Leah's Choice (6 page)

Leah’s brow creased as she tried to hide the annoyance she felt at Rebecca’s words. “
Ne,
sister,” she answered softly. “That’s not what I said. I said I’m going to hear Daniel’s talk and see the pictures of Spain and Morocco. I’ll be twenty-one in a few weeks, and I’m an adult. I think I can decide for myself if I’m going to hear a missionary speak about his experiences in spreading God’s word,
without
asking for my mother’s permission.”

Rebecca slid off the bed, moisture gleaming in her dark eyes. “I’ve made you angry.”

Leah shook her head. “Not angry.”

“Ya.”
A single tear blossomed on Rebecca’s cheek. “I never say the right thing to you, Leah. I try, but it always comes out wrong. I worry about you.”

Leah opened her arms and Rebecca came into them. Leah enveloped her in a hug. “Worry about me? Why? Because I hunted for a lost child last night—”

“Ne.”
Her sister switched from English to Pennsylvania Dutch. “You have a good heart. It was wrong of me to tease you about the Mennonite boy. I only did it because I’m frightened that we might lose you.”

“Lose me?” Leah pulled away to look down into her sister’s face. Rebecca was a small girl, like Miriam, not tall like Mam’s side of the family. “How could you lose me?”

Rebecca clasped her hand and squeezed it hard. “You move too easily in the outside world. Since we were children, you always have. The English don’t make you uncomfortable, as they do me.”

“But why should that frighten you?”

“We’re
Plain
folk—we’re a people apart. Do you forget the martyrs who died that we might worship according to our beliefs?”

Leah leaned close and brushed a kiss on her sister’s temple. “How could I forget? Being who I am—who we are—is bred into me, blood and bone. Surely, listening to a Mennonite tell about his mission work doesn’t change that.”

“It’s not just that.” Another tear followed the first. “It was the Mennonite friends you made out in Ohio. You went to their charity auctions, and you went to the fair with Jeanine and Sophie. And at least once, you helped out at their bake sale for their church.”

“I did, but that was to raise money for a mission in the Ukraine. They wanted to send books and school supplies to orphans in a remote town. I wasn’t attending worship services. And going to a fair to look at animals and eat cotton candy doesn’t mean that I’ve forsaken my own faith,” Leah protested. “I haven’t.”

Rebecca’s chin quivered. “Everyone thought that you’d start classes for baptism this spring, but you didn’t. Even Ruth is concerned about you. She and Aunt Jezzy were talking about it last week after church.”

“And Mam? What does she say?”

Her sister sighed. “You know Mam. She just smiles and says, ‘All in God’s time.’ But it’s past time, Leah. You’re the prettiest girl in Kent County, but you’ve never had a steady boyfriend, and you don’t even let any boys drive you home from frolics and singings.”

Leah wrinkled her nose again as she thought of Menno Swartzentruber, who’d tried to get her to ride home in his buggy last Sunday. “Maybe I haven’t met the right boy. The ones around here seem too young and flighty.” Menno was a hard worker, but his idea of a good joke was piling straw bales across the road to stop traffic in the dark or filling a paper bag with cow manure and leaving it on an Englisher’s porch. No, she couldn’t see herself dating Menno.

“And what about Jake King from the fourth district church? He’s what? Twenty-eight or twenty-nine? He likes you, and you can’t think Jake’s too young.”

“I like Jake—he’s a good man. But his wife’s only been dead six months. I wouldn’t feel right walking out with Jake so soon after his loss.”

“You see how you are.” Rebecca stepped away and straightened her
kapp
, which had come loose when they’d hugged. “You always have a good excuse. But wearing that Ohio-style dress doesn’t help. You know how people are—how they will talk. They start to wonder if you are drifting away from us.”

“It sounds as though you’ve been talking to Aunt Martha,” Leah said. “Or Dorcas.”

“Aunt Martha has a sharp tongue,” Rebecca admitted. “But she means well. She knows Dat would have been worried about you.”

“You miss him a lot, don’t you?” Leah murmured. Their father had been dead almost three years, but the hurt hadn’t faded. Rebecca had taken the loss especially hard.

“I do.”

“Me, too,” she admitted softly.

“Leah! Leah!”

Both Leah and Rebecca turned toward the stairs as the clatter of footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Leah! There’s a man!” Susanna’s eyes were wide, her cheeks red with excitement. “In a truck! In the kitchen!”

