An Unexpected Match Read online

  “So was I,” Rachel said. “And you seemed so cool and happy. I was glad someone so positive wanted to spend time with me.”

  Rob nodded. “I’d just visited my father and had an accident on the way home. I was tense and tight and needed that chance to relax and remember life could be normal after all.”

  “Huh,” Win said. “I was probably playing Halo III with some guys from Japan or something, but I’d have come if I’d been invited.”

  “If I’d have known about you, I’d have invited you,” Amy said. “And you’re invited from now on.”

  “I’ll happily leave the Japanese guys for time with you.” Win turned and grinned at Amy.

  Rob looked at Rachel in the rearview mirror and rolled his eyes.

  Chapter 20

  Sunday morning was brisk, so Rachel grabbed the black shawl her sister Sally had knitted for her for Christmas. She wrapped it around her shoulders as she left the house. She’d doubtless shed it as the day progressed and the temperature rose, but it’d feel good in the meantime.

  She walked to the end of the drive and waited for Abe and Emma Beiler, her brother-in-law and sister-in-law, who stopped for her on church Sundays so she didn’t have to get her own horse from his comfy stall and pull the buggy from its shelter at the other end of the small barn. Since Aaron’s death, Abe and Emma had taken her under their wing. Since they had no children of their own, Rachel sometimes felt she was their substitute child even if she was only two years younger than Emma.

  Emma held a Tupperware container of pickled eggs, their crimson showing through the opaque plastic. On the backseat beside Rachel was another Tupperware container holding two pies. Rachel balanced her offerings for the post-service meal on her knee, the spicy cinnamon scent of the homemade applesauce fighting the acrid smell of fresh tomatoes sliced yesterday evening before she went to bed so there’d be no food preparation on the Sabbath.

  As they pulled up to the Zook farm, Abe stopped to let the women out before taking the buggy behind the barn where the Zook boys would serve as hostlers for the day.

  “Uh-oh, Rachel,” Emma whispered as she watched a round woman with several small children in tow. “Ada has the toys to keep the children quiet during service in a paper bag again. We must be careful not to sit by her or we’ll never hear the sermon over the rattle of the bag.”

  “Emma!” Rachel bit her tongue so she wouldn’t laugh.

  Emma looked unrepentant. “You know it’s true.”

  They put their food in the kitchen and took seats in the women’s section as far from Ada as they could. Emma with the married women, Rachel with the single women.

  Rachel loved the Gmay. She watched the benches fill with the one hundred and twenty or so in her district. These were the people she’d known her whole life, the people who knew her.

  As the song leader called out the first song and the congregation began to sing slowly and in unison, Rachel sang along as her heart was torn.

  What do I do? What should I do?

  The first hymn ended and someone began Loblied, the traditional second hymn of every service. As the melody of praise slowly rose, Rachel thought on the words, especially the words about being devout and undeceived.

  I am not devout. I am not humble. I am not godly. But I love Gott with all my heart and I want to be good.

  To make matters worse, she knew Communion was coming soon. What would she do when it was time to affirm her commitment to Amish life, not just belief in Jesus but agreement with the Ordnung? She had fudged when all she was doing was taking classes online. She’d convinced herself such behavior wasn’t all that wrong.

  She studied her hands folded in her lap. Fudged? She’d lied. She hadn’t been keeping the Ordnung then. And what about now?

  Now she was going to Englisch college and wearing Englisch clothes, driving a car, and if she were totally honest, becoming attracted to an Englisch man. How could she affirm her commitment to the Gmay?

  She looked around the room at these people she’d known all her life. She didn’t want to lose them. She didn’t want to lose this life. She knew what she should do.

  But even as she sang and prayed, she knew she was going to class the very next night and out to the Star with Amy and Rob. She thought of the words Paul had written in the book of Romans centuries ago: Oh, wretched man that I am.

  After service and the community meal, she staked a spot at the sink and washed everyone’s dishes so she didn’t have to deal with the attentions of any of the men. Her nails had never been so clean.

