Temptation (A Temptation Novel) (12 page)

I suddenly felt completely and ridiculously out of place.
But then I caught Sarah’s attention, and without hesitation, she came forward, took my hand and pulled me toward the waiting girls. I inclined my head to watch Sam sauntering toward Noah’s group. Justin met up with Peter and Daniel and they darted off together to join a bunch of boys in the shed. Dad had completely disappeared.

I abruptly realized I was abandoned. If Noah had been with me, I would have been fine, but surrounded by all this strangeness, I felt alone and self-conscious as I forced a smile at the waiting girls.

“This is Rose, our new neighbor,” Sarah told the group, and the orderly wall line folded in around me. Sarah was pretty perky now, and with enthusiasm she began telling me all the girls’ names. If I were tested on them, I would have failed miserably for sure.

A few of the girls’ names and faces did register with me, though. Maretta was a short, pudgy brunette who beamed at me with a huge smile. Suzanna had the palest blue eyes I’d ever seen, with a few wisps of white-blond hair escaping from her cap. She had a devilish grin on her face, making me think that some of these girls might not always be as reserved as they first appeared to be.

Then there was Ella. A feeling of instant dislike struck me when I was introduced to her. She was Katie’s younger sister, and while she wasn’t quite as pretty as Katie, with her doelike hazel eyes, she was close. Unlike her sister, she had a meanness about her that I immediately picked up on—almost as if she hated me, even though she didn’t know me. She put on a friendly show for the others, but something about the way her eyes narrowed and her brows knit together for a fraction of a second told me that she was undeniably no friend of mine.

For the next few minutes, I answered a variety of questions from the curious girls. How old are you? Where did you used to live? How old is your brother (meaning Sam)? Do you drive a car? All of which I responded to simply, keeping my answers short and sweet.

Saving me from the interrogation was a middle-aged woman, also barefoot, ordering the girls to come in and get the tables ready for supper. Sarah tugged on my arm and I joined the succession of girls into the house and down the steps to a vast, fully finished basement.

I had to admit I was impressed, surveying the dozen extra-long tables set up in neat rows and bordered by long, simple wooden benches. The tables were covered with white plastic cloths and the smells floating around the space triggered me to lick my lips.

The girls made their way to a fully appointed kitchen in the corner of the room. Like a very well-oiled assembly line, they began their task. It started with a couple of girls putting ice into the cups, several more pouring the water and then the remaining girls carrying the cups out to the tables, setting them at perfect two-foot intervals.

The women were also working seamlessly together, carrying trays and large pots of food to the buffet-style table at the near side of the room. The sight of about fifteen pies on the end of the table dropped my jaw—chocolate, cherry, apple, cream, to name just a few, were waiting to be cut into.

Yes…I had some issues with Amish society, but the food wasn’t one of them. These ladies knew how to cook and bake. I was anxious to sit down and begin, until I recalled the dining experience with Noah’s family. I breathed heavily, suddenly deflated. Sarah heard me as she walked by and, slowing, she questioned me with her eyes. I smiled slightly and shrugged, following her into the kitchen area where the other girls were lining up neatly, along with the women and little girls.

Silently and working hard to stay motionless, I stood between Sarah and Suzanna, observing the procession of men and boys stroll into the food line. In front were the older ones and Dad was among them, conversing with a long-bearded gentleman I hadn’t seen before. The younger guys were crowded in at the back with some structure but not the organization that the girls exhibited.

Again, I didn’t have to look hard to see Noah. He towered over the other boys. Well, ’cept for Sam, but he was a freak and didn’t count. When Noah walked into the basement, I saw him carefully scan the room, until his eyes met mine. After gracing me with a sly grin, he quickly glanced away. My body heated up at his look, and I willed the blush to stop spreading across my face. At the same time, the pleasurable feeling that Noah had started in me was tantalizing my senses, a trace of the hair on my neck went up, and I was compelled to search down the line of girls, finally meeting Ella’s face. She was staring at me with pure loathing.

Bingo.
Now I got it. Ella had a thing for Noah, and she’d seen the looks he’d been giving me. Unease settled into my bones while I dissected the information. The Amish got married relatively young, and Ella was probably two years older than me, making her all too ready to tie the knot with the best-looking Amish guy in the community, especially with Katie marrying Noah’s brother.

The way she regarded me was bordering on sinister, finally giving me the first taste of what Noah and I were up against. His parents had already given Jacob the green light to marry into that particular family, so they must approve of them. That meant they’d support Katie’s younger sister hooking up with Noah, and probably even push for it if they knew Ella was interested.

So how could Noah possibly pick me? How could a relationship of any kind work at all? Why was I even wasting my time with all these goofy romantic feelings for a guy I was doomed to never be with? But then, my eyes made their way back to him and he was closer now, having moved up in the line, while I’d been distracted. He was joking with Sam about something and they were both laughing. How unfair that was! Sam got to talk to him and stand next to him and look at him, while I was stuck here like a Grecian statue, starving and receiving nasty looks from one of Noah’s admirers.

As if Sam could read my mind, he glanced over at me, and immediately an obnoxious twist appeared on his mouth. Then the jerk had the nerve to raise his hand and wave. I breathed deeply in fury and was close to marching over there and smacking him, when my peripheral sight caught Noah’s eyes, thick with warning. He actually tilted his head a tad and set his jaw—as if he was commanding me to behave.

Before I could act on the violent rage developing in the pit of my being, Sarah took my hand, guiding me along with the other girls to the end of the line. As much as I detested not responding to Sam’s rude display, I did just that, reluctantly being pulled along by Sarah.

