Lorie's Heart (10 page)

He shook his head and held the door open for her.

She smiled at him again, and the effect was nearly tangible. He felt the gesture all the way to his toes, the tips of his fingers, and all spots in between.

“Hi, Zach,” Amber said as they made their way across the tiled foyer. “Lorie.” Surprise lit in her eyes before she quickly covered it up again. He wondered if it was because of Lorie's clothes or the fact that she was with him. Then again, she had worn these very same clothes the last time she'd come to visit. “You're not scheduled today.”

“No, I'm here on other business.” Let her make of that what she would. He'd told Lorie that he would help her and that's exactly what he would do.

“Most of the residents are in the rec room for a little craft time before lunch,” Carol explained.

He signed the visitors' log and waited for Lorie to do the same.

“Thanks.” He nodded to each of the ladies in turn and gently guided Lorie toward the rec room. Oh, the talk he would have to face tomorrow when his shift started, but whatever. Lorie was a nice girl who found herself in a unique situation. It was his civic duty to help her. He almost snorted at his own thoughts.

Just keep thinking that, Calhoun.
Delusion-ville was a nice place to visit but he couldn't afford to live there forever.

“Look, Zach is here.” He didn't know who called out to him, but he waved a hand toward the occupants of table eight and started in their direction.

“And Leslie.” Betty Mathis glanced up from her knitting, flashing each of them a quick smile.

“Lorie,” she corrected.

“Of course,” Betty murmured, but she had already buried her attention back into the yarn she held.

“I thought you were off today.” This from Eugene. He lifted the sun catcher toward the light and squinted critically. “Should I add some green?”

Linda shook her head. “I told you that was too much orange.”

“No such thing as too much orange.”

Zach smiled. “That's because you graduated from OSU.”

“You got that right.” Eugene smiled and pushed his glasses back up onto the bridge of this nose. “'Course back then we were A&M.”

“And the last class of Aggies. Yes, we know.” Linda rolled her eyes. They were the perfect Oklahoma house divided. Eugene was a “Cowboy” and Linda was a “Sooner” through and through.

Typical for the pair, a good-natured, though heated, argument broke out between the siblings. “National championship” was tossed in along with “Football has nothing to do with academics” and other digs.

Lorie looked to him for guidance. Zach leaned in and whispered, “It'll be okay, just don't come for the Bedlam game.” Then he realized who he was talking to and added, “That's when the two universities play one another.”

She nodded, but still looked confused. Zach wondered how crazy she thought they were, arguing over which was the best school when according to the Internet the Amish didn't go to school past the eighth grade.

Was that possible?

He watched as she went around the table and somehow managed to completely calm the argument. She smiled at Eugene and then toward Linda. Helping each pick a new color to add to their sun catchers.

“We're taking these over to the nursing home,” Stan said. For once Betty didn't try to correct him.

“What's a nursing home?” Lorie frowned and looked from Eugene to Zach.

How could she not know what a nursing home was?

“It's a place where they stash old cronies that no one wants around anymore,” Eugene said.

“I'll call and see if your room is ready.” Linda made to dial on her cell phone. Stan laughed while Eugene scowled at his sister.

Betty's mouth twisted into a frown, but her eyes sparkled. “Those two.” She glanced over to Lorie. “Are you staying for lunch, dear?”

Lorie looked to him.

Zach shrugged. “Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”

“I'd love to,
danki
—I mean, thanks.”

“I do hope they have leprechaun pudding today,” Betty said. “I haven't had it in forever.”

Stan shook his head. “Nobody but you even knows what that is.”

“Of course they do.”

Stan looked to Zach as if searching for backup.

“Don't look at me.” Zach held up his hands in surrender. He'd been caught in between these geriatric duelers too many times to get involved this time.

“But you don't know what it is,” Stan prodded.

“Oh, leave her alone.” Fern lightly smacked his hand in reprimand. “Just because you've never heard of it doesn't mean it's not real.”

“Thank you, dear.” Betty flashed her neighbor a smile.

“And you,” she said, frowning at Stan, “if you keep this up I'll have to take you off my Christmas list.”

He seemed about to say something, but Linda elbowed him and shot him a stern look. He cleared his throat. “Well, I wouldn't want that, Betty.”

“Very good.” Betty folded her knitting and tucked it into her plastic shopping bag. “Should we go down there now?”

Eugene checked his watch. “I guess it's close enough.”

The group stood and started putting away their crafts.

Zach chanced a quick look at Lorie who was helping them put the lids back on their jars of paints. A wistful look covered her face, but before he could ask about it, she hid it from view.

“Everyone ready?” Linda asked.

There were nods all around.

“Oh, I do hope they have leprechaun pudding,” Betty said as the others groaned.

Zach just smiled and walked beside Lorie. It was a good place to be.

Leprechaun pudding. Why did that sound familiar? Lorie followed behind the table eight group as they led her and Zach toward the cafeteria.

Maybe because she had heard Betty ask about it before, the last time Lorie had come to visit.

She shook her head. It didn't matter. This was it. Her last time to come and visit.