  Eventually Abe and Emma took her home.

  “Do you want me to mow your lawn for you? I could come tomorrow night,” Abe said as Rachel and her empty dishes exited the buggy.

  “Thank you, Abe, but I can do it. It doesn’t take long.” Her little push mower clipped the grass neatly as she walked it around the yard.

  “But school has started and you must be so busy.”

  Rachel smiled. Abe was worrying too much about her again. “It has, but I’m fine. I have plenty of time. I thank you for the offer though.”

  After Abe and Emma disappeared from view and she took her dishes inside, Rachel walked down the road to Mom and Datt’s house. The exercise felt good, but if she was honest with herself, she needed her parents. She felt so fragile inside, she needed their secure love.

  As she neared the house, Levi came out of the barn riding one of the horses. He trotted down the lane toward her and stopped beside her. His brown hair hung below his black hat and his shirt tail was hanging out on one side. He seemed taller every time she saw him.

  “Levi, why are you riding? It’s the Sabbath.”

  He grinned at her. “I’m going to get a saddle with my produce stand money. Did you know the outhouses I’ve been building are making me a lot of money? The tourists love them. I don’t know what they do with them after they buy them, but I don’t really care.”

  “You’re getting a saddle? What do you think you are? A cowboy?”

  “I want to compete at the rodeo at the Yoders.”

  Rachel blinked. “The Yoders have a rodeo?”

  “Every Thursday. You should go. You can watch Ruthie barrel race.”

  “Ruthie? Our Ruthie?” She tried to picture her demure little sister astride a horse and had a hard time. Imagining her racing around barrels was even harder. And what about modesty?

  “Amish don’t do rodeos.”

  “We may be the only ones who do,” he said proudly.

  “Pride, Levi.”

  “Yep.” He grinned at her.

  “Is this to be your running around?”

  “Levi.” Mom’s voice was loud and clear. “I don’t think that’s currying the horse.”

  He grinned at Rachel. “Oops.”

  She grinned back. “Better get to it before Datt catches you.”

  “He’ll never notice. He’s reading the paper.”

  She laughed as she trailed him up the lane where she found Mom sitting in her rocker on the porch, her shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

  Rachel took the chair beside her and they enjoyed the peace of the dying day together.

  The silence was broken by the sound of an automobile coming up the lane.

  “Who could that be? Tourists on the Sabbath?” Mom scowled.

  “Only one car is that bad, Mom.” Rachel smiled as Johnny’s pathetic excuse for a vehicle pulled to a stop in front of the barn.

  Mom got to her feet with a hand over her heart. “Oh, my! Datt, come out. Johnny is here.”

  Datt wouldn’t come. Both Rachel and Mom knew it. He was always glad to see his wayward son on his infrequent visits, but he never rushed to him like Mom did. After all, Johnny had left. It was his responsibility to come to Datt, not the other way around.

  Johnny strolled to the porch, his jeans low on his slim hips. He had on a short-sleeved plaid shirt, the kind that always made Rachel think Mennonite farmer. But Johnny was no Mennonite. He wasn’t much of anything as f
ar as she knew.

  What the shirt indicated was that he’d dressed for the visit. Usually he wore old T-shirts with logos like Harley Davidson and Budweiser, John Deere and International Harvester.

  So dressed up why? Johnny was her brother and she loved him, but he always had an angle. And he could be sly.

  “Johnny.” Mom kept her voice calm though Rachel knew her heart was pounding. Johnny was here. “I’m so glad to see you. Have a seat. Rachel will get you a glass of lemonade.”

  Johnny grinned as he sat. “I’d love that. I love your lemonade.”

  As Rachel rose, she thought flatterer. She walked inside. Datt quickly raised Die Botschaft as if he hadn’t been straining to hear what was being said on the porch.

  “Johnny’s here,” she announced as if he didn’t know. “I’m getting him some lemonade. Want a glass?”

  Datt didn’t say anything.

  “Come join us on the porch.”