After filling my plate, I drifted over to the teenage-girl table, noting that I had more food piled on my plate than any of the other girls. Oh, well, until I started gaining weight, I was going to enjoy all the good cooking I could eat. After all, it was about the only thing these girls were allowed to do.

Funny, the young men’s table was right beside ours, and without even wasting a glance in that direction, I had walked by, feeling not only Noah’s eyes on me, but several other pairs of eyes also. Now sitting with my back to the guy table, I could still sense the penetrating look coming from Noah. To test my supernatural powers of observation, I eyed over my shoulder, subtly as I could manage, and then briskly straightened again after seeing that I was right. Noah was staring at me, sending a shiver through my limbs and a jolt to my heart.

“Do you have a boyfriend, Rose?” It was Suzanna with the same sparkle in her eyes I had seen earlier, bringing me back to my senses.

“Nope—and I don’t want one either,” I said, hoping Noah had heard. I was still miffed that he could control me with a menacing look.

“I’ve heard English girls have multiple boyfriends at once,” Ella commented sarcastically without tearing her attention away from her fried chicken.

“Gee, I have a lot of
English
friends and none of them attempt to juggle more than one boyfriend at a time,” I shot back without thinking. I stared hard at her, hoping she’d raise her face. But she didn’t—lucky for her.

Several of the girls giggled, letting their quiet and reserved demeanor drop for a second.

“Is it true that you dance?” Maretta asked in a hushed voice, as if she feared she’d be overheard. I was happy for the change of subject, though.

Before I answered, the girls all leaned in to me to hear better, paying close attention. I had a flashback to when I was fourteen, and Olivia Hemmer had gone into great detail about her first sexual encounter with her boyfriend to a group of us at a slumber party. This was so bizarre. I was only going to talk about dancing, but these girls were focused on what I was about to say with the same intensity that my friends and I’d had listening to Olivia.

Not wanting to disappoint the crowd, and fighting a grin, I said in a mysterious voice, “Yes, it is true, I’ve been dancing since I was nine.”

“What kind of dancing?” a girl, one whose name I couldn’t remember, asked.

“Oh, mostly ballet and jazz, and I used to be on a dance team. We would travel all around the country competing and winning,” I answered, finishing the last bite of the delicious, creamy peanut-butter pie, which I couldn’t resist eating before the main meal.

This time it was Sarah’s question, again in a whisper. “Is it true that you wear a bikini for the performances?”

Maybe it was the way she asked it or the question itself, but I burst out laughing, causing the loudest noise in the crowded room. Seeing several adult men and women whirl around to locate the source of the noise, I promptly pulled it back in, covering my mouth with my hand.

Clearing my throat, I replied in the calmest voice I could muster, “No, I don’t wear a bikini when I dance. I wear costumes that allow me to move freely.”

“Which translates to something skimpy,” Ella informed the group with mockery.

I really hated her—the way I hated poison ivy or waking up to discover I’d gotten my period. At that moment I wanted to slap the smug grin off her snobby face, and I was pretty close to doing it, but the tiny sensible part of my brain yelled, “Don’t do it, that’s what she wants, to get a reaction from you, so you look bad in front of Noah and all the other Amish.” I could control myself, and I wasn’t going to stoop to this snake’s level.

Ignoring her comment, I said to the others as amicably as possible, “Maybe sometime you all could come to a performance in Cincinnati to see for yourselves.”

“Oh, I don’t think we’d be allowed to do that,” Maretta said quietly.

No surprise there. “Don’t you ever have dances with boys?” Seeing their shocked faces and remembering what Noah had said, I modified the question quickly. “I mean, when you’re all…older?” I fumbled.

“The bishop and the ministers would never allow us to dance with the boys,” Suzanna said with a thick coat of resentment in her voice.

“And who are the bishop and the ministers?” I figured this was a good opportunity to fish for more information about Noah’s life.

“The bishop is the leader of our church and we have three ministers who are right below him. Together they make the rules and decide the punishment if the rules are broken,” Sarah said in a hushed voice after she glanced around first.

The way Sarah anxiously scanned the room put my nerves on edge, but I plowed on with my reconnaissance mission anyway. “If your elders are so strict, how do you go about dating someone?”

Sarah, who I was beginning to see was the Amish teenage-girl equivalent to the president, answered, “When we turn sixteen, we’re old enough to join the church youth group and go to all its functions. When we decide we really like someone—” here she paused and smiled “—enough to marry, we tell our parents. Then the couple has to go before the church with their intentions. Once they officially join the church, then they’re allowed to begin courting.” Speaking about the matter had given her face a healthy pink blush.

That’s complicated, I pondered. Then something occurred to me, prompting me to ask, “Do you mean…that you’re not allowed to date someone unless you want to marry that person and then you’re forced to join the church first?” The entire premise was distorted and sounded more like sexual bribery to me.

“Yes, that’s the way it works,” Sarah said smoothly.

I concentrated on what she said for over for a minute. After sipping some water, I ventured another question. “What are you allowed to do when you’re courting—I mean, do you get to ever be alone and, you know…make out?”

All the girls, except the wicked Ella, giggled and blushed deeply, including Sarah, whose skin was a darker shade of pink now, almost red, poor thing. She answered, “Well, we see each other at the youth functions and family activities…and…every Sunday, when a couple are courting, the boy goes to the girl’s house in the evening.” She paused and swiftly glanced around again before lowering her body over the table. I had to lean in close to hear her whisper, “And then the parents go to bed around ten or eleven o’clock and the couple gets some alone time. ’Cept our community has a
hands-off
policy for courting.”