Holding a Tender Heart (2 page)

No doubt the Beiler influence had something to do with it. Debbie had felt drawn to their farm ever since she could remember. She would head over there for any reason she could find. She'd always loved the smell and sounds of the place in the summertime when the hayfields were cut, the barnyard was clean, and the horses leaned over the fences. In the evening the cows mooed as milking time approached and they meandered up from the pasture. It was life as close to heaven on earth as she'd ever known.

She would often run over when Verna and Ida, the oldest Beiler girls, came out to chore. They would make sure she was comfortably seated on a three-legged milking stool while they bustled about the barn. Wayne and Reuben, the two oldest brothers of the family, had mostly ignored her. To them she was just the curious
Englisha
girl from next door who sometimes hung around…obviously having no chores to do at her own home.

Lois, the third Beiler daughter, had shown no end of fascination with Debbie's
Englisha
life. On Saturdays Lois would play with her in the yard and pepper her with questions about her world. What was it like to wear pretty dresses? Did it hurt to put holes in your ears for earrings? As the two girls grew up, questions had continually arisen, especially when Debbie neared the age of driving a car.
Lois had almost swooned at the news that her friend would attend college. These were all things Debbie had talked about reluctantly, especially after she caught on that Lois only asked such questions when she was sure her
daett
, Bishop Beiler, was out of earshot. But that didn't keep Lois from asking more questions. And their differences didn't end there. Lois stayed inside during chore time so she could help with the supper preparations. She was a born cook and didn't like barn life as much as Debbie didn't like kitchens. They couldn't have been more different if they'd tried.

Down through the years, Debbie's friendship with Verna and Ida had grown deeper. For several years all three Beiler girls had come over for occasional overnight visits, but those had stopped when it became obvious to Bishop Beiler how much Lois loved the
Englisha
life. Thankfully, the bishop hadn't blamed Debbie for Lois's fascination with all things
Englisha.

Now Verna and Ida were out of their traditional
rumspringa
time and had joined the church. Whether this was from their father's orders or their own choices, Debbie had never been able to ascertain. Lois was at the tail end of her
rumspringa
time. She still hadn't joined the Amish church, even though she'd just turned twenty-one. And she showed no inclination to join either—at least that Debbie had heard of. The only thing holding Lois back from plunging ahead into the
Englisha
world was the deep respect she, along with her two sisters, had for her father's position in the community. How long that would restrain Lois, Debbie could only wonder.

Thankfully Bishop Beiler hadn't known everything that had transpired when Lois visited her house. She'd stayed up most of the nights listening to music, watching television, and trying her hand at using the electric kitchen appliances—all things never found in an Amish home.

Debbie slowed down to pull into her parents' driveway. As she parked the car, she paused for a moment to gaze across the field toward the Beiler farm. In the late-afternoon light the scene was
peaceful, like it was always, the red barn still gleaming from last year's paint job. Emery, the youngest Beiler boy, had seen to that. He was full of youthful energy and well into his
rumspringa
. He likely didn't want his reputation tarnished by a fading homestead.

Wayne and Reuben were long married now and had children of their own, but sometimes on Sunday afternoons they came home for a visit. Marriage prospects for the Beiler daughters seemed less promising. None of the three had dated yet, but Debbie didn't feel comfortable asking why. Lois not dating, she could understand. The youngest Beiler daughter didn't want to settle down with an Amish boy—and likely never would. But Verna and Ida were another matter. Both of them were decent looking and nice, so the problem had to be something else.

Debbie sighed as her gaze shifted from the barn to the well-kept Beiler house. Oh, what she wouldn't give to be there right now! If only she and Lois could trade places—that would make both of them happy. Perhaps she should march over to the Beiler farm and offer to switch places with Lois. That would provoke a hearty laugh from Bishop Beiler—until he thought her words through. His laughter would stop then. Bishop Beiler didn't plan to lose a single one of his children to the world.

It was enough for Debbie that he tolerated her visits all these years, apparently never seeing her as a threat. Did he perhaps understand her heart? Was that why he'd put up with her hanging around so much? She'd practically grown up with his children. She'd even picked up enough of the Pennsylvania Dutch language so she could get the gist of what they were saying part of the time, though she still couldn't speak it. She had to be careful lest Bishop Beiler see her as an interloper, Debbie mused. The girl who'd crept in where she didn't belong. Oh, if only she
could
belong! But that wasn't possible. She was who she was. She would continue to fail to fit in with her own world. She would continue to feel shut out, lonely, and different.

Debbie got out of her car and went into the house. Silence enveloped her—only it wasn't the silence of an Amish home. In the kitchen the refrigerator rattled, and she heard a load of ice drop inside the freezer. The home's heating system whirred as it poured warm air into the room. But the starkest difference was the lack of people. Debbie's mom had a job and wouldn't be back until late. Her dad was working at their garage in town. He spent every weekday and even some weekends there. This was how it always had been and apparently always would be. There was a continuance of sorts, but a continuance of monotony, not the ebb and flow of life that happened over at the Beilers'.

