed her next to him in the play rotation. The man either had no shame or he considered her a gone goose and unable to resist his attentions. That idea raised her hackles.

He glanced over at her and said, “Thanks for agreeing to play beside me tonight.”

She'd done nothing of the sort, so she gave him what she thought was a piercing look. But it only produced a hearty laugh from Paul as the ball sailed toward them again. At least he was a gentleman, Debbie noticed. He stepped back to give her a chance to play. But when the arch of the ball drew close, Paul shouted, “Set it up for me! Over this way!”
Self-serving man
, Debbie thought, but she still bounced the ball toward him in a high arch. Paul leaped into the air and pounded the ball into the barn floor on the other side of the net with seemingly effortless ease.

“Good one, Paul!” someone called out over the groans heard from the other side of the net.

Paul pranced about for a moment enjoying his success but saying nothing about her part in the score. Now he looked at her expectantly, obviously wanting her to comment on his prowess.

“Not bad,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

“Come on, you can do better than that, can't you?” He stepped closer and tilted his ear toward her.

“You're a great volleyball player!” she hollered.

A satisfied look spread over his face. “That's much better.”

Moments later Paul got another spike in. Mary Yoder, who played across the net from them, scrambled out of the way rather
than attempt to block the ball. She blushed red as Paul teased, “I didn't mean to endanger your life.”

Mary replied, “I only had to duck a little. I was ready for that anyway. You know, playing across from you I've learned.”

“I'll be more careful next time,” Paul said with the same kind of wide grin he'd been sending Debbie's way. Mary blushed at the attention, and Debbie looked around for Ezra, Mary's boyfriend. But it didn't really matter, she realized. Paul's effect on girls was well-known. No doubt Ezra would take it in stride. Most Amish boys seemed practical about such things. Obviously Alvin didn't fit that mold. He'd left the community with a broken heart over her. At least that's what was being said. What other reason could he have had? None. Which didn't speak well of Alvin's courage. On the other hand, how could she blame him in the face of Paul's overwhelming charisma and manipulation?

Debbie tried to push thoughts of Alvin away, but his absence hung over the gathering tonight. Thoughts of him wouldn't go away no matter how hard she tried to ignore them. Thankfully no one else had mentioned anything so far. If they did, Debbie didn't know how she would respond. A thought raced through her mind and stung as it went by. Perhaps the young people shared Bishop Beiler's suspicions that she was to blame for Alvin's actions?

Debbie held still for a moment, the game continuing around her. Paul sent his charms her direction again, but she ignored him as she processed her emotions. Surely no one would think she should also leave or that she'd join Alvin in the
Englisha
world? Didn't they know that neither Alvin nor she would be happy out there? She wouldn't. And she was sure Alvin was a man firmly rooted in the community, regardless of his current action. Wasn't the Knepp family among the most faithful church members around? Bishop Beiler had told her so himself. Somewhere there was a problem with Alvin that no one else knew or had addressed yet.

“Hel–lo!” Paul shouted near her ear. “Wake up, Debbie. The ball might come your way. This is our last round in the front line for a while, and I need spikes set up for me.”

Debbie stared at him blankly, but when the ball came her way moments later, she set it up perfectly for Paul. While Paul celebrated his successful spike, Debbie's thoughts drifted back to Alvin. Could she have done more to assure him of her affections? She couldn't see how. Things were done differently here. A girl could be considered too aggressive. And she had done her part. She'd tried to get across to Alvin at Verna's wedding that Paul meant nothing to her. Yet look at her tonight. She was playing beside Paul in the front row. Did Alvin perhaps know more about her than she did? Come to think of it, she hadn't protested Paul's maneuvers out loud. A protest would have caused a scene, and one didn't do that with Paul. Maybe that's what Alvin had seen—the inevitability of Paul. Perhaps Paul's persona had acquired a life of its own in Alvin's mind and driven him to hopelessness.

Debbie stole a glance at Paul's handsome face. He could be more persistent than men like Doug had been. She liked it in a way—this inability to bend a man's mind once he had it made up. That response came from deep inside of her, unbidden and without her permission. It seemed like a primordial instinct that lingered from an era when a woman chose the strongest man in the clan and wed him out of necessity, not love.

Paul's voice cut through her thoughts again. “Your turn to serve, beautiful. Get on back to your place.”

His tone commanded and condescended at the same time.

“I'm going!” she snapped.

Paul laughed.

The man infuriated her! But she dutifully took her place behind the serving line. She mustn't let him get to her. Her whack at the ball sent it on a crash course to the outer barn wall, well out of bounds.

“Hey, don't do that!” Paul scolded.

Debbie ignored him. If he hadn't distracted her, she wouldn't have made such a bad play. Volleyball might not be her best game, but she was reasonably proficient.