Betty's mental state was a series of steep hills and who knew how she would react today. But Lorie had to give it a try.

They all grabbed trays and went through the line. Betty, of course, asked about leprechaun pudding. The young worker behind the counter said the coveted dish wasn't on today's menu while Eugene snorted. Linda elbowed him in the ribs, and Lorie hid her smile.

The
Englisch
may put their elderly in homes, but there were still those who cared for them both physically and emotionally. Her grandmother was in a good place, one that took care of her, provided her with food—even if there was no leprechaun pudding—and housed many friends to fill her days. Lorie couldn't ask for more.

They found seats, Lorie sitting across from Betty and Zach. Everyone started to eat. Lorie wanted to pray, but having her head covered was so deeply ingrained, she refrained. What was worse? To pray without a head covering or not to pray at all? She picked up her fork and pushed the thoughts away. She'd ask for forgiveness later.

She waited until the first observations about today's lunch were complete before asking, “Tell me about your son, Betty.”

Betty scooped up a bite of macaroni and cheese, her brow furrowed. “What do you want to know?”

Lorie shrugged. “Whatever you want to tell me. What did he like to do? Where did he live? Things like that.”

“Oh, he was a good boy, my Hank. I called him Hank, but no one else did. They all called him Henry.”

She had told Lorie that very thing last time she had visited, but she didn't say as much. Her grandmother seemed to be warming up to the subject, and she didn't want to interrupt Betty in case she shared something important.

“Where did he live?” she asked, her mouth growing dry. How much did Betty know of her son's double life?

“Oh, out in the country. That's why he couldn't come to visit more than twice a month. Well, that and the restaurant. That place kept him really busy.”

“Did he ever mention his family?”

A frown once again appeared across Betty's wrinkled brow. “He talked about his children quite a bit, but I never got to meet them. Lovely children.”

“How—”

Betty patted her hand. “He sent me pictures, you know. But I gave you all I had last time you were here.”

“
Ja—
Yes, but I was wondering if there was something else. Something more.”

“No, dear. Nothing more.” But a darkness clouded Betty's pretty blue eyes blocking out the sparkle usually there.

Lorie swallowed hard and wondered if she had pushed too hard. But this was her only chance. Unless she came back once again. What was the harm in that truly? It wasn't like she was going out to drive a car or worse. She was only finding out about the family she never knew she had.

Maybe she would come back. It would be
gut
to see Zach again. Ride in his car. Hear stories about her father. With Betty's mental limitations, it was almost impossible to determine how she would react and what she would share from day to day. Perhaps she should come again, just a time or two. What was wrong with asking a couple of questions and spending time with a sweet lady? Surely not even the sour-faced deacon could find fault with that.

She had to, as clearly as she had to dress in
Englisch
clothes. It was a part of her plan.

Yes, it was all clear now. Coming back. Just a time or two more. That was exactly what she needed to do. Now all she had to figure out was how to get there.

 

 

“Did you have a good time today?” Zach asked as they headed toward Wells Landing.

“
Jah,
I had a real
gut
time.”

He smiled, and Lorie thought it might be the handsomest thing she had ever seen.

Then guilt swamped her. She wasn't supposed to care about the superficial. Okay, so Jonah was handsome to a fault as well, but in different ways than Zach. Jonah was tall and lanky, he had eyes the color of maple syrup and hair the same shade as wheat at harvest time.

“I guess you need to change clothes before you get home.”

She looked down at herself. She had almost forgotten that she wasn't wearing her normal Amish clothing. What did that say about her that after two wearings her new
Englisch
clothes felt as comfortable as the
fracks
she had worn her entire life? “Yes . . .
jah.
”

He pulled into the parking lot of the next gas station they came to. Lorie grabbed her bag from behind the seat and hurried inside to change back into her regular clothes.

The bathroom was empty as she let herself into the stall and took her clothes from the bag. She shook her dress out, hoping some of the wrinkles would fall from the fabric before she ran into anyone she knew. Thankfully the black fabric hid a lot of the creases. With a sigh, she stripped out of her jeans and T-shirt and pulled her dress over her head. Her shoes were next, and she pulled on the black walking shoes and tucked her cute flats back into the bag. Then she let herself out of the stall and released the pins from her hair.

What would it be like to have it cut?
She shook her head, thinking she needed to put a brush and a comb in her bag for future visits. Wait. What was she thinking?

She couldn't come back. She may not have found out anything about her father, but she couldn't risk another trip to Tulsa. There would be no need for anything else to be stored in her bag. In fact, the bag needed to disappear as soon as possible. Regardless of all her plans from earlier, she needed to put a stop to her deceit.

She separated her hair into the best middle part she could and pulled it into a knot. She secured it with the bobby pins, then reached into her bag for her prayer
kapp
.

But it wasn't there.

That had to be a mistake.

She set the bag on the floor and pulled out her clothes. She looked under her shoes. No prayer
kapp.

With her eyes closed, she sat back on her heels and tried to think. Was it in the car? Where had she seen it last? Then she remembered. She'd hung it on the little hook on the back of the bathroom door. But not here. In the first bathroom on the way into Tulsa.