Debbie walked to the back patio doors and looked toward the Beilers' farm. The wash line was empty. If this were a Monday, Ida would have laundry strung up, flapping in the wind until dry enough to take inside. Debbie could see it now in her memory. Mostly long lines of dark-blue and white clothing sprinkled occasionally with lighter colors. The bright spots would be Lois's dresses, no doubt. Lois pushed the
Ordnung
rules until they stretched like rubber bands. But Debbie knew Lois could take things only so far because she was the bishop's daughter. That had been confirmed once during an overnight visit. Lois had collapsed into giggles by the time she was done with the tale, but Debbie had listened in horror, which had only increased Lois's delight.

As Lois's story went, one afternoon after a shopping trip to Mifflinburg with Ida, Lois had snuck a few yards of light-green material into the house. She'd begun making a dress in secret down in the basement, working late at night after her
mamm
and
daett
were in bed. She'd draped the whole contraption, plus herself, in two of their thickest quilts to muffle the sound of the sewing machine. For light, Lois had set a gas lantern on the concrete floor. But her mother had discovered the project before Lois could sneak out of the house with the dress on and head for a youth social. Her
daett
had put his foot down, which had, of course, undone all of Lois's hard work.

Debbie's sympathies were clearly on Bishop Beiler's side, and she'd told Lois so.

That admission had provoked an outburst of astonishment from Lois. How could one not enjoy the
Englisha
life with such opportunities as dressing in beautiful colors at one's fingertips? Debbie's view was clearly beyond Lois's comprehension.

Well, it was beyond Debbie's understanding how one couldn't love the Amish world. Especially if one had been born into it.

With one last glance toward her neighbors' farm, Debbie retreated to the kitchen and tossed her purse on the table. As if the bounce had made the cell phone inside come alive, it began to ring. Debbie dug into her purse and glanced at the incoming number. It was Doug Williams. She almost let the phone continue to ring, but Doug would expect an answer. She'd avoided him all week, but that couldn't go on forever.

“Hello,” she said, holding the phone to her ear.

“Debbie?” Doug's voice sounded surprised.

She laughed. “Not expecting me to answer, huh?”

“Well, I never know with you.”

“There's no law saying you have to call, Doug.”

He sighed. “Look, Debbie, please stop playing games. You know I'd like to go out with you this weekend. Maybe Friday or Saturday night? Or after the graduation ceremony maybe? A nice restaurant back here in Lewistown. Or whatever you want.”

“You leave plenty of options, don't you, Doug?”

“That's because I want to see you, Debbie. I really do.”

Debbie took a moment to answer. “I don't know if I can, Doug. There will be a lot going on with me…you know…graduating.”

His voice hesitated. “Debbie, are you seeing someone else? Is that why you're avoiding me?”

She laughed. “No, of course not! Who would want to see me?” Maybe that was a bit over the top, but right now that was how she felt. No one, including Doug, would want to be with her if they
knew what she was really like. He'd hung around for a year or so now, taking her out on occasional dates. He said he wanted a deeper relationship, but she had stalled.

Debbie pressed the phone harder against her ear. Doug must have said something she hadn't caught because she could hear irritation as he asked, “Debbie, are you still there?”

She cleared her throat. “Yes, just thinking.”

“What's so hard about going out with me?” he teased. “I'm a nice guy. Surely you know that by now. You'd enjoy yourself.”

“Okay.” Debbie sighed. “Where shall it be?” She sounded like she was giving in, and Doug would count chickens where they didn't exist, but that couldn't be helped.

Doug's voice brightened. “How about somewhere where we can talk? Perhaps Andrea's Pizzeria? At six on Saturday night?”

She didn't hesitate this time. “Okay, I'll see you then.” When they hung up, Debbie wondered if it was fair to not just tell him flat out they had no future together. But how did one say, “It's not going to work for us” face-to-face…or, worse, over the phone? And yet she did care about Doug. He
was
nice, but…

Her mind went back to last spring. She'd caught sight of a young Amish man as he cultivated his corn crop, and she'd felt…drawn to him. But was it to him or to his Amish life? She'd seen him again during the summer and had experienced the same feelings as she watched him cut his hay. Then in the fall, she'd seen him hauling manure. His spreader had bounced across the rough, plowed ground. By then she knew his name was Alvin Knepp.

He was, as far as she knew, unmarried. She'd heard his father was the poorest Amish farmer around. “The Knepps,” Lois had said, “are poor in both farming methods and in money.” But Debbie didn't care about those things. Wasn't that exactly what she wanted to get away from? Was that why she often caught herself daydreaming about a certain Amish man?

Alvin exuded a rugged goodness that drew her heart in a way she
didn't understand. And she didn't even know him! She'd had only fleeting glimpses every so often. What would it be like to speak to him? Debbie drew in her breath at the thought. Alvin wore a tattered and torn hat most of the time. Maybe that was all he could afford. Either way, he made a striking figure as he worked. How he appeared on Sundays she didn't know, having never attended an Amish church service. But it couldn't be worse than on workdays. Likely he cleaned up well. She laughed at the thought. What did it matter? He was clearly out of her reach.

How on earth was she supposed to tell Doug all that? He would think her insane, and he would probably be right. Somehow she needed to get past this fascination with a life that could never be hers.

Two

T
he next morning Debbie slept in later than usual. She arose to find that both of her parents had already left for work. After a leisurely breakfast, she changed into her gray-striped dress, affecting what she hoped was a classy business look for her job interview. She smiled at the irony that this clerical job was one she might have been able to get even without a college degree. Why did she even go to college!