Lorie's Heart (11 page)

“We're waiting,” Jonah said.

Waiting.

She picked up her ball and headed for the lane.

It was best to get everything back to normal as soon as possible.

She lined up the pins and rolled her ball toward the end of the polished lane.

As promised, Sadie kept Lorie's secret, and
Mamm
hadn't noticed her change in prayer
kapp.
Lorie had stayed up that night sewing a new one. It was a small penance to pay for her transgressions. She wasn't about to call them sins. She hadn't done anything wrong. Not really. Well, aside from the white lies that she'd told, but she had asked for forgiveness. Now it was time to go forward.

“We creamed you tonight,” Jonah said as he led her toward the tractor he'd parked at the edge of the lot.

“Three pins is not creamed,” Lorie returned.

Jonah smiled. “Still more than the girls knocked down.”

“You got me there.”

They climbed into the tractor and started down the road toward her house.

“You seem different, Lorie.”

“Different?” She had worked so hard these last few days to let all of her questions die unanswered. She had to face the facts; the more she found out the more questions she had. And none of the answers would change the core of what she knew to be true. She was Amish, her father was a good man, and Wells Landing is where she belonged. Oh, and Jonah. She would finish her classes, join the church, and marry Jonah.

“Good different,” he said. “Happier somehow.”

Her hard work was paying off. “Of course I'm happy.”

And she hardly thought about her grandmother or the letters she had given her, the same ones Lorie had hidden upstairs in the storeroom. Or her paintings, some complete, others just outlines of unrealized ideas. Or Zach. She hardly ever thought about Zach.

She almost believed that.

“You seemed to have such a hard time after your father died,” Jonah commented as they chugged down the darkened road. Above them in the deep blue sky a million stars twinkled and sparkled like unfulfilled dreams. Or unanswered questions.

“It was a difficult time,” Lorie said. More difficult than he would ever know. But it wasn't time to rehash all the details. It was the time for moving forward.

How many times had she told herself that? It didn't matter. She would keep telling herself until she believed it.

Jonah pulled the tractor into the Kauffmans' drive. Several lights burned in the house, most of them downstairs. The younger children were most likely in bed. It was the one thing she disliked about bowling night. She wasn't able to get the sweet good-night kisses from precious Daniel.

“Would you like to come in and see if
Mamm
has any pie left?”

Jonah pulled the tractor to a stop, but kept the engine running. “Sorry. As tempting as that sounds, I've got a big day tomorrow.”

She gave him a nod, then swung down from the cab to land lightly on her feet.

“Lorie.”

She hadn't heard him join her over the rumble of the engine. “
Jah.
”

“Are we okay?”

“
Jah.
” Were they?

“I mean, sometimes I feel like you're a thousand miles away. And other times, everything
seems
fine.” He shrugged. “It's sort of confusing.”

“I'm sorry.” She didn't know what else to say. She was sorry. And she had vowed to do everything in her power to make it right from now until they laid her to rest.

“I know all of this has been hard on you. And I can't pretend to understand. But as long as we're okay, I'm happy.”

“
Jah.
”

He reached out and touched her cheek, trailing his fingers across her jaw. “Good night.”

She tried to smile. “Good night.”

Then he swung back into the cab of his tractor and with a small wave, backed out of the drive.

She watched him go with swirling emotions—thankfulness that he hadn't kissed her, sadness that nothing was going to change, and guilt that she felt that way at all.

Once he pulled onto the road, she climbed the porch steps and let herself into the house.

Mamm
was seated at the kitchen table.

“Are you waiting up for me?” Lorie teased.

Mamm
looked at her with serious eyes. “Should I be?”

“
Nay
. Of course not.”

“I do want to talk to you.”

That sounded serious. Lorie pulled out a chair and sat across from her
mamm
. She instructed her heart not to beat so fast. Sounded serious didn't mean it had to be serious.

“I just wanted to say that I'm proud of you. I was worried for a while after your father died. But I think you've finally come to realize—some secrets are better left secrets,
jah?
”

Lorie nodded. “
Jah,
” she said. “Is that all?”

Maddie nodded.

Good,
Lorie thought. Now if she only believed it herself.

Something was wrong.

Jonah glanced over to where Lorie sat next to Caroline and Emily, her best friends. Church seemed particularly long today. Whether it was because Dan Troyer, the minister, was preaching or the fact that Jonah had something special planned for Lorie that afternoon, he wasn't sure. But the service seemed to drone on and on, giving him more time than he needed to think about Lorie and the changes he had seen in her in the weeks since her father died. He couldn't decide exactly what it was, but it was there all the same. Jonah felt like she was slipping away. They had always had a rocky relationship. That much he couldn't deny. But this was different. He didn't know how he knew, he just did. More and more every day, he felt them drifting apart.

