Temptation (A Temptation Novel) (11 page)

Turning, I joined the mass of people and horses, in search of Jacob and Uncle Reuben. Finally, after a few minutes of wandering the stock pens, I found them, along with several other men from our community. As I made my way toward the group, I felt suddenly weary from the stress of looking for Rose and the lack of sleep the night before. All the sneaking around was tiring. I wondered how long I could keep it up before faltering and getting caught.

The sale ring was smoke filled and crowded, with barely an empty seat. The cigarette fumes were stinging my eyes, and dust clung to my pants, having rubbed off from the dirty seat I was sitting on. Actually, every object in the room was covered with the thick, dusty substance, dulling the red color of the seats to pink and even causing me to sneeze a couple times. I’d been sitting midway up the bleachers for the past several hours, all the time scanning the room hoping to catch sight of Rose.

Where could she be? Why hadn’t she come in to watch the horses selling? Maybe she didn’t like the smoggy dirtiness of the room. I would completely understand that, but interest in the sale would surely have brought her in here by now, I reckoned.

I was beginning to worry, and was just about to tell Jacob that I was going to grab a bite to eat as an excuse to see where she was, when I caught sight of Sam’s big body pushing through the crowd near the sale ring. The two cowgirls were closely shadowing him. Rose, wearing a frown, was following farther behind.

I waved my hand at Sam, who saw me and headed up the narrow steps to the few vacant seats beside me. Rose sulked up the stairs behind them. Probably for the better, Sam sat next to me, with Rose finally settling into the chair four seats down. I would have liked her closer, but at least I knew where she was now. If she were sitting next to me, it would be too much of a temptation to talk to her. And with practically the entire Meadow View community in the seats around us, we’d be caught for sure.

The frisky black-and-white colt, entering the ring, caught my eye and swiftly I made a decision, probably a dumb one, but I only considered Rose’s happiness. Leaning over, I whispered to Jacob my intentions and he responded, “Are you sure, Noah?”

“Yes—definitely,” I replied firmly.

“We’ll see how it goes, then,” Jacob said and, listening to the auctioneer, held up his bidding number.

The spotter in the ring noticed and his hand shot up. “Yep!”

With a sideways glance, I saw Rose bounce forward and gawk in my direction, openmouthed. Her expression sent a jolt to my senses, exhilarating me. That one look was worth the money I’d spend on the colt.

There were a couple of other hands shooting up as the auctioneer raised the price by fifty-dollar increments. Jacob anxiously looked my way, and with my nod, he raised his card up and another “Yep!” was shouted from the ring.

The colt was spirited, and the yells from the ring were inciting him to pull against the green lead rope that bound him to a skinny little man who resembled a weasel wearing a cowboy hat. The cowboy was having a real time with the colt, being mowed over at one point and ending up on his backside in the soiled shavings littering the ring floor.

I had to smirk when the man was dragged back to his feet as the colt burst across the thirty-foot ring in a mad dash to escape. When it reached the metal fence, it stopped and stood motionless, except for a slight quiver, regarding its handler with a look of annoyance. The now-red-faced cowboy gave the colt some room while he brushed the pieces of wood chips from his fancy Western shirt. I liked the colt’s spunk. It made me think of Rose.

The bidding slowed and then stopped at five hundred and seventy-five dollars. The auctioneer said, “Going once, twice…sold to number 1029.” That was our number. I’d just bought a wild paint colt I really didn’t need but, twisting subtly to see Rose was immediately thrilled with my purchase when she rewarded me with a dazzling smile. That smile was irresistible. Flashing a grin back at her, I straightened up and continued to give the illusion of watching the horse sale.

Two more hours passed and it was dark outside. The team of Belgians Jacob was interested in were just coming up now. Buttercup and Sally had already sold to an elderly English man for a decent price. I’d been pleased that the man seemed like a nice fellow, especially with the amount of interest Rose had showed in the workhorses. I had watched her stand up to get a better view of the buyer and then sit down appeased by what she’d seen.

Sam’s
friends
had left a while ago, and right now Rose was leaning against him with her head on his shoulder, apparently asleep.
I wish I could trade places with him.
I spent the next few minutes staring at the action in the ring but not really seeing the horses. I was fantasizing about Rose. Sometimes the images heated my face, until Jacob finally bought his new team and we were loading them up in the trailer, along with my spunky colt.

