Adoring Addie (20 page)

I couldn't wait in my room—if my parents barged in, they might see the hope chest—so I trudged down the stairs to the dim kitchen. I would round up Billy and Joe-Joe and send them up to bed on their own tonight because I couldn't very well go back in their room now. Then I hoped to slip down to the creek. I was in trouble as it was. I might as well hang out down there until it was time to meet Jonathan.

“Addie.”

I jumped.

Timothy laughed. He was sitting at the table, in Mutter's chair, eating a piece of pie.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“What do you care?” His eyes hung heavy in the dim light. “You're the one who turned me in.”

“I answered the officers' questions.”

He snorted. “Even the Mosiers have more sense than you.”

I headed toward the door. “I'm going to call the boys in for bed,” I said.

“Sure you are,” he answered.

I ignored him.

“Jonathan's not coming tonight,” Timothy called out.

I stopped, my hand on the handle of the screen. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

I put one hand on my hip. “I have no idea.” I wasn't lying. I had no idea how he could have found out. Unless he tortured Jonathan. “What have you done?”

“Nothing.” He stood. “He's just not coming.”

“You're bluffing.”

He laughed. “So he is planning on coming, then?” He headed toward the counter. “It's as clear as mud you and Jonathan asked Onkel Bob to help you. Even Daed has to know that.”

I opened the screen.

“It's only going to make things worse, you know, to have Onkel Bob meddling.”

I stepped out on the stoop and yelled, “Billy! Joe-Joe! Time to come in!”

Timothy burped and then, as he put his plate in the sink, said, “Molly went and saw Hannah today.”

I spun around. “When?”

“About an hour ago.”

“How was she?”

“Better than last night.” Timothy shrugged. “Personally I think she's faking it. And it's just making the whole ‘Martyrs “R” Mosiers' story way more dramatic than it needs to be. And you being with Jonathan in front of everyone isn't helping either.”

I narrowed my eyes. I was certain he hadn't seen me with Jonathan last night. Molly must have told him.

“And just so you know, once I found out you'd ratted on me, I was so upset I hit a pole on the way to George and Samuel's last night.”

“You mean you were so drunk.”

“Ach, Addie, you're always jumping to conclusions.”

“At least you didn't hit a buggy.”

He ignored me and leaned against the counter. “Had to get towed. It will be a while till I can get it fixed. George had to give me a ride back here. So,” he said, “I won't be paying you back for that stupid mantel anytime soon.”

“You never intended to pay me back at all.”

“Well, now I can't. And it's all your fault.”

I crossed my arms. “It doesn't matter. Jonathan returned the money to me the next day.”

Timothy jerked his head back, his eyes wide open. “That only proves he's even more of a fool than I thought.”

“No, it shows what a gentleman he is.”

“Well, my gain.” Timothy yawned. “Except you took mighty long to tell me. Oh well. Looks like I'm totally off the hook.”

Joe-Joe and Billy scurried around me into the house just as Daed bellowed, “Addie!”

Timothy smirked.

“Go wash your feet,” I said to the little boys. “And then get your pajamas on.”

“Addie!” Daed yelled again. I shooed the boys along to the hall and headed to the front of the house, dread permeating my entire being.

When I stepped onto the porch, Daed was waiting for me, standing tall, his broad shoulders squared and his arms crossed. “I already had it from two sources, and Bob just confirmed it. How dare you associate with Dirk Mosier's son after we told you not to?”

Onkel Bob stepped toward me. “Now, Cap, we can all discuss this. You know as much as anyone that Addie didn't
seek Jonathan out because he's Dirk's son. These things happen. And like I said, this grudge—mutual, sure—has gone on long enough. It's time to put an end to it.”

It was as if Onkel Bob hadn't spoken—or at least as if Daed hadn't heard a word of it. “What do you have to say for yourself?” His eyes bore down on me.

Mutter shuffled over from her chair, her face growing redder with each step. “Answer your Dat.”

“Jonathan is kind and true and wants to please the Lord,” I said. “There's nothing about him that should bring you any concern.”

“Except that he's Dirk's son,” Daed bellowed.

“And that he's not Phillip,” Mutter wailed.

I groaned.

“Phillip's spoken for you,” Mutter said, her voice full of hurt.

“No one ever asked me how I felt about Phillip Eicher. Neither of you, nor Phillip.”

“Of course we did,” Mutter said.

I shook my head.

“There's no reason to talk about Phillip right now,” Daed boomed.

Onkel Bob stepped in front of Daed. “Cap, let's wait and discuss this tomorrow. After you've had some time to think about it.”

Daed shifted slightly toward his brother-in-law. “There's nothing to discuss—not with you.”

“Then how about if Addie goes home with me tonight? She can spend some time with Cate.”

Daed sneered, just like Timothy. “Why would I send her over to your place? She belongs here. With her family.”

Onkel Bob didn't seem offended. “Sometimes a break is a good idea. We can take a fresh approach in the morning.”

“I don't think so, Bob,” Daed said. “I don't want her sneaking out tonight to meet that Mosier boy.”

I held up my hand. “Denki,” I said to Onkel Bob. “I'll be all right.”

Perhaps Onkel Bob was afraid Daed would explode once he left and take it out on me, but I couldn't imagine he would. I could imagine, however, if I tried to sneak out of the house, that he would follow me and take it out on Jonathan.

“Good night,” I said to Onkel Bob and slipped into the house before any of them had a chance to say another word. I raced through the house to the back door. As I expected, being sure Daed wouldn't want to talk anymore, Onkel Bob had nearly reached the driveway.

