The Amish Bride (19 page)

“Pretty much,” I answered.

“Boyfriend problems?”

“Sort of.”

“The Amish kid?”

I nodded.

Penny was silent for a moment, but a look of sympathy spread across her face. Then she gestured back toward the kitchen. “I’d like to cook you dinner tonight, as a welcoming meal. Would you be my guest?”

“Sure. Thanks.” I wondered why I felt uncomfortable. “May I help?”

She smiled. “Oh, no. I hate to have company in the kitchen. We’ll eat at six.”

“Okay, thanks. That sounds like fun.” I retreated toward my room. I’d never spent the night in anyone’s home who wasn’t Mennonite or Amish, let alone lived with them. Why hadn’t I thought of that when I decided to rent a room? I hadn’t even shared a meal with anyone that wasn’t Anabaptist. I’d only gone to a classmate’s home a handful of times in all my years of school, and that was to work on a project together, not to socialize
or stay for dinner. I hadn’t realized what a sheltered life I’d lived until that moment.

When I came down for dinner, Penny had the dining room table set with china and crystal goblets filled with what looked like cranberry juice. A basket of homemade rolls, a plate of grilled asparagus, and green salad with arugula were on the table.

“Right on time,” Penny said as she came through the door with a platter. In the middle were two pieces of beef.

As we sat down, she explained the meat was rib-eye steak. “I don’t fix it for just myself,” she said. “It’s nice to have someone to share it with.”

I placed the linen napkin in my lap and waited to see if she would say a blessing. She didn’t. I said a quick one with my eyes open, not wanting to draw attention.

The steak was delicious. “What sort of a marinade did you use?”

“It’s a soy sauce–orange juice mix.” She seemed pleased I liked it.

I told her about cooking sirloin steak, a tougher cut, in the Dutch oven back home with vegetables, and how that tenderized it right up.

Next we talked about the roasted asparagus and then her homemade salad dressing, a vinaigrette with regular mustard. I never would have guessed. She smiled at my praise. Clearly, I’d found a fellow chef. I told her about the baking school and asked if she’d heard of it.

“Oh, I’ve been to Petit Paris,” she said, pronouncing Paris with the long
e
sound on the end, the French way. “It’s one of my favorite cafés in South Bend.” She squinted. “You know, I remember hearing that they offered cooking classes, but I never thought of it as an actual cooking school.”

“I don’t think it’s accredited. I know they don’t take many students at a time,” I said. “At least that’s what the website indicated. I never did receive a packet, although I asked them to mail one here too.”

“Why are you interested if it’s not accredited?”

“I want to open a bakery someday, back in Lancaster. I don’t need a degree to do that, just the knowledge.”

“I’ll keep my eye out for it.” She was quiet for a long moment and then said, “I’d be interested to find out more too. I could even give you a ride if you like.”

I thanked her for the offer and told her I would let her know.

After I helped clean up, I said I was going up to my room.

“I can give you a ride to work in the morning,” she said.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll walk. It will help me wake up.” I started to leave the kitchen but stopped in the doorway. “I was thinking I should buy a bike. Once I get my first paycheck.” I didn’t want to dip into my savings.

“I have an old one in the garage. I’m sure I’ll never ride it again. I’ll pull it out and leave it on the patio. You’ll have to dust it off, maybe shoot air into the tires, but I’ll leave the hand pump out there for you. Otherwise it should be okay. It doesn’t have rust or broken chains or anything like that.”

“Wow. Thanks, Penny.”

As I headed up the stairs, it struck me how much easier my life would be if I had a car and a driver’s license. At seventeen I was old enough now to get one, but I’d never even taken the classes. I knew Mom would never pay for my insurance or my gas, and I doubted she would have let me borrow her car all that often anyway, so it had always seemed a nonissue back home. Now that I was out here, it probably still wasn’t worth pursuing, I realized, because even if I got the license, I couldn’t afford the other stuff. Besides, why go through all of that just to give it up when I joined the Amish church anyway?

It had been a fun evening, but as I entered my room I wondered what Mom and Zed were up to. Maybe they were out with Freddy. Or visiting
Mammi
. Then again,
Mammi
was most likely asleep at this hour.

I slumped down onto the bed, evaluating how my plan was going. The housing situation was good. So was the job—at least so far. Missing Zed and even Mom wasn’t so good. Neither was the situation with Ezra.

I texted Ezra back.
I really am sorry. At the time I was being really careful not to lie, but I can now see I tricked you. Please forgive me.

The next morning I rode Penny’s bike, a one-speed with a comfy seat, to work in the predawn light. As I came through the doorway, I was greeted by a woman who introduced herself as Kendra. She was tall, taller than Wes, and walked with confidence. Her blond hair was piled on the top of her head, which added another three inches to her height, and her heels were at least two inches high. I felt like a dowdy dweeb next to her.
I guessed that without her hair and heels, she was probably a few inches shorter than her husband.

She showed me around the dining hall and kitchen. I was to spend the day bussing tables, and then I’d start waitressing the next day.

I wasn’t surprised when Penny came in around eight, ordered breakfast, ate it, and then told us all a cheery goodbye without engaging me in conversation. But I could tell she was happy to see me and pleased I was working at her favorite breakfast place.

By then the rush was long over and Kendra was scrubbing tables and I was filling the ketchup bottles.