The drive back home was very interesting. With the truck engine rumbling, Jacob immediately fell asleep, leaving me without a chaperone in the shadowy light of the backseat. Unable to resist the temptation, and careful not to startle Rose, I slipped my hand over and took hers between both of mine. She tensed at first and then relaxed when I started trailing my finger over the inside of her wrist softly.

Just touching her like that, with my brother and uncle only inches away, gave me a quiet thrill. She responded to my hands by sliding closer to me until our sides were pressing into each other from shoulder to foot. It felt incredibly right, sitting beside her, touching her skin and feeling her softness. And the fact that she was English didn’t matter at all right then. I was beginning to think that she already belonged to me.

While I sat there in the dark, my body was getting fired up, keeping me fully awake the entire drive. Rose let me know she wasn’t sleepy either when she took her free hand and began touching my arm in the same way I was touching her. That sent a bolt of pleasure rippling through me. My brain started to cloud over with recklessness and I boldly leaned deeper into her, not caring about Jacob or Uncle. I guessed she was feeling the same desire that was igniting my body when her warm fingers caressed my arm lightly at first, then started to press harder—nearly pushing me over the edge. We touched each other like that, secretly in the darkness for the entire trip, until I felt certain that I knew her hands and arms as well as my own.

I was so wrapped up in the pleasurable sensations coming to life inside me that I completely lost track of time. All too soon, the trip ended and I had to release her and sit back up, pulling my body away from her. The places where she had been tucked against me were warm and relaxed. When we separated, my body responded as if it were losing a part of itself, becoming chilled.

In the back of my mind, I had hoped spending more time with Rose might dampen my interest for her. Only it had the opposite effect on me. After all, it would be much easier if I fell for a pretty Amish girl. I figured God was playing a cruel joke on me for bringing such a lovely temptation into my life. Because I knew it would take all my strength to resist Rose now—if I even could.

With disgust, I realized I couldn’t even say goodbye to her or make plans for a next meeting while Jacob hovered around. And with Father marching toward us through the yard, I had to avoid even looking in her direction.

But rebelliousness gripped my soul, and I stole a glance at Rose anyway. My heart raced when her eyes met mine.

In that instant, I knew she belonged with me.

7

Rose

Amish Grace

THE CLIP-CLOP, CLIP-CLOP
woke me from a dreamless sleep. After stretching, I crawled along the floor to the open window. Propping my arms up on the windowsill and feeling as if I was in a time warp, I watched the line of buggies go down the road.

Two, three, five…they just kept coming. The solid-black covered buggies with large narrow wheels, all being pulled by bay or black horses, moved along the road with speed, looking like a bizarre funeral parade from the 1800s.
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
The sound was mesmerizing, pulling at some deeply hidden subconscious part of my brain that remembered back to the days when it was the only form of travel.

Stranger yet was the car passing the buggy parade—what a juxtaposition that was. I wished I could go and see what it was all about. But that was probably not allowed. The Amish people had so many rules. I could hardly believe they could keep up with them all.

Reluctantly leaving the window, I dressed in my most comfortable hanging-around-the-house gray sweats and oversize T-shirt, and headed down to the kitchen, where Dad was already scrambling some eggs.

“Do you have your room unpacked, Rosie?”

Only Dad called me that, and I cringed at the sound of it. I’d just about had him trained to only call me Rose. Sometimes he slipped up, though.

“Yeah, I’m almost done,” I replied, pouring two glasses of orange juice.

“Did you have fun at the horse sale yesterday?” he asked, dropping bread in the toaster.

“It was interesting,” I said tentatively.

“Why, what happened, honey?” He actually stopped his chef duties and looked at me.

“Well, the Amish people are so strict. I mean, Noah can’t even talk to me or he’ll get in big trouble, not only with his parents but his whole community.” I took a sip of the juice, swallowed hard and said with force, “Can you believe that?”

He went back to stirring the eggs with the hint of a smile on his mouth. Dad was a handsome guy, I had to admit, even though he was my dad.

“And…do you like Noah?” He got right to the point. It was a doctor thing.

