A Rose Revealed (27 page)

Davy looked at the gun cabinet Jake had against the far wall. “Do you still do much shooting?”

“Not too much. I’d do more if I had more time. How about you?”

“Not nearly as much as I’d like.” His eyes fogged with memories. “Do you remember how worldly and mature we felt the day we bought our first handguns? I don’t know about you, but when I held that thing in my hand, I felt like I had finally found a way to get even with my father.”

Lauren winced. “You sound like you planned to kill him.”

Davy looked startled. “No. Never. It was more knowing that a personal weapon was something he’d never, ever approve of. It was worse by far than a car.”

“The ultimate rebellion for a pair raised to turn the other cheek,” Jake said. “We’d go to the target range in our Amish clothes, feeling so sophisticated that we were breaking out of the mold.”

“That’s because we always left our hats in the car. Bareheaded was sophisticated.”

Lauren and I looked at each other in amazement.

“They seem so normal now,” she said.

“We should be glad we didn’t know them then,” I said.

“We got to be pretty good with the pistols.” Jake defended the two of them. “And we soon got ourselves jeans with zippers and belt loops and leather patches at the waist. And boots. Black motorcycle boots. We weren’t country bumpkins, you know.”

“Just pistol-packin’ papas,” Lauren said.

“There’s a gun club just down the street from my mother’s,” I said. “We hear the guys down there practicing all the time.”

Jakes eyes grew speculative. “What are you doing this afternoon, Davy?”

He shook his head. “Nothing special.”

Jake looked at me. “We’re going down to Rose’s mom’s this afternoon.”

It didn’t take many brains to figure out what Jake wanted. “Why don’t you two come down, too,” I said like the cooperative little girl I could be. “The guys can go target shooting, Lauren, while you and I visit with my mother and help decorate her Christmas tree.” I had a new thought. “Or would you rather go target shooting? I don’t know about Texas girls.”

Lauren beamed. “I love decorating Christmas trees.”

I thought it only fair to warn her. “Mom’ll change everything you do the first time you leave the room.”

Lauren shrugged. “I just won’t leave the room until it’s time to go back to Texas. Then I’ll never know.”

We made arrangements for Davy and Lauren to drive down to Mom’s on their own, arriving about three. That would give the guys an hour or so to shoot before it started getting too dark.

Jake and I left for Mom’s right after lunch. It was nice to be alone with him with both of us feeling well. It was also awkward. I kept remembering my confession of affection made as I lay in a weakened condition, unable to think straight, unable to exert my normal self-control. I would take back what I’d said if I could, though not because it wasn’t true. It was. I’d take it back because it propelled us to a level I knew would force decisions I didn’t want to make.

As I sat beside him and watched a pair of tethered sheep crop the grass along the road while a flock of chickens ran free in the middle of a field, all I could do was wonder what in the world was going to happen to us. He wouldn’t love me, and I shouldn’t love him, even though it was more than obvious that both of us were fully heart involved.

It wasn’t so much that Jake wouldn’t love me. What he actually meant was that he wouldn’t marry me. It was a commitment issue, but not the normal kind. It was his legs, I was sure. For some reason he felt they precluded his marrying. I’m certain he saw himself as noble and self-sacrificing, but I saw him as foolish. Even if his injuries meant we could never have children, he could still love me. And we could adopt children.

And what I meant was that until he was a believer, I couldn’t marry him no matter how much I loved him. And I had to admit that I loved him with all my heart.

The only answer to our quandary I could think of was for me to leave the farm as soon as I found another place to live. The very thought of saying good-bye caused intense pain to explode in my chest, emotional distress so strong that it produced a physical ache.

“Well, Tiger, what do you think?”

I jumped. “About what?” Certainly he wasn’t reading my mind.

“About the best kind of tree stand. What else?”

What else indeed.

“I have no opinion on that subject,” I said somewhat primly.

He glanced at me as we drove past the People’s Place and the Kitchen Kettle in Intercourse. The usual couple was standing in front of the Intercourse sign having their picture taken, totally ignoring the true meaning of the town’s name, social interaction and conversation. I sighed. What a difference two hundred-plus years makes in meanings of words. Now this wonderful little town was the butt of hundreds of unpleasant jokes.