He looked to his brother, but Jonathan had his eyes straight ahead, back stiff and hands clasped between his knees. Jonah knew that position well. It was his “keep awake” pose saved especially for days when Dan Troyer was in the pulpit.

They had already been there three hours. The congregation had sung, listened to preaching, and prayed. Surely it was about time to go eat.

Finally the minister called for one last prayer, and they were dismissed.

The day had turned out beautiful. The men grabbed their meals and settled on one side of the yard as the women made the plates for the children, then filled their own.

Jonah hung back toward the end, waiting for Lorie to finish helping pour glasses of lemonade. He should have taken his plate and settled down with Andrew Fitch to eat. But he wanted to make sure Lorie remembered her promise to spend the afternoon with him.

“Hey,” he said, coming up beside her.

She started as if she had been so engrossed in her own thoughts that she hadn't heard him approach. “Jonah,” she breathed.

He loved the way she said his name. “After we eat, we're still heading out for our big surprise,
jah?
”

“Today?”

She had forgotten. Another sign that things were changing. They may have had a rocky relationship, but Lorie never forgot agreeing to a date. “
Jah.
Today.” He tried to keep his anger from his voice, it wouldn't help matters any.

“I promised Daniel and Cora Ann I would take them to the park.”

“Can't you do that next week?”

She shook her head. “They are meeting some of their
Englisch
friends there for an ice-cream picnic.”

“Lorie.” He had made so many plans. He'd managed to talk his
bruders
into taking care of all his chores this afternoon so he could take her to Skiatook Lake, where the
Englisch
kids went on sunny Sunday afternoons. He'd even hired a driver and now she was telling him she couldn't go?

“What?” She got that edge in her voice. The one that said a fight was brewing.

“Can't Sadie take them? I made a lot of plans for us today. Big surprise, remember?”

She shook her head. “You told me that was next week.”

“It is this week.”

“You know I always take the two of them to the park after church.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them with a sigh. “I don't want to argue with you.”

“I don't want to argue with you either. I just want to spend time with you.”

“Then come to the park with us.”

“Alone. I want to spend some time with you alone.” He leaned in a little closer so he could breathe in the sweet scent of the baby lotion she used to smooth the sides of her hair and the vanilla and spice that seemed to simply be a part of her. “Every time we go somewhere there's always someone tagging along. If it's not our friends, it's one of our siblings. I'm worn out by it, that's all.” The instant the words left his mouth he regretted them. They sounded petty and small. He resisted the urge to fling his hat to the ground and run his agitated fingers through his hair. “Is it too much to want to spend a little time alone with you?”

“It is if it hurts a little boy in the process.”

“I see.” He braced his hands on his hips, his nostrils flared. Amish were taught to be peace-loving and docile, but she could make him madder than a wet hen in six seconds flat. “Just forget it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I'll find someone else to drive to the lake and spend the afternoon with.”

She glared at him, her normally warm, brown eyes snapping fire. “You do that,” she snarled. “Just do it.” She stormed away without a backward glance.

Jonah was left wondering if Jonathan had any plans. No one wanted to go to the lake alone.

This time she was not going to make the first move toward forgiveness. Oh, she forgave Jonah, but that didn't mean she had to be the one to say it first.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Lorie glanced toward her sister as they pushed their younger siblings on the swings in the park. Normally, she loved coming here. The park held so many good memories for her. The days when she, Caroline, and Emily met at the picnic tables to eat lunch together. Talking with Emily after the death of her father. All the times she brought Daniel and Cora Ann here to play.

But today she had a sour taste in her mouth, and she would do almost anything to wash it away.

“This isn't about that
Englisch
boy, is it?” Sadie's voice dropped to a near whisper when she said
Englisch
as if it was a word not fit to be spoken at a normal volume. Or maybe it was the little ears they had so near. Daniel wouldn't say anything. He was too young to give much notice to what the adults around him said, but Cora Ann was on the line between girl and woman. She tended to absorb any and everything she could.

“
Nay.
” She said the words with as much conviction as she could scrape together. This didn't have anything to do with Zach. This was about her and Jonah and his unrealistic demands on her time.

“Are you sure? Because you've been . . .”

“I've been what, Sister?”

