A Little Bit of Charm (11 page)

FIVE

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear

Friday morning

A
nd did you know that
grossdawdi
Brady used to tap their maple trees and boil down the sap into pancake syrup?” asked Rachel, buttering her second piece of toast. “Just like our
grossdawdi
did back in Mount Joy.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “How could I have known that? I don't keep up with what
Englischers
do around here.” She placed three strips of bacon beside a hearty mound of scrambled eggs and set the plate before her quiet husband. After she scooped up more modest portions for Rachel and herself, she sat down at the table. “All I know is you haven't stopped talking about Twelve Elms since you got home Wednesday evening. You have much to say even though you've only given two tours so far.”

“Enough,
fraa
,” murmured Isaac. “Let's bow our heads so we can eat.” When they finished, he glanced at Rachel and then his wife. “Everything is exciting when you're new. Remember the summer you worked at Bread of Life? You went on and on about
their desserts. One would have thought they invented sweet potato pie.” He ate a piece of bacon in two bites.

Sarah laughed. “
Jah
, I remember. I earned such good tips serving lunch. But by the end of the week I was too tired to do my work around the house. When the tourist season ended, I was glad to return to my lovely chickens…and to you,
ehemann
.” She laid her small hand atop his large, calloused one. Isaac blushed liked a teenager on his first date.

Rachel ate her breakfast faster than usual. “
Mir leid
,” she apologized. “I don't mean to sound prideful or overly concerned with the English. But I do like giving tours, and the Bradys have been very nice to me.”

“Isaac is right. The bloom will soon fade from the rose. Enjoy yourself while you can. You will quickly learn that work is just that…work.” Sarah sipped her coffee. “You were such a big help yesterday that I have nothing to complain about. Thank you, cousin.”

Rachel carried her plate and cup to the sink. “There's nothing to thank me for, Sarah. I live and eat here, so I should help with chores. Moving to Kentucky doesn't change how we both were raised.” She filled her travel mug and snapped on the lid. “I'm leaving now so I won't have to hurry.” She tucked the lunch packed last night into her tote bag while guilt lay beneath her bacon and eggs. Even though she had chatted endlessly about her new job, she failed to mention she wore English clothes while at Twelve Elms.

Officially, she was still on
rumschpringe
—a period of testing the waters before baptism and joining the Amish or Old Order Mennonite church. During this time, she was permitted to court young men and work outside the home. Many of her friends took trips to Walt Disney World or learned to drive cars or bought English clothes to wear away from home. Rachel had never been so inclined…until now. Wearing Amish garb during tours would trigger too many questions about her instead of the stable.

“I'll see you tonight, cousins. Watch out for angry hens,” she teased on her way out the door.

Soon she was on her way to Twelve Elms on a perfect autumn day. She thought about the chores she helped Sarah with and decided she must never be late or forget to pass out brochures or do anything else that could get her fired. They had scrubbed out nesting boxes, swept floors, and raked the areas that enclosed specific flocks. After a long hot shower, she had fallen into bed exhausted, sick of hearing
cluck-cluck-cluck
as the chickens scratched around for corn. Those silly birds would continue to eat until they exploded. But with her current tour schedule, she only had to help Sarah three days a week, leaving three days of pure pleasure, and one day for rest. “Life was good in Charm,” to quote Keeley.

After two back-to-back tours that morning, Rachel headed into the break room for lunch. She was starving. When she spotted Jake across the room, her spirits soared even higher. If they ate together, she could ask him questions about the yearling she kept hearing about.

“Hi, Jake.” She dropped her lunch bag on the table.

“You're just the person I wanted to see.” He pulled a grocery store bag from the refrigerator and sauntered across the room. “Because you were kind enough to share your lunch on Wednesday, I packed us a picnic.” He opened the sack to reveal several plastic containers. “Fried chicken, potato salad, sliced peaches, and iced tea.” His brown eyes sparkled with warmth. Instead of his usual T-shirt, he wore a pressed cotton shirt tucked into his jeans.

“You fried up chicken?” Rachel lowered her voice to a whisper, aware that several other employees were listening while they ate.

“Nah. Mom made plenty last night for supper so we would have leftovers for today.” He tucked a stack of napkins into the bag. “What do you say?”

It took little time to decide. “Sure. I'll save my sandwich for tomorrow. Should I look for Keeley so she can join us?”

But Jake had already headed out the door instead of sitting at a table. Rachel glanced around the room. With him gone, six pairs of eyes fastened on her. Suddenly shy and embarrassed, she threw her lunch in the refrigerator and hurried after him.

He was waiting for her outside. “No, Keeley always eats in front of the TV in the air-conditioning. There are shows she hates to miss. I left enough for her, Virgil, and my dad in the house.”

“Good to hear your family won't starve.” Rachel lifted an eyebrow.

He strolled down the steps, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “I thought we could take our picnic to the old waterwheel on such a nice day.”

Rachel felt a mixed bag of emotions with his suggestion. On the one hand, she was thrilled at the prospect of eating lunch with one of the owners of Twelve Elms. Jake knew everything about Thoroughbreds. But on the other hand, the thought of slipping away with an
Englischer
made her feel sneaky…sort of like the jeans and T-shirt hidden in the bottom of her tote bag when she left the Stolls' house. “Okay, as long as we're not gone too long. Jessie explained I get a thirty-minute paid lunch break. If I need more time than that, it's off the clock.”