Jake slowed for a buggy that wanted to turn left to drive back to the new, modern Zimmerman’s hardware store located behind the historic Zimmerman’s. “Somehow I don’t think tree stands are on your mind.”

“They aren’t,” I agreed. I looked out the side window at the military museum across the street from Zimmerman’s. A military museum in the middle of Amish/Mennonite country. I loved the dichotomy.

Jake followed the buggy back to Zimmerman’s and pulled into a parking slot. He made no move to get out of the van, so I sat quietly too.

“I hurt you yesterday,” he finally said, looking straight ahead. “When I said—”

I looked at him in surprise. “When you said you wouldn’t love me? No, you didn’t.”

“Are you sure?” It was as if he couldn’t decide whether he was glad he hadn’t offended me or upset that he hadn’t.

I took care to frame my thoughts as clearly as I could. This wasn’t the time for my usual tendency to blurt. “I understand what you’re saying about refusing to love me. I think you’re foolish to feel the way you do, but I understand what prompts you.”

He made that deep-in-the-throat noise. “Believe me, Rose, you haven’t got a clue.”

“Not about how you feel, the actual emotions,” I agreed. “But about why you feel that way, yes.”

A scowl darkened his face. “You are the most frustratingly empathetic person I’ve ever known. You drive me crazy!”

I scowled right back. “Like you have room to talk. You are the proudest, most obstinate man I’ve ever met. And you drive me equally crazy!”

We frowned at each other, pure venom leaping from our eyes, until suddenly the absurdity hit us and we began to laugh.

“I’m sorry I’m so empathetic,” I said, grinning broadly. “I’ll try to be nasty and spiteful from now on.”

“See?” He pointed an accusing finger at me. “You’re agreeing with me again.”

I grabbed at his outstretched digit and missed as he pulled his hand quickly back.

“Ha! I’ve still got some moves.” He looked ridiculously pleased with himself.

I shook my head and opened my door. “Tree stand.”

On one shelf near the artificial trees sat several types of tree stands. I studied them and tried to think like my mother. I picked up an old-fashioned tree stand with the green water container for the tree at its center and four spindly red metal legs jutting off it. Screws stood out like instruments of torture all around the stand. It was just like the one Mom now had but needed to replace since it had rusted through. I would go with this tried and true model. After all, it had lasted for years.

I looked at Jake. He was reading the label on another box. “This one tilts so you can straighten the tree without having to tighten all kinds of screws. You get the tree straight, lock the tilt, and there you are. Perfect tree. Let’s get this one.”

“But it costs a fortune.” Relatively speaking. “Mom’ll never be happy forking over that kind of cash.”

“So give it to her for a Christmas present.”

“Can’t. Presents are to be personal and only opened on Christmas morning.”

“And she can’t wait until Christmas morning for her Christmas tree?”

I grabbed another box. “Never. Today is already two days late.” I held out the box and pointed to a picture of another green plastic stand. “How about this one? You have to tighten screws, but look how broad the base is. The tree will never fall over.”

“Do your mother’s trees often fall over?” Jake asked.

“Well, no.”

“Then I still vote for the tilt one.”

“Of course you do. Why should you care how much it costs?”

“Well, I’m certainly not getting down on the floor and tightening screws.”

“Of course you’re not. I’m the one who will be on my stomach on the floor tightening, tightening while my mother yells, ‘No, the other way, Rose. The other way!’”

“Then we should get the one that’s best for you,” Jake said. “The tilt one it is.”

“But it’s so expensive,” I repeated.

Jake eyed me. “You’re being a little bit obstructive here, woman.”

“You just don’t know my mother!”

He grinned. “Let me handle her. She thinks I’m nice.”

I snorted. “She also thinks you’re tall.”

He shrugged. “I am tall. I’m five eleven when I’m laid end to end. And that’s tall for an Amishman.”

“Really? No wonder I like you. I’ve always liked tall guys. My father was a tall guy.”

“You probably think that because you were just a short girl.”

“Now there’s a new way to look at it.”