Without hesitation I answered, “Yeah, Dad, I like him. But why bother? We could never date. Heck, he says he can’t even look at me.” I was disgruntled and it showed.

“So you’ve actually discussed this with him? We’ve only lived here a few days. How’d you manage that?” he asked pleasantly.

He was a cool dad, not the type to get uptight about me liking a boy. In fact, he’d even tried to get me to go to the spring dance with Sam’s friend Tyler. Tyler was cute, but I knew if I went to a dance with him, we’d be hooked up, and I wasn’t that into him.

“We went riding together on Friday. He told me all sorts of things about being Amish.” Dad handed me a plate of eggs and after a big bite I told him, “And, you know what? I don’t think I’d be very good at being one of ’em. I would hate having a group of people telling me what to do all the time,” I grumbled.

“I’m really glad to hear that. I was beginning to worry that you’d convert and run away with the handsome neighbor boy.” He laughed.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Dad…but do you really think he’s handsome?” I teased.

Throwing the dish towel at my head, he said, “Not as handsome as me.”

After breakfast we went and sat on the front porch together while the vampire boys slept in. Dad read his newspaper and I stared at the road waiting for more buggies to pass. But no more came. The road was very quiet now, almost eerily so.

“Dad…”

“Hmm?”

“Did you see all those buggies go by this morning?”

“Ah, a few of them. It was pretty neat, wasn’t it?” Dad said, half-distracted with whatever he was reading.

“I was wondering…do regular people ever get to go to Amish church?”

He looked up then, abruptly, fully focused on our conversation, replying, “I don’t really know about that, but from what Mr. Miller told me, the morning service lasts several hours, and then they all have lunch together and fellowship throughout the afternoon until the evening supper.” He took a breath and went on, “After supper, the youth sing hymns, and following that, they play games like volleyball or basketball into the night.”

“Whoa—that’s crazy! Do they do that every Sunday?” I pushed for more information.

“I think they may take a Sunday off each month. But that reminds me, Mr. Miller invited us over to join the evening youth supper and singing tonight.” The way he said it, all nonchalantly, I was sure he knew how excited I’d be about it.

“For real, tonight?” I was nearly jumping out of my skin.

“He said the food would be served at six o’clock and the singing would start at seven.”

I started to think it was too good to be true and suspiciously grilled Dad. “Why would he want us to come over? From everything I’ve seen, they don’t seem to like outsiders around.”

“That’s simple enough to figure out. I think Mr. Miller wants to introduce the new doctor in town to his community. It’s a reasonable assumption anyway,” he said humbly.

Excitement rising again, I asked the big question. “Are we going?”

“I think it would be rude not to, but I’m on call tonight, so I may have to leave early.”

In a swift motion I jumped up, kissed him on the forehead and flung the screen door open.

“Where are you going?” he asked, looking startled.

“To wake up the barbarians and tell them about tonight.”

* * *

Here I was again, walking through the mowed green field under the buttery sunshine of late evening, contemplating if I’d worn the right thing. I had been extremely conflicted. Should I wear my comfortable khakis or do I go all out and wear a dress? I even stooped to the level of taking a vote from the three men in the house. Not that they cared that much about what I wore, but they played along anyway. In the end, it was two to one, with Dad and Sam in favor of the dress, and Justin going for the pants.

Then I had to decide on the dress; obviously, not a short one. It came down to a long, flowing brown one or a sort of long black party dress. In the end, I put on the sleeveless brown one and judged that it had a beachy-tropical look, which I liked, and it was almost to my ankles, ultimately giving it the win.

I left most of my hair down, with just a few strands from the sides pulled back lightly with a leather barrette. On my feet I wore simple mocha-colored sandals, trimmed with turquoise.

The only jewelry I had on was a tiny golden cross that had belonged to Mom, and it rested in the center of my chest.

Overall, I felt extremely girlish. I usually didn’t wear dresses unless forced to for some function or event that required it, but I was surprised that I felt pretty comfortable in this one at the moment.

Glancing at my guys, I had to admit they looked pretty good, too. Dad was wearing his usual casual dress clothes, totally expected and not shocking at all. But Sam and Justin both had on tan Dockers and button-up dress shirts that made them look like youth models for the JCPenny catalog.