“A truck in Mam’s kitchen?” Leah teased.

“Ne!”
Susanna was breathless from running up the steps. “An Englisher man. He wants…” She inhaled deeply. “He wants you!”

Chapter Five

A
s Leah hurried down the front staircase, she suspected that she knew just which Englisher was waiting in the kitchen for her. It could only be Daniel Brown, and the thought that he’d come to her home so soon after leaving her at the Beachy farm a few hours ago made her pulse race.

What she wasn’t expecting was to see Daniel seated at the head of the table in her father’s chair, the one always ready to welcome guests. When she stepped through the doorway and Daniel saw her, he immediately rose to his feet. “Leah.” His intense green-eyed gaze locked with hers, and her heart skipped a beat. “Good morning,” he said with a smile.

Suddenly too shy to speak, she nodded and patted her
kapp
. She’d dressed so quickly that she wasn’t entirely sure she was put together.

“I hope…” Daniel began.

“Yes?”

“You got some sleep?”

Leah nodded again. “Yes, I did.” She didn’t miss her grandmother’s frown of disapproval.
Grossmama
didn’t have to say a word. Her expression left no doubt as to what she was thinking.
Disgraceful
! A Mennonite boy come to seek out one of her unmarried granddaughters—more evidence of Leah’s unorthodox behavior.

“The sun is shining,” Daniel said, all in a rush. “After last night…I mean…after the rain.”

“It is,” Leah stammered. Behind her, she heard Rebecca stifle a giggle. “A beautiful morning,” she added, feeling foolish. What was wrong with her that she was suddenly tongue-tied, unable to think of anything sensible to say? Daniel must think her a wooden head. “It happens a lot,” she finished. “A beautiful sunny day after a storm.”

“Yes, it seems that way,” he answered.

“Sit, please,” Leah said. Her stomach felt as though she’d swallowed a live moth. She clasped her hands together, and then smoothed her apron. When she’d first stepped out of the hall and seen Daniel at the table with her family, the kitchen had felt warm and welcoming, but
Grossmama
’s tight-lipped stare was quickly frosting the air.

Leah sucked in her breath, realizing that Daniel had displeased her grandmother even more by standing when Leah came into the room. It wasn’t
Plain
behavior and went against the beliefs of the Old Order Amish.

Standing up when a woman joined them was what Leah had seen Englishers do in restaurants or on TV. Of course, television and movies were frowned upon by the church elders, but Leah was fascinated by glimpses of the outer world. Her Mennonite girlfriends had a television set in their family room, and Leah had watched Disney movies and some family shows with them on Saturday evenings when she was in Ohio. But she wasn’t in Ohio now—she was in Kent County, Delaware, and Daniel’s action had reminded everyone that he was an outsider.

“I didn’t mean to intrude on your breakfast,” Daniel said. “I wanted to invite you all to come back and…” He paused for breath and her mother finished the explanation.

“Daniel’s program at the Grange will be this evening,” Hannah said. “He wanted to make sure that we knew about it.”

“He missed his breakfast this morning so he wouldn’t be late for church,” Aunt Jezzy put in.
Grossmama
glared at her, but Aunt Jezzy went on in her timid voice to say, “Hannah asked him to eat with us.”

“I really didn’t need to eat—” Daniel began.

Thirteen-year-old Irwin cut him off. “Don’t just stand there, Leah. Come to the table before the pancakes get cold.”

Susanna and Rebecca took their places, but Leah glanced at her mother. The only seat left was her usual one, and that was next to Daniel. Leah could feel those moth wings fluttering in the pit of her stomach. If she sat beside Daniel,
Grossmama
would assume she’d invited him here, and she’d never hear the end of it.

“Leah, sit.” Her mother slid into her own chair at the foot of the table. “Let us have prayer, and then everyone can eat before the food is ruined. I’ve just put more scrapple on to fry. You can turn that and then pour the coffee.” Mam wiped her hands on her apron and smiled at Daniel. “You eat scrapple, don’t you?”

His pleasant face creased in a smile. “Yes, Mrs. Yoder, I do. I love it, but I never get it anywhere but Pennsylvania, Delaware, or Ohio.”

“Mam made it,” Susanna chimed in. “I helped.”

“Ya.”
Now that his pancakes were only a prayer away, Irwin’s attitude softened. “It’s
goot
.” He looked at Mam. “Can I go with Leah and the girls to see Daniel’s show?”