  “Did you know the Reihls have a new daughter named Anna Mae?”

  Rachel looked at Datt in exasperation. “I didn’t.”

  “And Willis Yapp is in bed with sciatica.”

  Rachel sighed. German stubbornness. She carried Johnny’s lemonade to him and settled to hear what he had to say. Whatever it was, she doubted that he’d be open about it. He’d back into it in his own time.

  “How’s the trailer?” Rachel asked. “Do I need to come and clean it again?”

  Johnny shrugged. “It’s a roof over my head.”

  “You should come home, Johnny,” Mom said. “You know we’d love to have you.”

  “I love visiting the farm,” he said, and Rachel thought, here we go. He was buttering her up for whatever was on his mind. He hated the farm. At least that’s what he’d been saying for years.

  “It’s so peaceful here.” He looked out over the barnyard with an affectionate—and to Rachel, suspicious—expression.

  It was peaceful here unless you counted the tensions of weather and crop failure and heavy-duty labor and equipment that always needed repair and livestock that always needed feeding and milking and….

  Mom nodded agreement.

  He wants to come home. The thought popped into Rachel’s mind and almost knocked her off her chair. She’d been expecting a request for money or something like that, but no. He wanted to be back on the farm. But why? She doubted he liked farming now any more than he had when he left all those years ago.

  Johnny stood. “I think I’ll go in and say hi to Datt. I bet he’s reading the paper, right?”

  “You know him,” Mom said.

  Johnny let himself into the house and Rachel heard him greet Datt and Datt’s gruff hello.

  “It’s always so good to see him,” Mom said. “I worry about him, and when he comes, then I know he’s still all right.”

  Rachel nodded. Be careful, she wanted to say. Something’s up. He’s got an ulterior motive. Mom, who was as aboveboard as could be, wouldn’t see hidden agendas. Even Datt, who was more worldly because of his business dealings with the Englisch, would probably not see through Johnny.

  What did it say about her that she could? Was she sly too? Or worldly?

  It shamed her to admit that yes, she was worldly and becoming more so every day.

  “Did you hear his comments about the farm? Do you think he’s ready to come home?” To Mom coming home was shorthand for assuming his Amish identity, complete with taking his vows.

  “Liking the farm is still a long way from returning to the Gmay,” Rachel cautioned.

  “I know,” Mom said, but Rachel could see the hope rising in her.

  To Rachel’s amazement, Johnny struggled through a full fifteen minutes with Datt. She couldn’t imagine what they talked about given their lack of converging activities and thoughts, but she had to give him credit for persevering. She smiled at him as he came back out, expecting him to leave, but he surprised her and took a seat beside Mom again.

  “Datt told me about some man named Reuben Miller in Iowa,” he told Mom.

  “Maybe a relative?” Mom said.

  Johnny shrugged. “Who knows. There are too many Amish Millers to count, and we’re probably all related somehow. Anyway he was having trouble with two horses that wouldn’t get along. One kept biting and kicking the other, so he tied them together face-to-face. They were too close to bite or kick. Did you ever hear such a thing?”

  “I did not,” Mom said. “You shouldn’t make up stories, especially on the Sabbath.”

  “I didn’t make it up. It was in Die Botschaft. If it’s a story, then Rueben Miller made it up.”

  “He would never, not for the paper.” Mom looked offended on Rueben Miller’s behalf even though she didn’t know him, or maybe it was the reputation of the newspaper she felt strongly about. “So how does the story end?”

  “After the horses stared at each other, ears back, for a while, Rueben turned them loose in the pasture and chased them. They ran together, then raced each other. He did the same thing a couple of more times, and now they get along. He wondered if people who didn’t get along would benefit from the same treatment.” Johnny’s grin was wide.

  Mom slapped gently at his arm. “I must read that story for myself.”

  “Walk inside and Datt’ll tell you all about it.”

  “That is why I sit out here. I’ll read it for myself.”

  Rachel listened and squirmed. Whatever Johnny was up to, she didn’t want him to hurt her parents.

