Leah's Choice (7 page)

Hannah shook her head. “
Ne
, Irwin. You are not old enough to be a Gleaner. Next year, when you’re fourteen. The bishop said, ‘No children.’ He only gave permission for the teenagers.”

“But I’m thirteen,” Irwin protested. “I should be—”

Hannah gave him a
look
. Irwin’s face fell, but he held his tongue. Leah was glad. Irwin was a normal boy who sometimes got sassy, but she didn’t want him to make Mam look bad by arguing with her when they had a stranger at the table. Irwin continued to eat in silence, but the fact that he didn’t run from the table in tears proved that he was gaining a little maturity.

“Will you be leaving Seven Poplars tomorrow?” Mam asked Daniel.

He shook his head. “No, Mrs. Yoder. I’m staying on at my aunt’s for a few weeks until I get my next assignment.”

“Assignment?” Leah’s curiosity got the best of her, and the question popped out before she’d thought better of it. Daniel had just come back to the United States. Was he leaving again so soon? Disappointment washed over her. Other than finding Joey safe and sound, meeting Daniel had been the most exciting thing that had happened to her since she’d come home, and she’d hoped to continue the new friendship.

He nodded. “My parents, younger brother and younger sisters are living on an Indian reservation in Canada—my parents teach there. They’ve recently made the move from Spain, where I lived with them, but now I’m on my own.”

“Do you get to pick where you go?” Mam asked.

“Sometimes,” Daniel replied. “But I’ve asked to serve where I’m most needed.”

“Could they send you back to Spain?” Leah asked.

“That’s possible. At least I speak the language. But I could be assigned here in the States as well—anywhere from Appalachia to an inner-city community. Or they could send me as far away as Ukraine.”

Leah put the serving plate back on the counter and returned to her seat at the table. “Won’t you miss your family?” she asked him. “If you go far away?” She remembered how strange it had seemed at first when she’d gone to Ohio to tend to her grandmother. She’d been terribly homesick, and she’d had her sister Rebecca for company.

“I will,” Daniel said, grimacing. “That’s the hard part about serving at an overseas mission. You’re so isolated from family and friends you care about most. But I feel that the Lord has called me to help people who need it. There are lots of places where there’s a real need for medical services. I’m not a doctor, but I am a nurse, and I think I can make a difference.”

“So, as a nurse, you get to see other places and customs while you’re doing God’s work.” Mam nodded. “Many Mennonite families are called to go on mission, but it can be hard on the children.”

“My eldest sister, Margie, would agree with you, Mrs. Yoder. She married a Methodist dentist and lives in a small town in Nebraska. She says she has no intentions of moving again—ever.”

“Call me
Hannah
, please,” Mam said gently. “We Amish don’t use fancy titles.”

“I’m sorry,” Daniel said. “I didn’t—”

“Ne,”
Grossmama
interjected. “It is not the
Plain
way.”

“Just
Hannah
will do fine,” Mam said. “As to whether or not the young people may go to hear tonight’s program, I think the best thing would be for you to go down to my son-in-law Charley’s house. Leah can show you the way.”

“I’ll just help clear the table first,” she said.

“
Ne
, no need.” Mam sipped her coffee. “There are plenty of hands to make short work of the breakfast dishes. You go on with Daniel.”

“Irwin can point out Miriam and Charley’s house,”
Grossmama
said. “It’s just across the field.”

“I don’t mind.” Leah rose, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin. “I wanted to take some of that scrapple to Miriam anyway. You know it’s her favorite.”

Taking the hint, Daniel murmured his thanks for breakfast, said his goodbyes while she made a plate of scrapple, and then followed her outside into the yard. His truck was parked in the driveway.

“Did you want to drive over or should we walk?” he asked.

Leah caught a glimpse of someone pulling aside a kitchen curtain and waved as Susanna’s round little face appeared, pressed against the glass. Her sister waved furiously before abruptly disappearing. Probably Mam had seen her peeking out the window and pulled her away. One thing about having a big family—someone was always watching.

“Leah?” Daniel looked hesitant. “I’d be glad to drive you, if it isn’t against the rules for you to ride with me.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Why wouldn’t I be able to ride in your truck? I’m Amish, not Muslim.”