Mam put her finger to her lips to signal silence. Everyone at the table, including Daniel, closed their eyes and offered silent thanks for the food and for the promise of the coming day. But when a moment had passed, Mam surprised them by saying, “Maybe our guest would like to say grace. I believe it is the Mennonite custom.”

Leah looked at Daniel. He squirmed, cleared his throat and said, “Thank you, Lord, for family, community and new friends. And bless the hands that made this meal. Amen.”

Grossmama
grunted and reached for the syrup. “That was
goot
,” she admitted. “A
goot
prayer.”

“It was.” Aunt Jezebel’s eyes twinkled. “A
good
prayer. Thank you, Daniel.”

Soon, everyone was too busy eating to talk or to stare at their visitor. Leah had been hungry when she’d awakened, but now, she found Mam’s usually delicious pancakes tasted like dry fodder. She pushed a forkful around on her plate and sneaked a glance at Daniel, who was eating heartily.

“Leah,” Mam reminded. “The scrapple?”

She leaped up, smelling the first whiff of something burning. “I forgot,” she said, hurrying to the range to flip the crispy slabs. “Just in time.” Using a hot mitt, she pushed the cast-iron frying pan back to a cooler section of the stovetop. It would soon be too warm to use the woodstove until fall, but Mam always said that the old stove cooked better than the modern gas one that stood beside it.

With something to do with her hands, it was easier for Leah to act as if a Mennonite boy came to breakfast every Sunday. What was wrong with her this morning? She was as giddy as a teenager. If she didn’t gather her wits, Daniel would be sorry he’d come.

As Leah filled coffee cups around the table, she managed to get a good look at Daniel. She’d spent hours with him the night before, but in the dark, she really hadn’t been able to see him clearly. He did look a little English in his white, button-up shirt and brown dress trousers, but there was something Dutch about him as well. Daniel had a pleasant face, good straight teeth that showed when he smiled and a fair complexion with ruddy cheeks. His thick brown hair was cut a little short for an Amish man, but what attracted her most were his unusually green eyes—even more striking than she remembered.

“Will you stop staring at him and give me some coffee?”
Grossmama
asked in the Amish dialect that the family usually spoke among themselves.

Mam’s mouth firmed, and she looked directly at her mother-in-law. This was Mam’s home and her kitchen, and she’d invited Daniel to eat with them. One of Mam’s rules in this house was not to speak German in front of the English, because she felt it was rude.

Leah’s insides clenched. Her grandmother had no call to embarrass her in front of Daniel—hopefully he didn’t understand Pennsylvania Dutch. But Rebecca giggled, and Susanna’s mouth dropped open as she stared at Leah.

“Why’s Leah starin’ at Daniel?” Susanna asked, also in Dutch.

“She wants to make sure he has enough to eat,” Mam supplied. “Leah, bring Daniel some of that scrapple.”

“Danke,”
he said.
“Wunderbar.”

Leah’s eyes widened. “You speak Pennsylvania Dutch?”

“Not very well, I’m afraid.” He shrugged. “My grandfather spoke it when I was a child. I think I’ve forgotten most of what he taught me.”

Hannah smiled. “But you probably understand a great deal.”

“Ya,”
he replied.

Leah glanced at
Grossmama
, who had suddenly taken a great interest in her breakfast, and then back at Daniel.

He laid his fork down, wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked up at her. “Can you come this evening? Do you think the young people can come back as well? I thought tonight might be too soon for people to make arrangements, but it’s the only night the Grange is free until Wednesday.”

“You’ll have to ask my daughter and son-in-law,” Mam said. “They’re the sponsors for the Gleaners. And, of course, it’s up to the parents.”

“We already got permission from the bishop,” Rebecca reminded her. “For the kids to come last night.”

“Aunt Mildred said that this wasn’t a church Sunday for you,” Daniel continued. “I promise not to keep the Gleaners up late. I think they’d enjoy the PowerPoint part of the program. Most people love the pictures of the camels. I know tomorrow’s a school day, so my aunt has volunteered to pick everyone up in her van.”

Irwin held up his plate for scrapple. “School’s out for the summer in a week,” he said. “I can’t wait.” Leah put two slices on his plate, and he slid them into a mountain of homemade catsup. “Can I go, Hannah? Can I go with Leah?”