  The door flew open and Abner walked out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Service was long for him, and he always took a nap on meeting Sundays though he didn’t most other days.

  “I don’t want a nap,” he’d usually say. “I’m four.” Every day but meeting Sundays.

  He spotted Johnny’s lemonade glass. “I’m thirsty.”

  “Hey, guy.” Johnny held out his hand down by his knee.

  Abner studied it a minute, then walked over and brought his chubby little boy’s hand down on Johnny’s hard adult one. “High five, Johnny.”

  “That’s a low five, kid, because our hands are down low.”

  Abner frowned. “High five?”

  Johnny raised his hand so Abner had to go on tiptoe to reach it. Abner slapped it again and giggled. “High five.”

  “High five,” Johnny agreed as Abner leaned against his knee. The little boy looked at Mom and Rachel. “Lemonade?”

  Chapter 21

  Friday Rachel walked to her car in the Star’s lot feeling cheerful and happy in spite of the rain. Another week had passed, and it had been good. Both Monday and tonight Dr. Dyson wove a rich tapestry of ideas and thoughts in new patterns and designs; concepts Rachel could think about for hours.

  In her real life she enjoyed her school kids more every day, teaching the little ones, trying to challenge the older ones. It could get tricky at times, like when one of the older boys asked, “Where did you get those pictures of galaxies like that? I want to see more.” She couldn’t answer, “The internet,” though that was where she found them. Fortunately she had a library book with similar pictures she could show him.

  “See you, Rachel,” Amy called as she ran through the weather to her little car. “I’ll give you a call about doing something tomorrow night.”

  Rachel tried to balance her backpack and her umbrella so she’d have a free hand to wave. As she did, she realized her backpack was unzipped and the AlphaSmart Amy had been playing with was back in the Star.

  “Rats.” She turned and started back to the diner.

  “Forget something?” Rob asked, half in, half out of his car.

  “I left the AlphaSmart on the table.”

  She ran through the puddles and stood dripping on the rug just inside the diner’s door. Betts was carrying her AlphaSmart to the front desk.

  “I figured you’d be back sooner rather than later.” She held it out to Rachel.

  “Thanks, Betts.” Rachel tucked it carefully into her backpack and zipped it closed.
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  “Drive carefully. It’s a nasty night.”

  She ran back to her car, her umbrella keeping her dry at least from the waist up. She pulled open the door and climbed in, trying without success to close the umbrella without getting wet. She dropped it in the passenger foot well. She slid in the key, turned it, and the motor caught. So much easier than getting Rusty all hooked up and making the poor animal trot down the road in the rain.

  She headed for the exit and frowned. Something was wrong. The car wasn’t responding as it should. The wheel pulled and the steering felt strange.

  She threw the gear into park and climbed out, once again holding her umbrella over her head. What should she do? If there was something wrong with the motor, she was helpless. Or was it a flat tire? That wasn’t as mysterious as a motor issue, but she would be just as helpless. Max had never taught her that part of having a car, and she’d never thought about it. For a smart person, she’d been very dumb.

  She walked slowly around the car and found the problem. The front passenger side tire was flat.

  She stared at it, then at the cars in the lot, and finally she scanned the diner. Patsy, Betts, and two other servers, both women, were in there as well as some hearty patrons who had braved the weather. Did any of them know how to change a tire? She made a face. She couldn’t ask them, not in this weather. She wouldn’t have the nerve even if the sun was shining and the birds singing. It was too presumptive.

  She went to the trunk. That’s where tire changing stuff was kept, right? She hated the feeling of helplessness. She hated the feeling of inadequacy.

  She hit the icon on the key fob that showed a picture of a car with the trunk lid up. There was a click as the lock disengaged and the lid started to rise. When it stopped, she lifted it the rest of the way. She leaned forward to protect the interior from the rain and examined the contents. There was a tire. Good. The only difficulty was she had no idea how to get the bad one off and the good one on.

  Rob would know. She should call him and he could tell her step-by-step.