The Scent of Cherry Blossoms: A Romance from the Heart of Amish Country (13 page)

During their moment of silent prayer before the meal, Ellen opened her eyes just long enough to notice that her twin sons sat stone faced.

David helped himself to a large spoonful of mashed potatoes, then passed the bowl to Roman. “Either of you boys care to talk about what’s going on between you?”

Roman cast a threatening glance at his brother, who shot back a look of warning. “Aden has violated the church rules, Daed. Not once, but repeatedly.”

Aden snatched the serving bowl from Roman. The other children’s eyes darted from their older brothers to their father.

“Recently?” David asked.

Aden smacked a spoonful of potatoes onto his plate before passing it. “Ya.”

“He’s been sneaking out at night to see Annie,” Roman blurted.

Aden pointed at his brother. “And you’re a bald-faced liar. You think my seeing Annie is worse than your looking her in the eyes and lying to her?” Aden’s stuttering all but disappeared when he got extremely angry—a rare occurrence.

Ellen’s throat tightened as she passed the green beans.

David ignored his plate of hot food and stared at Aden. “What do you have to say for yourself, Son?”

“I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Then why were you trying to keep it a secret?” Roman asked.

“Why did you lie to her about the girl at the wedding?”

“That’s enough, both of you.” David hacked at his slice of beef as if he were sawing a hickory limb. “I can’t believe you would do this to the man who saved our family from ruin.” Instead of eating the bite he’d cut, he started ripping at another one. “If Moses hadn’t poured his time and energy into that diner after the accident, we would have lost our ability to keep food on this table.” Having cut his entire slice of beef into small bites, he finally put one in his mouth.

“And I’m g-g-grateful for e-everything he—”

David shook his head. “If you were so grateful, you wouldn’t betray him by trying to steal his granddaughter.”

“I didn’t st-steal anything. I just—”

“Annie means everything to Moses.” David put his fork and knife down. “He sees her as the only good fruit his life has borne. Even if you
could convince her to give up everything for you, Moses would never allow it. He certainly wouldn’t continue partnering with us on the diner, and without the electricity he provides, the state will shut the place down. How could you risk your family’s livelihood over something that cannot possibly work out, no matter how much you want it to?”

Ellen’s heart wept for Aden. But she wanted to smack Roman for the smug expression on his face. She wouldn’t, but she wanted to.

“What about all the hard work I’ve put into the diner—and this family?” Aden’s ire was up again, and he didn’t stutter one word. “Do I complain? No, I just keep going. Carrying him, and he treats me like a slave and then ruins the only good thing I have.”

Although Aden didn’t look at Roman when he said it, his brother’s shoulders drooped. Ellen was shocked at her typically reserved son’s outburst, but maybe this is what Roman needed to hear.

David unclenched his teeth. “From now on, you will leave that girl alone. You are never to see her again. Is that understood?”

Aden tossed his cloth napkin over the barely touched food on his plate. “I don’t need your permission or Roman’s to do anything.” He stood and walked out of the house.

Ellen stared after her son, unwilling to turn and see the anguish she knew she’d find on the faces of her husband, Roman, and even her younger children.

She hoped Aden would cool off and reconsider his father’s warning to end the budding romance, because she couldn’t bear to think what would happen to her family if it continued.

Roman poked at his food. If he could manage to break up Aden and Annie, would his brother ever forgive him? Mamm reached over and removed his plate. “You’re not eating anyway, and your youngest sister needs help with her homework.”

Roman glanced at Arie. She was tall and skinny for a ten-year-old, and he imagined she’d always be quite thin. She shrugged apologetically, probably afraid he’d lash out at her too.

He motioned toward her room. “Get your stuff, Breezy, and let’s get it done.”

She smiled at his use of her pet name and took off. With an Amish name pronounced like
airy
, he always called her Windy, Breezy, or Gusty.

He watched as his siblings helped clear the table. None of them had eaten much either. He had himself to thank for that. And Aden. Annie too, for that matter.

The phone rang, and Mary and Jake ran out the front door, seeing who would arrive at the phone shanty first.

Arie set her math book and spiral notebook on the table. “I’m horrible at math. I don’t know why I have to study it.”

Roman flipped open the book. “Because it’s our lot in life to face our stupidity and try to overcome it.” He turned the pages. “Chapter twenty, right?”

Arie scooted the chair closer to him. “I think I’d be insulted, except nobody knows facing stupidity more than you.”

Roman chuckled. “Do you want my help or not?”

“As opposed to failing? Definitely.”

Jake rushed into the room. “Roman, it’s for you.”

“Me?”

“It’s a girl.” He grinned. “I like her too. She’s funny. Mary’s talking to her now. She said to tell you she’s not taking no for an answer. Said she’d let the phone ring all night if she had to and at the restaurant tomorrow too.”

Roman glanced at his mother, wondering if he looked as dumbfounded as he felt. It had to be Marian. He guessed it could be the girl from the wedding, but he longed for it to be Marian.

Mamm dried her hands on a dishtowel. “Go on. I’ll help Arie this time.”

Roman’s thoughts ran wild as he wheeled himself outside and down the side ramp to the phone.

Before the accident he’d been active and strong. A benefit to his family and friends. A hard worker. A lively talker. He could bring out the humor in any situation. That man would have gone after Marian. This one was useless. Rarely anything but a burden to everyone.

He wheeled into the small shed and held out his hand for the phone.

Mary giggled. “Roman’s here. I’d better go.” She paused. “Ya, I’ll do that. Bye.” She put the phone in his hand.

“You’ll do what?” Roman asked.

“Nothing.” Mary ran out of the shanty.