I hurried out the door and down the steps, meeting Onkel Bob at the walkway, but before I could ask him to meet Jonathan for me and tell him I wasn't coming, Daed rounded the corner of the house.

“Denki” was all I could manage to say to my Onkel.

I sat in my room, running my finger along the letters of my name, thinking about Jonathan carving the
A
and then the
D
and on and on, when I heard the hoot of an owl.

The house had been quiet, except for Daed's snores, for more than the last hour, meaning even Timothy was asleep. My heart racing, I stepped to my open French doors.

Under the elm tree stood Jonathan, his hat in his hand.

How I longed to be with him.

Daed let out another snore. It was well past eleven. At first I'd thought Jonathan was late again, then not coming at all. I'd been both disappointed and relieved. Still, I hadn't changed out of my dress and apron.

Perhaps I could sneak out after all. I pointed toward the creek and tiptoed to my door, pushing against it to keep the latch from squeaking. Then I tiptoed down the hall. Daed's snoring stopped for a moment and I froze. But then, in another beat, he started up again, and I moved to the stairs and tiptoed down. I avoided the loose boards in the living room and kitchen, stooped to pick up my flip-flops, and shot out the back door. Jonathan stepped toward me, but I waved him away, toward the creek, and followed at a distance.

Jonathan darted in front of the willow tree and disappeared down the trail. An owl hooted again.

I quickened my pace, fleeing to the willow. The weeping branches tickled my face and neck as I ducked beneath it. I slowed as I reached the path, finding my footing.

“Take my hand.”

I jumped and then relaxed, reaching for Jonathan. Silently, holding onto me, he led the way to the creek, over the stepping-stones, and to the sycamore grove, where we stopped near the hollow tree.

He wrapped both arms around me and drew me close. I breathed in his spicy smell of pine and rested my head against his shoulder, letting out a shudder of relief to be with him again after the last twenty-four hours of turmoil.

“I stopped by your Onkel Bob's earlier. He told me about his meeting with your parents. I'm sorry—that's why I waited so long to come over tonight.”

I exhaled. “He didn't say much about his meeting with your family—just that your father wanted to know what my Dat said.”

“Ach, well, that was the nicest thing he had to say to Bob. The rest was one long complaint against your parents.”

I pulled away a little, tilting my face toward his. “What are we going to do?”

He shook his head. “Talk to the bishop in your district? Or run away? Elope, maybe?” He smiled. “Go to Atlantic City to marry? Or how about Las Vegas?”

He had me smiling at the image of two Amish Youngie getting married in a little white chapel halfway across the country. Not that it couldn't happen. It just wouldn't happen with us.

He pulled me close again, held me tight, and whispered into my ear, “What if I just came by tomorrow afternoon and addressed this with Timothy and your Dat. What if we stopped sneaking around? I'll tell your Dat I'm crazy about you.”

I shook my head.

He continued. “That I want to court you.”

I shook my head again.

“I won't say I want to marry you—that might seem a little soon. Right?” He grinned. “But I'll make my intentions known.”

“Jonathan,” I said, pulling away again.

“Why not? Isn't honesty the best policy?”

“Ach, it should be. But it doesn't seem to work with our families. But we do need to figure something out.”

It didn't feel as if we had much time.

“Just let me talk to Timothy,” Jonathan said, “about what happened to Mervin. Then maybe we could all play a game of volleyball. Or baseball. The Cramers against the Mosiers. Just the men. Whoever wins the game wins the grudge.”

Jonathan was a dreamer—that was for sure. “I don't think that would work,” I said.

“But isn't it worth a try? I'll stop by tomorrow.”

“Jonathan,” I said. “I don't see how that will possibly help anything.”

He put his finger under my chin and lifted it until our eyes met. “Not doing anything isn't helping either.” Even in the darkness his eyes shone bright. “What other options do we have?”

I wasn't sure, since even Onkel Bob struck out. “We need a plan,” I said.

“You sound like my father,” Jonathan said.

“I don't think it's wise to approach my Dat so soon, but we can't just let fate decide.”

“But we could trust God.”

I bristled.

Jonathan raised his eyebrows.

I sighed. “We could move back to Big Valley,” I said. “Or somewhere else.”

“That's an idea . . . if it's God will.”

By the tilt of Jonathan's head I could tell he would consider it. “Is that what you want?”

I paused for a moment. As much as my family demanded of me, I couldn't imagine living so far away from them. I shook my head. “What I want is for us to court and marry here.”

He nodded. “My business would do better here too. There's not as much of a tourist market in Big Valley.”

“So what now?” I said, glancing across the creek at the sound of a rustle in the bushes, wanting more than anything for him to kiss me. I'd been waiting oh, so long.

“I'll come by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Are you sure?” The tone of my voice confirmed my own doubt that it was a good idea.

“Jah,” he answered, wrapping his arms around me, pulling
me close. “I've been praying about it. I think it's the only thing I can do.”

“Addie!”

I startled and then focused on Aenti Nell at the water's edge, wearing a dress and a Kapp she hadn't taken the time to pin but no apron. “Your Dat's looking for you. Come now.”

Jonathan squeezed me tight and then released me. “Go! I'll see you tomorrow.”

I waved to him as I rushed down the path. As I crossed the creek I slipped, sending my foot into the water. I hopped from stone to stone the rest of the way, my flip-flop slapping against the sole of my foot, onto the far bank. In the distance I could hear my father yelling.

“Come on,” Aenti Nell said, giving me a gentle shove. “You go first.”

I hurried up the path, slipping a few times. At the steepest part I reached down for my Aenti, taking her hand and pulling her up. Her Kapp had slid back on her head, and once she landed beside me, I straightened it for her. “Denki,” I said.