“That Penny,” Kendra said.

I expected her to elaborate, and when she didn’t, I said, “What about her?”

“Oh, she comes in here every day, just like clockwork. I think she’s lonely.” Kendra smiled. “Not that I’m not happy for her business and her friendship. She’s a great gal. I just think she’s a little lost with her husband leaving the way he did.” Kendra started for the kitchen. “I can’t imagine…”

I finished with the ketchup and moved on to the salt and pepper shakers, thinking about Penny. I couldn’t fathom living alone like that, cooking by myself, going out to eat by myself. Well, not when I was in my fifties, anyway. I hoped that wouldn’t be the way Mom’s life would be when Zed left. All alone in that cottage. She couldn’t work forever.

In the midafternoon a young Amish man came into the restaurant. He held his straw hat in one hand and a slip of paper in the other. When he spotted me, his gray eyes lit up.

“Ella?”

I nodded and stepped toward him, a bussing tub in my hands.

He was tall, much taller than Ezra, and had dark hair with his bangs cut straight across in the typical Amish fashion. He smiled shyly, showing a pair of dimples on his lean face. He looked to be around twenty, but by the style of his hair I’d guess he’d already joined the church.

“I’m Luke,” he said. “Luke Kline. Ezra sent me.” His face was flushed as he extended his hand.

“Oh.” I put the tub on a table, wiped my hands on my apron, and shook his hand, noting its roughness. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

He nodded in agreement and then handed me the slip of folded paper. “Ezra’s cell phone died.”

My heart sank, wondering if he’d be able to get another one.

I opened the note.
I’m not allowed to charge my phone here—even though there’s a generator in the barn. Will is coming Friday. He wants to see you. Got your last text—I read it before the battery ran out. I still can’t figure out what you were thinking to lie to me—and to your mom.

I looked up at Luke.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“I think so.” I gestured toward a table. “Would you like a cup of coffee? A piece of pie? My treat for delivering the note.”

He shook his head. “I need to get going.” He started toward the door and then stopped, turning around quickly. “I’m sorry things didn’t turn out the way you wanted.” His last statement stabbed at my heart, and I wondered how much Ezra had told him. But I was grateful for his words. He hurried through the open door, pulling his hat onto his head, wheeling his bike to the street, and hopping on as soon as he had it over the curb. I waved from the open door, wondering if I’d see him again.

When I turned around, Kendra was standing in the middle of the room, a smile on her face.

“Cute guy,” she said.

I blushed.

“And your religion.”

I shook my head. “He’s Amish.”

“Close enough.”

“I just met him,” I said. “This minute. Plus, I already have a boyfriend.” I didn’t add “maybe” or that he was also Amish.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter.” Kendra laughed. “Ask Wes.”

“You had a boyfriend when the two of you met?”

“No. He had a girlfriend that he’d dated all through high school.”

“Oh.”

“Ask him sometime.” She threw her head back and laughed. “Hey, Wes. Come here a minute.”

I blushed. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to Wes about his past love interests.

He appeared, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Tell Ella about how I stole you away from your girlfriend.”

He reached for his wife, putting his hand around her waist and pulling her toward him.

“What’s there to tell? One look at you was all it took.” He kissed her on the lips and headed back to the kitchen.

“He left out a few details,” Kendra said.

“I guessed that,” I answered, smiling. They were awfully cute. It was obvious how much they loved each other.

My shift ended ten minutes later. I retrieved my purse and cape and stepped out onto the sidewalk as a light rain fell. I pulled my hood onto my head as Luke’s parting words rolled around in my head.

He was sorry things didn’t turn out the way I’d wanted them to.

I climbed onto the bike, pushed down on the pedal, and settled onto the seat as I did. Now I had no way to reach Ezra. I desperately wanted to talk with him before Will came. I imagined Will chastising both of us together, and the two of us presenting a united front. I imagined Ezra standing up to Will, telling him to back off.

I steered the bike onto the street, staying as close to the parked cars as I could, wobbling a little as a car passed me.

Then again, maybe Luke knew something I didn’t.

I
showed my box to Penny that evening as she sat in the living room, telling her the address of the house and asking if she was familiar with it. She said she’d lived in or around Nappanee her entire life and had never seen a house like it.

“I would definitely remember this place,” she said.

She seemed a little overconfident, but I didn’t say so.

“It may have burned down,” she added. “Back when the Amish used kerosene, their houses burned down all the time. Now with gas and propane, from what I understand, there aren’t nearly as many fires.”

Some sort of house had to be there, or at least the bakery and outbuildings. I’d seen structures through the trees on Google Earth.

She took off her apple-red reading glasses and twirled them in her hand. “I can drive you out that way sometime, though, just to see what we can find.”

I thanked her and mentioned the bakery I found online.

“That doesn’t ring a bell either, but there are scads of little businesses around—shingle businesses. Someone puts out a sign and, voilà, a business!” She threw her hand up as she spoke. “But let’s go visit. I’d love to find a new place to buy pastries.”

Not only had she volunteered to take me to South Bend to visit the cooking school, but she was also willing to take me to the bakery too. The woman was kind and generous. This living arrangement was turning out to be quite nice. Sure, I’d rather be driving myself to find the Home Place and to South Bend, but God was good to provide a driver.