Sadie shook her head. “You've just been different is all.
Mamm
is worried about you. We all are.”

“There's no need.” Lorie smiled a little at Daniel's squeal when his swing soared even higher. She had lost her focus for a time, but Jonah or no Jonah she was staying right where she was. In Wells Landing and with her family was exactly where she belonged.

“Will you take this bowl of salad to table four?” Sadie pushed the heaping bowl full of Watergate salad toward Lorie, not waiting for her answer before turning away to finish plating someone else's dinner.

She picked up the bowl of pale green pudding mixed with pecans, pineapple, and baby marshmallows. “Why do they call it salad anyway? It's really pistachio pudding and—”

“And what?” Sadie asked.

“N-nothing.” Lorie turned and started toward table four, her mind going in a hundred different directions. Could this be the leprechaun pudding that Betty was talking about? It could very well be. It was green and had been part of the Kauffman Family Restaurant's menu since they had opened. Maybe Betty meant to say Watergate and said leprechaun instead.

It was a long shot for sure, but Lorie couldn't help but feel she was onto something.

“Why do they call it Watergate? What's a Watergate anyway?” Sadie asked.

But Lorie didn't know the answer to that question either.

 

 

Lorie pulled the card from her apron pocket and turned it over. On the back just as it had been before was Zach's phone number. Should she call him and tell him that she might have figured out what leprechaun pudding was? It was the only nice thing to do.
Jah,
she would. She would do it for all the people who worked at the assisted living home and for Zach and Betty as well. How much easier would her life be if Betty could put a name to the dish she had requested for years.

She flipped the card over again and propped her feet against the stool inside the phone shanty. The small shacks that housed the Amish telephones on the roadsides were not made for comfort. After all, phone calls should be about emergency, not the fact that she hadn't heard Zach's voice in days and days, and she wanted to hear it once again.

She picked up the receiver and dialed before she could change her mind. She would call him and tell him that she had figured out the leprechaun mystery. She would ask how he was doing. How her grandmother was and then ask about the others she'd met there at the center. Then she would tell him bye, and that would be that. No more, maybe even less.

The phone rang three times on the other end before he picked up. “Hello?”

It was ridiculous to be so excited to hear him, but she was. “Zach?”

“Lorie?” His voice was incredulous. “Hi, uh, how are you?”

“I'm fine.”

The moment stretched across the line, but Lorie couldn't think of anything to say. An awkward silence fell between them.

“How's Betty?” she finally asked.

“She's fine. But you know Betty. She and Stan got in an argument yesterday over the best color for panda bears.”

“Let me guess, she thought they should have been blue and yellow.”

“Turquoise and orange.”

Lorie laughed. “Even better.”

“So . . .” He dragged out the word until it would reach from her house all the way to the highway that led into town. “I'm glad you called.”

“Me too.”

“Do you need something?”

She shook her head. “I just wanted to tell you that—”
I miss you. I wish I could see you. I wish . . .
“That I found something I think might be leprechaun pudding.”

“Really?”

“Watergate salad. You know with the pudding and marshmallows.”

“You might be onto something.”

Lorie flushed with pride. “You think?”

“Sure, the cook makes that for the holidays. And that would mean that she hadn't had it in a long time. I think you've figured it out.”

Lorie smiled and silence fell across the line. “Well,” she finally said. “I just wanted to tell you that so you could uh . . .”

“I'm glad you did.”

“I suppose I should hang up now.”

“Wait,” he said. “How are your classes going?”

“Fine. Just a few more weeks now.”

“That's good.”

“It was really nice talking to you, Zach.”

“You too, Lorie.” Another long silence stretched between them. “If you'd like you could call again next week. That way I can tell you if the Watergate salad worked. I mean, you can call anytime you feel like it, but if you call next week then maybe I'll know.”

“I understand.” She sucked in a deep breath needing to end this conversation and this crazy desire she had to sit there all afternoon with him on the other end of the line. “Good-bye, Zach.”

Then she hung up the phone.

 

 

Zach stared down at his phone screen.
Call ended
. She was gone.

He resisted the urge to say something ugly and pitch the phone against the wall. None of that would help. They were simply from two different worlds. He could never be a part of hers, and she wasn't coming to live in his. She was practically engaged. That was something he'd do well to remember.

“Bye, Lorie.”

“Who are you talking to?” His mother picked that exact moment to carry a basket of clean clothes from the laundry room.

“No one.”

“This doesn't have anything to do with that girl, does it?” She set the basket on the floor between them and settled herself into the armchair to fold.