Paul cheered up when the following serve by the opposing team landed in the net. The serve changed again, and the ball was now in Paul's hands. With a confident whap, he sent the ball over the net in a high arch. It landed just inside the boundary line without a hand touching it. He gave Debbie a sharp look as if to say, “Now that's how it's done.”

“I know that!” Debbie wanted to shout at him, but she didn't. What Paul thought of her didn't matter in the least. She watched as he served again and gained two more points. He lost the next serve when their teammate Betty Miller hit the ball out of bounds.

While they waited for the serve from the opposing team, Paul turned his attention back to Debbie. “I heard your little boy left the community.”

She gave him a fierce glare.

He laughed. “Don't blame me. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Yes, you did!” she wanted to snap back, but she kept her mouth shut.

He leaned over to whisper, “I suppose your date card—or whatever you
Englisha
call it—will be open now.”

“And I suppose you're wanting to fill it?” This time the words didn't stay inside.

“I see my eligibility has not escaped your esteemed notice.” His smile was triumphant.

“You don't have to talk so high-brow,” she whispered back.

Paul's smile widened. “Just letting you know I'm both available and suitable for a fine lady educated in the ways of the world—not like someone else we both know.”

“The ways of the world? So you're also thinking of leaving?” Debbie shot back. She wished at once she hadn't. Paul had her more rattled than she'd thought possible.

Paul assumed an injured look. “You wound me to the heart, Debbie. I'm as solid as a rock. You need to get your evaluation sheet in better order.”

Debbie forced herself to laugh. “I think it's in perfect order, thank you.”

Paul raised his eyebrows. “Then why is a certain someone wandering off in no man's land? What happened to your evaluation sheet on Alvin Knepp?”

When Debbie didn't answer, Paul kept going.

“You know, we Amish never settle down out there. Men who leave the community are doomed to roam the earth, forever neither this nor that. And then there's the church's highest displeasure of course, and she can be most severe. I'm expecting Bishop Beiler to have the boy placed in the
bann
before too many Sundays are past.”

Debbie tried to keep the spin out of her head. Excommunication was something no one at the Beiler household had said anything about, but then they might have been careful not to say anything in front of her. Alvin was a church member, so of course the
bann
was on the agenda.

As if he read her mind, Paul smirked. “The inept boy was a church member, you know.”

“And he was a man!” she almost yelled, but she caught herself in time. Paul was trying to get under her skin on purpose, and he was doing a pretty good job of it. It was time she took control of the situation.

“I liked
that
boy,” she responded.

The words came out a little louder than she intended, and Betty Miller in the next row glanced back at her, a displeased expression on her face.

Paul shrugged as if he was puzzled. “I'm sorry I'm not more likable.” He turned his charms on Cindy, who had also glanced back. She grinned at him and turned around again.

Paul had gone for a haggard and contrite look, and it was working
with Cindy. But that wouldn't work on herself. Of that, she was sure. Still, Paul wasn't deterred because he turned his attention back to her. “It's seems to be the bane of my life that the one girl I admire the most gives me nothing but the cold shoulder.”

“Maybe you should try a different approach,” she told him.

Paul perked up. “I'm open to instruction, you know. And what better teacher for a poor Amish boy than a woman educated in all the wonders of the world?”

“You talk too much,” Debbie said, unable to stop herself.

Paul looked pleased. “See, you're doing a
gut
job already. We'll have to do more of this—later.”

The ball sailed toward them in the back line before Debbie could retort. Paul had stepped away and given her the floor even though he could have easily returned the ball.

His charms aren't going to affect me!
Debbie told herself as she set the ball up for a front row spiker. The boy spiked it—not as cleanly as Paul would have done it, but good enough to score the point.

“Nice set up,” Paul complimented Debbie.

Debbie sighed. She'd been through this before with men. Doug was supposed to be the last man who did this to her—give shallow compliments, be manipulative, and demand compliments. This was what had helped her decide to move into the Amish community. She'd been tired of the foolishness, and now she was right back in it again. “Thank you,” she said without looking at Paul. She could see his face glowing in her side vision. Clearly he would have to find out the hard way that his advances were useless. Someday that would soak into his thick head. And the day couldn't come soon enough for her.

Eight

T
he following Monday night Debbie sat on the couch in the Beiler living room with a hamper of clean clothing beside her. The only sounds in the house were the ones Lois and Saloma were making in the kitchen. Debbie folded the clothes as her mind drifted back to the game Friday night. Paul was probably still gloating over his supposed advances in his plans to conquer her heart. Oh, if he only knew the truth. She took a deep breath. She shouldn't think about Paul right now. There were other things more important. For one, the house was in a bustle tonight. She'd come home from her job to find the basement full of drying wash.