“We'll head back in exactly twenty-five minutes.” Looking at his watch, Jake handed her the large bag. “You carry our lunch and start down the path toward the river. I'll catch up after I get something from the porch.” He sprinted off the moment her fingers grasped the handles.

She was being silly. If she worked in the English world, she needed to think like an
Englischer
for six hours a day. Men and women probably shared meals all the time in modern society without anyone thinking it strange or starting rumors. She relaxed as she hiked downhill toward the old mill, the sun warming her back and shoulders. Crickets and grasshoppers leaped before each footfall, while their friends and relatives created a din in the nearby
shrubbery. Overhead hawks and eagles wheeled on warm air currents, pestered by darting smaller birds in their wake. Everywhere life seemed intent on frenetic activity as though aware the cold winds of winter were only weeks away.

Jake caught up just as she ducked through the mill's low doorway. “You beat me, Rachel. You're a fast walker. Here, I picked these for you early this morning.” He produced a huge bunch of flowers from behind his back. “I wanted to give you them before they wilted.”

Rachel stared at the bouquet as though unfamiliar with mums, asters, roses, and Queen Anne's lace. “I don't know what to say, Jake. This was so…unnecessary.”

“Since when do gifts have to be necessary?” He stared at the outstretched bouquet. “What's wrong? Don't you like flowers? Are you allergic or something?”

Setting down their lunch, she accepted the bouquet. “No, I'm not allergic.” Rachel walked to the ancient wall that separated them from the cascading river far below. Ivy climbed the stones, covering the mossy wall with greenery. “It's just that with my people, those who work together don't give each other presents.” She let a few moments pass so that her meaning was clear. “That's only for courting couples.”

Jake set out chicken and potato salad in between them on the wall, and then he handed her a cloth napkin for her lap. “That's pretty much how it is with English people too.” He focused on the salad he was spooning onto their plates. “That's why I did it. I thought maybe we could go out to dinner or to the movies sometime.” He glanced up but then looked away quickly.

“That would not be a good idea.” She took a bite of the chicken leg for something to do.

Jake held his piece aloft, inches from his mouth. “Why not? I assume you're old enough to date. I'm twenty-three—that's plenty old enough.”

The plaintiveness in his voice broke her heart. “I'm twenty, well into the courting years. And I like you just fine. That's not the problem.” She gulped down some iced tea.

“Then what is it? Do you have a boyfriend back home?”

“I have no…boyfriend back home.” Two blackbirds took flight far overhead, drawing her attention. “You know I'm Amish. We talked about that the day we met.” She ate some potato salad, suddenly eager for the picnic to be over.

“What difference does that make? Amish folks are Christians, same as my family. And I don't care what kind of clothes you wear when you're not working. I like you, Rachel. So why can't we go out a few times to see if you could like me?”

She dropped the chicken onto her plate. “I like you just fine, Jake, but I won't court anyone who isn't Amish or at least Mennonite. I'll only date my own kind.”

When the birds exited through a high open window, not a sound could be heard in the old mill. “All right,” he said after a few uncomfortable moments. “But there's no reason we can't be friends.” He resumed eating his lunch.

“No reason at all. But please, no more flowers or private picnics for two. We don't want folks getting the wrong idea.”

“Certainly can't have that.” The sarcasm shading his words changed the atmosphere inside the mill.

Rachel spent a most uncomfortable ten minutes eating everything on her plate, as she'd been taught, while neither of them said another word until they were halfway back to the office.

“Would you like me to put those in a coffee can of water?” Jake pointed at the flowers once they reached the house. “That way they won't wilt before it's time to go home.”

“That's a good idea. Thank you. I was wondering what to do with them for the rest of the day. I have another tour at two.”

“They'll be on the back porch. Don't bother returning the coffee can. We have lots of them.” He pulled the bouquet from her hands.

The sound of a diesel engine caught her attention. “Goodness, a bus is already at the drop-off. If that's my tour, they're a full hour early. What should I do?” She peered up at him.

Jake shielded his eyes to read the inscription on the side. “Nope. That group is for me.” As they talked, occupants of the bus began to clamber down the steps. They wore dark glasses and held onto a long knotted rope as they disembarked.

“Are those children blind?” asked Rachel in a soft voice. “What's the rope for?”

“The rope keeps them together so no one wanders off. Every Friday I give free riding lessons to the local school for the blind. Most of them have developed acute senses of hearing, smell, and touch so they can learn to control a horse using sounds and their knees and thighs.” He looked down at her with a small smile. “If you'll excuse me, Rachel, I need to put these in water and greet my group.”

But Rachel didn't head toward the office as he expected. Instead she trailed after him. “Some of those kids don't look older than seven or eight. Aren't they afraid to mount so large a beast?” She marched up the porch steps practically on his heels.

Jake felt a pang of disappointment as he stuck the flowers into the makeshift vase. His endeavor this morning in his mom's garden hadn't generated the intended response. “They can't see how big the horses are. They won't be able to form an accurate perspective of size until they've ridden a few times and dismounted on their own. By that time, they will have figured out there's nothing to fear.” He swept off his cap and ran a hand though his hair. With Rachel standing so close, his scalp was sweating.