The Englisher (17 page)
‘‘He’s English?’’
‘‘Jah, and well respected according to Daed. And my Dawdi Zook knows of him, too, which is sayin’ a lot.’’
Ben continued to inquire about the author, obviously interested that someone who was not Amish could be so welcomed by those who were. Annie’s mind flitted to the notion that, just maybe, Ben Martin was hoping to be well received, too.
When they arrived at the restaurant after a drive of some forty minutes, Annie could see from the exterior what a lovely place it was. It wasn’t a regular sort of restaurant like some of those up and down Route 30, which catered to tourists with signs advertising home-style cooking.
Inside Ben stepped forward and quietly gave his last name to the hostess, who promptly led them to a table for two near a fireplace.
All during the candlelit meal, she found herself glancing toward the door, wondering if someone familiar might walk through and catch them. Several times, Ben asked if she was feeling ill, and each time she politely smiled and shook her head.
Despite being on edge, her conversation with Ben came rather effortlessly as they discussed their growing-up years. At one point something triggered a distant memory, one she had nearly forgotten. ‘‘Mamm and Mammi Zook—that’s my grandmother who lives in the Dawdi Haus—were cookin’ up popcorn in a skillet. My mother must’ve forgotten what was inside, so when she lifted the lid the kernels right then began popping out of the pan, flying every which way.’’ She stopped, trying to suppress a nearly uncontrollable giggle but did not succeed.
When she had composed herself a bit, she continued. ‘‘I remember watching it pop wildly, some bouncing off the ceiling—that high, honest to goodness—other kernels soaring across the room. It was the funniest thing I think I’ve ever seen.’’
Ben grinned, glancing at her across the table. ‘‘I can see it, Annie. You describe it so well. How old were you?’’
‘‘I’m not sure, but this happened at a quilting bee, during the afternoon break, when the womenfolk stopped to stretch their legs and have their fill of . . . well, popcorn.’’ She sighed. ‘‘I hadn’t started school yet, so I was young.’’
‘‘It surprises me you remember that far back.’’
‘‘Lou says the same thing ’bout me.’’
He shook his head. ‘‘It’s really remarkable.’’ He reached for the salt and pepper shakers. ‘‘I have to confess I barely remember a thing before age five.’’
‘‘It might be easier for girls,’’ she said. ‘‘Maybe your parents could share a few memories to get you started.’’
He seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden, so she, too, ceased her talking.
She was thankful she’d taken only a very small portion of mashed potatoes, buttered succotash, and roast beef at home. And for good reason. Not wanting to call attention to herself by simply not eating with the family for supper, she’d sat down with them anyway. Now Annie hoped she would be able to eat enough at
this
meal to please Ben, though it was usually the man who would eat up to impress his girl. But she wouldn’t allow herself to think that way— not about Ben.
Why on earth did I share my recollection of the exploding
popcorn?
One thing she had not mentioned about that day, and she didn’t feel she ought to, was the fact that Isaac Hochstetler had been the only little boy at the quilting bee. Isaac’s mamma had not been any too keen on his gravitating mostly toward Annie in play, although both Annie’s mother and her grandmother had found it more humorous than cause for alarm.
‘‘How’s your meal?’’ Ben asked, jolting her back to the present.
Truth was, she had scarcely even touched her baked potato. ‘‘It’s delicious, really ’tis.’’
‘‘Are you a light eater?’’ he asked, surveying her plate.
‘‘Ach, no.’’ Then she realized he should know her little secret. ‘‘I best be tellin’ ya . . . I couldn’t just up and leave the house without eating. Mamm, ’specially, would’ve seen right through it.’’
She might have, anyway
, thought Annie.
Ben’s eyes twinkled. ‘‘I wouldn’t want to offend you or your parents.’’ He glanced about him before continuing. ‘‘But I am hoping to see you another time.’’
Annie felt her face flush.
Courting?
‘‘I . . . uh, Ben. I don’t think . . . I mean . . . this can’t go on.’’
Ben reached across the table and covered her hand with his. ‘‘Annie, please listen. I really want to get to know you.’’
She knew her face was blushing a beet red; she could feel it all the way down her neck, too. ‘‘Honestly, I’m not sure how we can get better acquainted.’’ She wasn’t going to explain how she’d promised her father she would be obedient for a change. Not since she was committing the sin of disobedience even now, sitting here with Ben in this pretty dining room with white linen-covered tables. Such a lovely, fancy setting for the Englischers present, which she was clearly not.
His eyes reached her heart. ‘‘I’m serious. I want to take you out again.’’
She lowered her gaze to stare at her plate.
It’s not fair to
ignore him,
she thought but couldn’t help it. She slid her hand from beneath the warmth of his own and picked up her fork. She began to eat again, hoping he might do all the talking now. Forget that she had not responded. She was at a terrible loss, unable to comprehend what she felt when she looked into his handsome face with those ardent brown eyes.
‘‘Annie, I don’t mean to pressure you.’’
She nodded her head, because she didn’t know what to say.
They passed the next few minutes in silence, except for the soft music she’d never heard the likes of before, which seemed to come from somewhere high in the ceiling.
In time, their conversation began again, returning to more casual matters, and the earlier tension was forgotten. For this Annie was ever so glad.
A
nnie and Ben were making their way out of the restaurant, following a two-hour dinner, when Annie spied Louisa and Sam Glick walking toward them. Annie sucked in her breath.
Lou?
Taken aback, Annie’s stare met Louisa’s, and she knew not what to say. Sam turned immediately red-faced, as though caught doing something terribly wrong.
‘‘Well, funny meeting
you
here,’’ Lou said, stopping to stand just feet from Annie as she rubbed her mittened hands together.
