The Englisher (29 page)
Finished with her meal, Esther rose and cleared her table. Zeke excused himself to head outdoors, leaving the children and their places messy, but Esther didn’t mind. She often felt something of a reprieve when her husband opened the back door and exited, as if the contentious spirit followed out, right behind him.
Sam leaned forward, close enough to kiss her again. Louisa flinched; they’d kissed enough. ‘‘Sam, can we talk for a while?’’
She leaned against the door of the car he’d borrowed from a cousin for the evening. ‘‘We
need
to talk.’’ She wanted to be near him, sure. Her heart beat crazily when he looked at her that way, his dearest eyes . . . filled with love.
‘‘I wish you’d stay.’’ He reached for her hand. ‘‘In Paradise, ya know.’’
She yearned for his embrace, his amazing kisses, but an inner voice cautioned her.
He sighed, releasing her hand. ‘‘I have an idea . . . a place I want to take you very soon. A kind of celebration.’’
She wished she couldn’t guess what was coming, though part of her was eager for it. What girl didn’t long to be cherished? Proposed to? But Sam was enmeshed in the Amish world . . . and she was a hindrance to him.
‘‘I want you to understand something.’’ He folded his hands as if in prayer. ‘‘I’m in love with you, Louisa.’’
She held her breath. Oh, the power . . . the impact of such a declaration. Hadn’t she wanted to hear this? Hadn’t she suspected as much?
His eyes were earnest, as if waiting for an answer in kind.
‘‘Oh, Sam. I love what we have . . . yes. But I’m far from being Plain. Farther, perhaps, than you know.’’ She was thinking of her eagerness to paint and draw again . . . to teach, to earn money . . . and more.
She touched her blouse collar and glanced down at her pretty new skirt.
‘‘This is the real me.
This,
’’ she said softly.
‘‘Ach, I wouldn’t change a thing ’bout you.’’ He said no more. And all during the drive home, she resisted the urge to look at him for fear she might change her mind about what she knew she must do.
‘‘I’m freaked,’’ Louisa told Annie upstairs, in the privacy of their room.
Annie perched on her bed, peaceful as a dove. ‘‘Well, I can see that.’’
Louisa paced the length of the long room as Muffin poked his kitty head out from beneath Louisa’s bed and watched.
‘‘Sam wants more than I can give.’’ Louisa groaned. ‘‘I should have listened to my head instead of thinking I could just have fun without either of us getting hurt.’’ She stopped pacing. ‘‘Now he’s in love with me.’’
‘‘You’re just so lovable—could that be it?’’
Louisa felt like crying. ‘‘Oh, Annie, what’ll I do?’’
‘‘Tell him the truth.’’
‘‘Which is . . . ?’’
A train whistle sounded in the distance, and Louisa flopped onto the bed. Muffin leaped up and snuggled his head into the crook of her arm.
‘‘Tell Sam how you feel ’bout him.’’ Annie went to her, eyes sympathetic.
Louisa shook her head. ‘‘Don’t you realize what that means? I’d have to leave my life for good. If I were to follow through . . .’’
‘‘Ach, what’s so wrong with that?’’
‘‘Well, you didn’t leave your art for Rudy.’’
‘‘No,’’ agreed Annie quietly. ‘‘Not for Rudy.’’ She reached over Louisa and stroked her cat. ‘‘But Sam . . . Sam makes you smile like nobody’s business. You should see how your eyes shine like stars when he walks toward you. He’s all you’ve been livin’ for here lately. Ain’t so?’’
‘‘You don’t get it.’’ Louisa leaned her head back on a pillow. ‘‘I don’t
really
belong here. I thought maybe I did, but I don’t.’’
‘‘How can you say that?’’ Annie blinked her eyes and a frown crossed her brow. ‘‘Don’t be too hasty to decide. Besides, I like havin’ you here. You’re my sister.’’
Lying there, staring at the high ceiling, Louisa wondered how she had ever fallen asleep to the sound of beeping taxis instead of the call of barn swallows. How would she ever find such peace anywhere again? But Sam . . . where did he fit in?
‘‘People do crazy things for love,’’ Annie said softly. ‘‘Things even harder than changing a lifestyle, I daresay.’’
Louisa looked at her and nodded, scarcely able to speak. Could she ever really belong to Sam, give up her art? Live under the Ordnung? But on the other hand, how hard would it be to leave him behind? Give up the chance to journey toward Julia’s remarkable faith? And dear Annie— how could she say good-bye to her?
Funny,
she thought.
A man brought me here . . . and a
man’s sending me back
.
‘‘Annie,’’ she said suddenly, ‘‘I don’t know how I’ll pull this off, but I think I need to go home.’’
‘‘Aw . . . Lou.’’
‘‘No, really. I should have admitted this before. To you . . . and to myself.’’
‘‘Admitted what?’’