He put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“I heard you went on a date the other night.” Marian’s voice made his heart turn a flip. He’d written her off, thinking she hated even knowing him. Every time a memory of his last interaction with her came to mind, he shoved it aside, unwilling to admit how much it hurt to have blown it with her.

“The news of rare wonders travels fast, I suppose.”

She laughed. “Actually, your sister just told me.”

“It wasn’t really a date.” Why did he tell her that? Did he care what she thought, or did he need someone to confess his sins to? He guessed it was the latter.

“No? What was it then?”

“Not sure.”

“Think about it. I’ll wait.”

He wanted to know why she’d called, but he wasn’t really in a hurry to get to the point. If she wanted to let their words create a path to trod, so did he.

She was a bit odd, and they had very odd conversations. On one hand, they were the most refreshing experiences he’d ever had. On the other, they messed with his mind and heart, confusing him and making him want more—all at the same time.

He picked up a pencil off the bench where the phone book sat and doodled on the book’s cover. He couldn’t do much more than stick figures.

“I’d like to say it was a real date, but in reality it was me plotting against my brother.” If she didn’t hate him already, he doubted his confession would cause her to start.

In the four days since he’d come home from Ernie’s, the strife between Aden and him had been as thick as Aden’s split pea soup, and he had to tell someone the awfulness of what he’d done. His attempts to get his brother interested in a girl other than Annie had backfired.

“Roman.” Marian’s voice dropped to barely audible. “Are you serious?”

The dismay in her voice heaped guilt on him. His actions had actually been more of a knee-jerk reaction. Everything in his life lately had been a failure. He hadn’t been able to fix Uncle Ernie’s generator. He hadn’t been missed a bit at the diner, even during their busiest week. And he hadn’t managed to convince his brother to end his relationship with Annie.

“I … He …” Roman put down the pencil. “Ya.” There he’d told someone the absolute truth. “He’s been seeing a horse-and-buggy Mennonite girl, one who’s already joined the faith, and I tried to turn them against each other.” He paused, and she said nothing. “Aren’t you thrilled to know someone like me?”

The phone remained silent, but his admission made him almost able to tolerate himself again.

Marian had shown a hint of caring for him, along with an alluring spunk. She was like a bright, multicolored object in the middle of his drab world. But he couldn’t even court her without Aden around to lift his half-limp body and haul his heavy wheelchair.

“Did you do that because she’s Mennonite?”

Roman closed his eyes, still seeing his wheelchair clearly and the darkened outline of himself.

A woman couldn’t carry him to the shower in the mornings when his muscles were too stiff to move. Even Uncle Ernie had trouble taking care of his needs. And asking for his help had been awkward and embarrassing.

No, like it or not, he was dependent on Aden. He couldn’t survive a single day without someone’s help, and the only one who really fit the bill was Aden. And until now, he’d been self-centered enough to think that Aden was just as dependent on him.

Roman tapped the pencil on the homemade bench, thinking. “I’d thought so, but maybe I’m just afraid of losing Aden.” Why was he sharing the worst parts of himself with her?

He feared more than losing his brother’s brawn. They’d always shared everything, and then
she
came along. Did Annie know Aden like Roman did? That was impossible. Surely even in his love stupor, Aden realized that.

“I called to tell you something.” Her voice sounded different now. Maybe more distant. Maybe more intimate. He couldn’t tell.

He pushed the phone book farther back on the bench. “What, you mean there’s a world happening outside my own?”

She laughed, soft and whispery. “I know this sounds crazy, but I like your sarcasm.”

“I have a motto: anything worth taking seriously is worth making fun of. So, what’d you call to tell me?”

“Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.”

“What?”

“Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their
shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you’re a mile away, and you have their shoes.”

He laughed. “You called to tell me corny jokes?”

“Clearly I need a new joke book.” Marian laughed, and he heard a thud, as if she’d tossed the book to the ground. “Hey, you shared your stupid motto first. Besides, I’ve told them to everyone else. They ran away with my shoes.”

“You know, I needed this weird call from you.”

“Good. Then one of us got what they needed.”

For the first time in way too long, Roman seriously cared about what someone else needed. How had he turned into such a selfish person? “Is there something I can do for you … keeping in mind that I’m quite limited in my abilities?”

“One thing I wanted to say is that I accept your apology.”

Guilt pressed in. “I never gave one.”

“But you will one day, so I decided to accept it now. And you owe Aden and that Mennonite girl one too.”

“Aden’s just wrong. More wrong than me. I caused an argument between him and a girl he shouldn’t be seeing. He’s ripping families and friends apart, and a business, and will probably tear up two communities before it’s done.” He paused, wondering if that justified his actions. What was that saying—two wrongs don’t make a right? “But I’m really sorry I yelled at you. I was embarrassed about breaking the water pump. And I wanted to turn it into a fight with you so you’d walk away.”

“There are two theories to arguing with a woman, and neither one works.”

“Ya, they get over being angry and call anyway.”

She laughed. “So tell me, do you feel better than you did before we talked?”

“A lot.”

“But neither of us is moving. We’re being still, and we both feel better … because there is so much more to every person than what we can do physically.”

Her words stirred him, and he wanted to believe her, to believe he had all he needed in order to be someone’s other half. Arguments rose inside him, lashing against her romantic views. A few minutes of talking, however great, did not make up for all the lack he faced daily.

“That’s what I called to say. I’d better go, Roman. I just needed to say my piece, and I needed closure for us. I figured I might die of old age if I waited on you to reach out first.”

He didn’t want to hang up the phone or find closure. Marian seemed to understand him—and she wasn’t totally turned off by his disability. He wanted to ask if he could call her sometime. But he couldn’t get past what would lie down the road, beyond the entertaining phone calls and jokes. “Bye, Roman.”