His ruddy cheeks grew even redder. “I didn’t know. I already did the wrong thing inside—by calling your mother Mrs. Yoder. I didn’t want to get you into trouble.” He reached over and opened the cab door.

Leah smiled at him. “Don’t worry. I doubt if Mam was shocked. She used to be Mennonite, you know—before she married my father. She converted to Amish for him.”

“Oh.” Daniel walked around the front of the pickup and got behind the wheel. “So, what you’re saying is that your mother isn’t as strict?”

Leah chuckled, setting the plate covered with foil on her lap. “No, I didn’t say that at all. Delaware Amish are very
Old Order
—very traditional—and my mother is a faithful member of the church. It’s just that few people, other than my grandmother, would object to my riding down our lane to my sisters’ house. We won’t even have to go out on the blacktop road. It’s not as though we were going to Ocean City, to the boardwalk.” She stopped, suddenly feeling very silly. “Not that we would—that you would. I was…was just saying.”

Daniel smiled at her. “I think that you are a unique young woman, Leah Yoder. And with me, you can say whatever you like.”

Leah smiled back as her awkward moment slid away. It was hard to remain on edge around Daniel. He was just so…so nice. He made her feel happy, just being near him. “I wanted to hear your talk last night,” she said. “And now that I know you a little better, I’m even more eager to hear about your experiences. It’s something I’ve always admired, spreading God’s word.” She pointed. “Go that way, around the barn.”

“I don’t know if I’ve led anyone to the Lord,” he answered as he turned the key and drove slowly out of the farmyard.

“What about that boy you saved from the mob in Morocco?”

“Mousa?” Daniel chuckled again. “That rascal? It turned out that he was innocent of the theft that almost got him killed, but I’m afraid that he’s still…um…a work in progress.”

“Mou-sa? His name is Mou-sa? What happened to him? He must have been grateful that you saved his life.”

Daniel shrugged. “I’ll explain it all during my program, or at least a shortened version of
life as Mousa sees it.
”

“But you kept him safe, didn’t you?”

Daniel eased the truck around the barn and corncrib. “After I brought him home, it was impossible to reform him, and even more impossible to make a convert of him. When he claimed to be a homeless orphan, my father found a respectable foster family for him and paid for his tuition at a private school out of his own pocket.”

“And?” Leah was intrigued.

“He ran away from the foster home and the school about a dozen times. Turns out, Mousa wasn’t an orphan. He had a father and a mother and nine brothers—all of whom made their living by hoodwinking well-meaning foreigners.”

“How terrible. Was your father angry?”

“Not really. Perhaps angry with himself for not investigating the situation further. But these things happen. We can’t not offer aid just because someone might occasionally take advantage of us.”

“I suppose that makes sense. There’s the farmhouse.” Leah pointed. “It’s new. The community pitched in to build it last summer when Ruth and Eli got married.”

“But I thought you said that Charley and Miriam lived here.”

Leah laughed. “They do. Ruth and Eli live in the bottom part of the house. Charley and Miriam have the top floor. It works out great because Miriam is good with animals and can’t make toast without burning it.”

“And Ruth, I suppose, cooks like your mother.”

“Exactly.” He drove slowly down the narrow dirt road that led to the little farmhouse. “And what about you? Are you a fabulous cook?”

She smiled back. “I’m learning. I have to admit, I’m a better seamstress than a cook.”

“I don’t cook at all. My mother kept trying to tell me that I might have to cook for myself, but I was always too busy to learn. And I had three sisters. They’re notorious for spoiling brothers.”

“I wouldn’t know about that,” she replied. “I only have sisters—six of them.”

“More than me. I only have three sisters and two brothers, but they’re all special.”

“I’m sure they are,” Leah said.
They must be, if they’re anything like you.
Suddenly, she felt as though she’d known Daniel all her life. What was there about him that made him so easy to talk to? If only he was Amish, she thought.

If only…

Chapter Six

F
or nearly an hour, Leah sat motionless in her chair, her eyes fixed on the screen as Daniel led his audience through the narrow alleys and bazaars of foreign cities with names that rolled off his tongue as sweet and sour as Aunt Fannie’s chow-chow. It was nearly impossible for her to keep from weeping as Daniel’s pictures showed the plight of ragged, beggar children, or the ill-fed and overburdened horses and donkeys that fought for space on the crowded streets among the honking flood of dilapidated cars and trucks.