Louisa sighed. ‘‘Courtney’s visit stirred up a bunch of unresolved issues. At first they pushed me toward Sam, but now, well, I just don’t know where I should be.’’
The two dressed for bed, saying no more.
A
nnie searched for her slippers in the darkness. When her feet found them, she pulled on her long bathrobe.
‘‘Lou?’’ she whispered.
Lighting the lantern, she was suddenly quite aware of her friend’s absence. A quick search—beneath the other bed and in the bureau drawers—confirmed that Lou had taken her belongings. Her luggage was gone, too.
Sighing, Annie sat on the edge of the already made bed, where Lou had sat and giggled and cuddled Muffin and said the most hilarious things.
Here, on this bed, Lou had sketched drawings of twostory barns and haughty peacocks. Here Annie had found Lou’s art hidden beneath the pillows when first they’d moved to this room.
She smiled wistfully, remembering all the happy days. ‘‘A wonderful, sisterly, good time.’’
Then, just as she rose to make her own bed, she spied Lou’s soft tan skirt and creamy blouse hanging on the wooden wall pegs next to the cape dresses and aprons. ‘‘Ach, she remembered!’’ Annie laughed out loud, hastening to the pretty English outfit and pressing it to her face.
She noticed Lou’s fashionable tan suede boots on the floor, and a sand-colored silky pair of hosiery rolled up in a small plastic bag. A pretty gold barrette was nestled in a white box atop two envelopes. One marked
To Annie
, the other addressed to Sam Glick.
Sighing, she sat near the lantern’s light and opened her letter.
Dear Annie,
It’s 2:30 AM and I’m writing this downstairs in Mammi
Zook’s little kitchen by candlelight. Can you believe it, I’m
actually up before anyone in this house? Muffin is already
snoozing in his carrier, ready to fly (stand-by) with me, and all
my stuff is gathered around me. But I couldn’t leave without
writing to you, my dearest friend.
I’m calling a cab as soon as I sign my name here. I’m not
sure if there is enough power left, but I think there is. (I figure
if my smart phone is dead, then maybe I wasn’t supposed to
leave. Our talk about providence still sticks in my head, you
see.)
I really wanted to say good-bye in person, but I knew if I
did, you’d talk me out of going. I also wanted to tell your wonderful
family thank you, especially your mom, who was like a
second mother to me all these months. But I couldn’t wait till
the dawn, because I would’ve changed my mind in a heartbeat.
And if I’d stayed and gone to Preaching today, well, seeing Sam
again would definitely mess with my head. I really can’t go there
now, Annie. Maybe someday I’ll explain, if I can.
Thanks for everything. I mean that. I wish I might have
stayed here in your paradise longer. Maybe forever.
With love,
Louisa
Annie couldn’t help but lament cell phones and Palms and fancy whatnots, wishing they’d never been invented. She wished Lou were still here, too.
Staring at the letter, Annie noticed the handwriting looked a bit shaky and wondered if Lou might’ve been crying.
She loved being here. And she loves Sam. . . .
While frying eggs, Mamm shook her head, saying she could not fathom why on earth Louisa just upped and left. ‘‘Never even said good-bye.’’
‘‘She wished she could have thanked the whole family, but her leaving had nothing to do with any of us.’’ Annie couldn’t say any more lest she start to cry.
‘‘Well, dear, why don’t you think of moving back to your old room?’’ Mamm suggested.
Annie gathered her composure. ‘‘S’pose I could, but maybe I’ll just stay put for the time being.’’
When Daed heard the news, the lines around his mouth showed signs of relaxing.
Obvious relief . . . and no wonder
. But Mammi Zook sighed and patted her chest, her eyes moist.
They all sat down together—Annie, her brothers, Mamm, Daed, and Mammi and Dawdi—terribly conscious of the now-vacant spot where Louisa had always sat.
‘‘That Lou was somethin’, jah?’’ Yonie spoke up at last.
‘‘That’s the truth,’’ Annie replied.
‘‘I’ll miss her, too,’’ Mamm said.
Daed frowned and cut them off by signaling it was time for the blessing.
They bowed their heads in unison. But instead of offering gratitude to the Lord God heavenly Father for the provision of food, Annie skipped over the rote prayer in her head. This day she was most thankful for Lou’s visit—the whole of it—and how an English pen pal had radically changed her life for the better.
Preaching service went longer than Annie ever remembered it lasting. During the membership meeting that followed, she sat in the far corner of the kitchen, entertaining Esther’s children by tying knots in her linen hankie.
‘‘Where’s your friend?’’ Laura asked, her arms folded across her chest like she was a miniature lady.
‘‘Heading home now, I ’spect.’’ Coming right out with it was far better than fudging. Truth be known, Annie wished Lou hadn’t chosen her to deliver the message to Sam.
She
might’ve mailed it to him,
she thought. But if he were observant at all, he would have noticed Lou was missing, for she’d never once skipped a Sunday gathering here.