As I said that, I noticed a man an aisle over looking at me. He wore a baseball cap reading Michigan pulled low over his brow and a pair of sunglasses, but even so I could tell he was staring. I smiled vaguely. When he saw me looking at him, he quickly turned away.

I was glad. I’m always uncomfortable when guys stare. I can never decide whether it’s a compliment or an insult.

I turned my attention back to Jake and the tree stands.

Without realizing how it happened, I found myself in the checkout line with the tiltable tree stand in my hands. I turned and looked at Jake. “You’re good. I don’t even remember agreeing to buy this.”

He grinned.

I handed him the tree stand and fished in my purse for some money. As I pulled out my cash, I saw the man with the Michigan hat at the other register. He was staring at me again.

I frowned as I turned back to my money. Somehow being watched that intently made me nervous. But maybe he’d seen me on TV and was interested in someone who had played dead. Whatever his reason for watching me, I was glad when he left the store.

Counting the money in my hand, I shuffled forward as the first person in line completed his transaction. As always happens to me, my line moved more slowly than the other, and it seemed like forever before I was at the register.

Maybe I ought to just put the stand on my credit card. Then I wouldn’t clean myself out. I put the tree stand on the counter and looked at the cashier, a kid whose name tag read Josh. He wasn’t looking at me though. He was deep in conversation with the other cashier, a gray-haired gentleman whose tag read Tim. As they talked, Tim pushed a button under his counter.

My first thought was that there was a robbery in progress and he was pushing a silent alarm like they do in banks. My second thought was that I watched too much TV. My third thought was that I hoped whatever the problem was, it didn’t take too long. Mom was waiting for us, and I still had to go to the tree farm and pick out the tree.

The manager hurried up to the registers from wherever managers usually hide and said, “What’s wrong, Tim? Why’d you ring?”

“I’m not sure,” Tim said. “But I feel like I’ve got to tell you just so it doesn’t weigh on my mind too much.”

The manager looked unhappy as did all the people in the checkout lines. Lost register time was lost money and mangled schedules.

“There was just a guy in here,” Tim said. “He bought a piece of pipe and two end caps.”

The manager looked at Tim and shook his head. “I don’t get your point.”

“Well, if someone buys some pipe and
one
end cap, I figure he’s working on a home repair project.”

“Sure,” said the manager impatiently.

“But pipe and
two
end caps—there’s only one use for that combination.”

The manager looked dazed. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“In light of the news this week, it’s too big a risk not to think that way, isn’t it?”

Josh looked as confused as I did. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“A bomb,” Tim said.

Bomb
. The word leaped through the customers.

A pipe and two end caps, I thought, and a bomb made by an amateur.

Evil Ernie, I immediately thought. He was here? I began searching the faces around us. He was such an innocuous little man, he could have been standing right next to me and I’d never have seen him. But of course he was no longer in the store. He’d made his purchases.

“Jake?” I turned to him.

“I heard, sweetheart.” He laid his strong hand on my sleeve. “Don’t worry. I’m here. Just remember. He doesn’t know where you are.”

I thought for a minute of the man who had stared at me and immediately threw that idea away. There was no way he was Ernie. Too young. Too tall. Just some curious guy.

Suddenly I breathed more easily. Jake was right. Ernie had no idea where I was.

“We’d better call the police,” Tim said.

The manager nodded. “Just in case.”

“You want Lem Huber of the Lancaster cops,” I said to the manager.

He looked at me like I was an interfering busybody. “Right, lady.”

I knew I could argue with him and finally be proved right, but I saw no reason to humiliate myself further. I gave Josh the money for the tree stand and left the store as quickly as I could.

As we drove east on 340, I held the tree stand on my lap, trying to decide how my mom was going to react to something not only new but different. She didn’t do different well.

“You don’t have to worry about what you said yesterday,” Jake blurted into the silence. His eyes were again fixed straight ahead. “You were sick and weak and feeling grateful. I don’t hold you to what you said.”

I took me a minute to catch up. “You mean when I said I loved you?”

A flash of feeling rippled across his face, but seeing only his profile, I couldn’t identify what it was. Regret? Distress? Sorrow? “Yes. That’s what I mean.”