‘‘Jah, ’tis.’’ Annie realized her friend had not wanted her to know her plans. ‘‘How’d you two get here?’’
‘‘Hired us a driver,’’ Sam spoke up, pulling his black hat off in the night air.
‘‘Hey, if we’d known . . .’’ Ben’s voice trailed away.
‘‘What’s that saying about great minds?’’ Lou said, smiling directly at Annie.
‘‘Well, enjoy your supper’’ was all Annie could say.
Sam and Lou waved and resumed walking to the entrance, and Ben and Annie proceeded to his car.
What’s Lou doing?
Then, realizing that she herself was in a similar jam, Annie squelched a laugh.
On the ride back, Ben talked of Lou and Sam, suggesting it might be fun to ‘‘double up,’’ as he put it.
Double up?
‘‘I don’t think we should be seen together— I mean you and me with Sam and Lou.’’
Ben chuckled. ‘‘Then you’ll agree to see
me
again?’’
‘‘Did I say that?’’
‘‘Terrific. When can I come by for you?’’
‘‘Oh, Ben.’’ Annie shook her head in frustration but couldn’t conceal the small smile that tugged at the corner of her lips.
He’s too fond of me. . . .
‘‘We could drive even farther away,’’ Ben persisted. ‘‘As far as Ephrata, if you’d feel better about it.’’
They were nearing her home now and Annie debated. It was a truly bad idea for Ben to creep up the road in his car so close to Daed’s farmhouse. Awfully risky, especially with Omar, Luke, and Yonie coming and going. Her father’s friends in the ministry also stopped by at odd hours for talks in the barn, where the bishop, preacher, and deacon made many private decisions.
She turned to face him. ‘‘Ach, I’d best be gettin’ out right here.’’
He braked ever so slowly, till the tires ground to a halt against the crisp snow. ‘‘This far away, Annie? In the dark?’’
She pulled on the handle before he could get out and come around to open her door. ‘‘I had a wonderful-good time. I truly did.’’
‘‘Annie, wait . . .’’
Quickly she slid from the passenger seat but made the mistake of glancing back, only to catch Ben’s look of disappointment.
‘‘When will I see you again?’’ he asked. ‘‘How can I contact you?’’
She shook her head sadly. ‘‘We can’t, Ben. We mustn’t. This is good-bye.’’
Closing the car door firmly, she was determined not to break her father’s heart on this matter, despite the strong tug of her own.
Louisa felt as oddly out of place wearing her Amish dress and head covering here in the lovely restaurant as she had at the outlet mall last Monday. Had it not been for Sam, who looked as Plain as she did, she might have considered wearing her pretty red sweater with her black suedelike pants. But she wasn’t spending her time tonight with a suave guy like either Michael or Trey, and she really didn’t miss wearing her own clothes enough to think twice about it. Only occasionally now did she still have passing twinges, missing some of her favorites back home or her normal hairstyle.
Besides, her fondness for Sam couldn’t be linked to her feelings for either her former fiance
or her first boyfriend. For one thing, he had many more good character traits going for him. He also seemed interested in her as a person, and not just in what he could get out of her.
And he’s cute,
too.
Despite all that, she was going to be cautious and not get too involved this time. She was too smart for that now; she’d learned some things from her past relationships. So, halfway through their shared dessert of New York cheesecake with chocolate sauce, she panicked inwardly when Sam lassoed her with his eyes and said, ‘‘I hope you’ll stay on here for the time bein’.’’
‘‘I have a studio of art students waiting for me.’’ She picked up the wine list absentmindedly, thinking a small amount might relax her. Then realizing what she was doing, pushed it aside. ‘‘They’re anxious for me to return.’’
His face brightened. ‘‘You paint pictures?’’
‘‘Yes.’’
He leaned in closer. ‘‘Will you describe some of them for me?’’
Immediately she was on her guard, so as not to implicate Annie. ‘‘Let’s see. My most recent work focuses on country landscapes . . . things found on Amish farms . . . and other rural places.’’
‘‘Windmills? Hand-held plows?’’
‘‘All that and more.’’ She told him about her peacock painting, where every color had been matched to numerous photos she had taken of Annie’s birds. ‘‘I followed those creatures around everywhere. Can’t believe I did that—I actually started talking to them. But, I guess, according to Annie, she does, too, sometimes.’’
That brought a shared laugh.
‘‘Ah, those peacocks,’’ he said. ‘‘No doubt on that . . . a wonderful-good choice for a painting.’’
They discussed the birds’ exquisite coloring and the fanned-out tails, and Louisa realized here was a person who apparently relished some of the same aspects of nature as she.
Is that to be expected from an Amish guy?
She had no other frame of reference, except for her friendship with Annie.
‘‘I like it here in Paradise,’’ she admitted, ‘‘but I’m only visiting.’’
‘‘Well, word has it you’re stayin’ on awhile yet,’’ he said, face full of hope.
She shook her head. ‘‘I haven’t decided how long.’’ She wouldn’t lead him to think she was setting up a permanent residence at the Zooks’, even though his smile faded rapidly with her words.
The light from the moon cast a shadow on the footboard of Annie’s bed. Louisa stared at it for a moment, then rose and tiptoed over to Annie and placed the furry ball in her arms. ‘‘Here, you hold him awhile.’’
‘‘Can’t you sleep?’’ asked Annie.
‘‘Can you?’’
‘‘Not yet, anyway.’’ Annie let out a tiny laugh.
Louisa returned to her bed, sitting up. ‘‘Do you think we’ll get slammed by that blizzard everyone’s talking about?’’
‘‘The cattle seemed awful restless durin’ afternoon milking.’’