Even before we crossed the bridge, I could see Amish people everywhere. Babies, toddlers, little kids, big kids, teenagers, adults, elderly—every age group was represented. As we approached, I noticed a group of little girls playing on the supersize swing set. Their pretty dresses were in varying subdued colors, flapping in the breeze, reminding me of Easter eggs. And their bright white caps fit their heads so snugly that they didn’t budge at all with the motion of the swinging, as if they were extensions of the girls’ bodies.

Close to the swings was a larger group of preteen girls standing together quietly. They appeared to be watching the littler girls, and they were wearing mostly the same colors as them, although a few sported dark maroon and hunter-green dresses.

Groups of little boys, pretty much identical in appearance from their haircuts to the perfect little-man clothes they all wore, were scattered about chasing each other. I thought I might have seen one of Noah’s brothers run by but certainly wouldn’t bet any money on it. With this group, I wouldn’t have been able to pick one out in a police lineup.

My eyes finally wandered to the gang of about fourteen teenage boys who were hanging out near the barn, trying to look cool, idly leaning against the white boards. Some wore that bland blue that dress shirts usually sported, while others had on sand-colored ones. The shirts were all long sleeved and every one of the guys had on matching black vests. Studying them, I decided they all had a sort of self-important quality about them that vexed me—until I saw him.

My pulse quickening, I spotted Noah easily. He was one of the tallest boys in the group and he was lounging like the rest of them, with one leg propped up on the barn. He hadn’t noticed me yet, so I had a few seconds of privacy to drool over him. He was one of the guys wearing a sand-colored shirt, and it complemented his dark ruffled hair in a very hot way.

I fretted over whether he would be happy to see me here, as my sight strayed to where the teenage girls were gathered near the house. They were standing neatly in a long line, as if they were waiting for something to happen. The dresses and caps they wore mimicked the younger girls’, but that’s where the resemblance ended. The littlest girls were playing and having some fun. The preteen girls were standing in a group, talking a bit, but definitely starting to take on a more disciplined approach to life. In contrast, the girls my age exhibited no personalities whatsoever. They were standing silently and without expression, unnaturally so. It was difficult to tell them apart at a glance, but a few were taller or shorter, bringing my eyes to settle on them for an instant longer.

Continuing to roam my eyes around the quaint setting intently, I tried to commit the unusual sight to memory. My initial assumption had been that the main differences between Amish culture and the rest of the world were the obvious ones, the way they dressed, not using electricity or driving cars, things like that. But the cultural divide was much deeper than that. As I absorbed and scrutinized what I was witnessing, it became apparent that the subtle differences were the ones that separated our worlds the most. There was a lack of sound you wouldn’t expect from a gathering this size; no yelling, calling out or loud laughing. The totally pent-up emotions of everyone over eight was creepy. But what bugged me the most was the division between the sexes. Don’t these women know that we fought for and won equality?

While I was inwardly ranting, something else caught my attention, causing me to scan everyone in the crowd twice before I realized I must have entered another dimension or alternate reality. Most of the little boys and almost every girl, from toddler to teenager, were barefoot! The girls’ perfectly clean, pressed and tailored appearance ended at their feet. And they weren’t discriminating about where they walked either—barn dirt mixed with horse manure, gravel, hot pavement, none of it seemed to bother their rhino-hide feet at all. I could barely walk across a driveway without wincing the entire time.

Seeing the enormous number of children, and the teenage girls lined up with their modest dresses and bare feet, invited a slight grimace to my mouth, thinking that these women took the whole barefoot-and-pregnant thing seriously. And then I did see a very pregnant woman, holding a toddler on her hip, and yep, she was very barefoot. I had to cover my mouth to hide the uncomfortable giggle.

That was the exhilarating and terrifying moment when all the Amish seemed to notice us—including Noah, whose stunned eyes traveled over me from head to toe and back up again, with a swift examination. For an instant his mouth dropped open slightly and then, regaining his composure, he averted his eyes. But all the other boys certainly didn’t, and neither did the girls or even the adults scattered in among the young people. They were all staring at us wide-eyed as we walked past the barn and toward the house. If I thought it was quiet before, now you could have heard a pin drop.