And if the pitiful sights touched Leah’s heart and soul, so too did the hopeful scenes of the clinic where Daniel had assisted volunteer doctors and midwives in offering free medical care to the poor. Equally inspiring was the orphanage and school that the Mennonites supported to provide for homeless children, lost souls who otherwise might have turned to crime to survive.

“In Morocco, we are not allowed to preach or offer any public worship services,” Daniel explained. “Instead, we try to do what good we can in the Lord’s name and attempt to influence people by example.”

He paused for a short break when the talk moved from Morocco to Spain. There, life was much freer for missionaries; they were permitted to move around the country, preach the Gospel, offer educational programs and teach in the schools. Leah was fascinated by the old buildings, the parks and gardens, and the slides of farms, scenic mountains and ocean beaches. Daniel said that he’d liked the Spanish people and had been impressed by their loyalty to family and the sense of history and culture that held a place in every part of their lives.

When the lights came on and Daniel thanked everyone for coming, it took a few seconds for Leah to realize that Susanna was chattering away to her. So absolute was her concentration on Daniel’s world that Miriam had to take hold of her arm before she broke out of her reverie.

“Did you fall asleep?” Miriam asked, teasingly.

“Lemonade,” Susanna repeated. “Pink. Want some?”

Leah met her little sister’s excited gaze. “No. You go on with Miriam.” As the two followed Charley and the Gleaners to the refreshment table, Leah found herself drawn to the desk where Daniel was shutting down his laptop.

“Daniel?”

He glanced up and his face creased in a big smile. “Leah. I hope I didn’t waste your evening.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It was wonderful.
You
were wonderful.”

His green eyes lit up with pleasure. “I’m glad.” He shrugged modestly. “I tend to run on. Speaking’s not really my strong suit. I like the work… What I mean is, this speaking thing wasn’t my idea. But Douglas Wheeler—he’s on the mission board—thought that because I’m younger than most of our speakers and not a pastor that I might attract more teenagers to…” He stopped and chuckled. “There I go again. I told you, I talk too much.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, smiling back at him. “I think you’re…inspiring.”

“It’s nice of you to say so.” He hesitated, carefully wrapping up an electrical cord. “I wondered…”

“Yes?”

Daniel cleared his throat and grimaced, for just a moment looking more like fifteen than however old he really was. “I don’t know if you’d be interested, or if it’s allowed, but on Tuesday, Caroline, Leslie and I are helping out at the food bank in Dover. It’s only open once a week. My aunt usually volunteers there, but she’s having a root canal. Do you think—”

“I’d like to help?” Leah suggested. “I would. Very much.”

“That’s great. It wouldn’t be a problem for you, would it? I mean, your church doesn’t usually allow you to do volunteer work for outsiders.”

“That’s true,” she said, never having thought about it that way before. “But that doesn’t apply to me because I haven’t joined the Amish church yet. I’m allowed to do what I want.” Leah chuckled. “Within reason. And I think that helping out at the food bank would be something I’d like to do.”

“Great.” He laughed. “I said that before, didn’t I?”

“It’s all right.” She suddenly felt shy. “I don’t mind.”

“I think I like you, Leah Yoder.”

She glanced up into his pleasant face and, for a moment, felt giddy, as if the floor had suddenly swayed under her feet. “And I think I like you, Daniel Brown.”

“Good.” His crooked smile widened. “The girls and I will pick you up at twelve-thirty on Tuesday, if that’s okay?” She nodded and he went on. “And wear comfortable shoes. You won’t get a chance to sit down until our shift ends at five.”

* * *

The kitchen clock was striking nine-thirty when Leah, Susanna and Rebecca arrived home to find Mam and Aunt Jezebel waiting up for them. “Oh, you should have come with us!” Leah exclaimed. “It was wonderful! The pictures of Spain and Morocco were beautiful! And Daniel…Daniel is just—”

“Goot!”
Susanna said, bouncing from foot to foot. “I saw camels and monkeys. Silly monkeys.”

Rebecca nodded. “It was fun. And Miriam and Charley agreed it was educational for the young people. The kids loved it, and even Herman Beachy was on his best behavior.”