How could she have been so careless? An Amish girl's prayer
kapp
was near sacred. How could she have been so irresponsible as to leave it somewhere?

She shoved her clothes back into her bag and tried to think. She stood and stared at her reflection. This would be all right. It had to be
allrecht.

She would be home around two. Daniel's bus wouldn't arrive for another hour and a half. Cora Ann would walk from the schoolhouse directly to the restaurant where the rest of the Kauffman girls would be working. Lorie would be alone.

She sucked in a deep breath. It was going to be okay.

“Where's your cap thing?” Zach asked when she got back into the car.

Ignoring the hard thump of apprehension in her chest, she stored her bag behind the passenger's seat and gave a small shrug. “I guess I left it in the other bathroom.”

“Is that okay?”

“Do you want me to take you back there to look for it? It might still be there.”

Or it might not be. If she took too much time trying to find it she would get home at the same time everyone else did. And that wouldn't be
gut
at all.

“It'll be all right.” Now if she could just convince herself.

Zach gave a quick nod, then pulled his car back onto the road. “Do you want me to take you home or back into town?”

“You can drop me off where you picked me up this morning. Is that okay?”

“You know that goes against everything my mother ever taught me about how to treat a lady.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize. It's just . . .”

“What?” she asked.

“I hope you don't get in trouble for coming with me.”

There was more of a danger of that now than there had ever been.

“It'll be fine, but . . .”

“But what?” He glanced toward her, taking his gaze from the road only briefly before turning it back again.

“I can't do this again.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Is this something I did?”

“Oh, no. No. But my family wouldn't understand.”

“I see. And did you get all the answers you wanted about your father?”

“I—no, but I have to be satisfied with what I discovered.”

He pulled the car to the side of the road. Lorie realized then that they had reached their deserted phone shanty at the four-way stop on Colton Road. She was almost home.

“I understand.” He turned in his seat to face her. “It's probably better this way.”

She nodded. “I appreciate you coming to get me and taking me to see my grandmother.”

He smiled. “You're welcome.”

“What do I owe you for the ride?”

A frown replaced his smile. “Owe me? You don't owe me anything.”

“But you took me all the way to Tulsa and—”

“I offered to come and get you. I don't expect you to pay me.”

“Are you sure? I don't mind paying you.”

“Stop,” he said. “I enjoyed myself. I don't want your money.”

“Okay.” She gave him a stiff nod. “Will you . . . will you explain to Betty, if she asks why I don't come back?”

“Of course.”

At the sound of her grandmother's favorite phrase, Lorie's smile broke. She reached for the car door and fumbled to open it. Finally she released the handle and escaped before the tears that threatened started to fall.

There was no reason for her to cry. So why did she feel like bawling like a baby?

“Lorie?” Zach stood by his car, concern creasing his brow. “Are you going to be okay?”

She nodded, swallowing back the uncharacteristic tears. “Thanks again,” she said. “For everything.”

“Sure.” He seemed reluctant, but he slid back into his car and started down the road.

Lorie watched him go for a few moments, then turned toward home.

Now all she had to do was get to the house without anyone seeing her bare head.

She was glad for the half-mile walk from the phone shanty to her house. It gave her the time to compose herself.

It wouldn't be long before Daniel's bus brought him home, and it wouldn't do for her eyes to be red-rimmed and filled with tears. He might be considered “special needs” by most, but he was smart in ways Lorie couldn't even begin to understand.

She let herself into the house, thankful to be home and at the same time sad. She would miss her grandmother, but she had her own future to think about. Her future with Jonah.

“Lorie! What are you doing here? Where's your prayer
kapp?
”

She gasped and whirled around coming face-to-face with Sadie. Lorie pressed one hand to her chest as she struggled to bring her heartbeat under control. “What are you doing here?”

Sadie crossed her arms and eyed her. “Daniel wasn't feeling good at school. They called and wanted someone to meet him here.”

“Daniel's here?”

“He's resting.”

“And he's okay?”

Her sister nodded. “Where's your prayer
kapp?
” Sadie asked again.

Lorie's hands flew to her bare head. There had to be an answer. One that Sadie would find acceptable.

“It's uh, well . . .” She had told so many lies in the last few weeks, it was as if her brain couldn't think of another one.

“It's that
Englisch
boy. You've been out with him.”

Lorie wilted. If only it were that simple. “I'm not going again.”

“Lorie.” Sadie grabbed her hand and dragged Lorie up the stairs and into their shared bedroom. She pushed her down onto the bed and started rummaging through their closet. “All you have is your waterproof
kapp
until we can make you a new one. It'll be better than nothing at all,
jah?
But try not to get too close to
Mamm.
”

“Sadie, I—” She wanted to tell her sister everything, all about the box of her father's belongings, his tattoo, and her grandmother living in Tulsa.

“Lorie, promise me.” Sadie turned toward her, the prayer
kapp
clutched close to her heart. “Promise me you won't go anywhere with this boy again.”

She had already made that promise to herself. So why was she having such a hard time saying those words to her
shveshtah?
“Sadie, you won't say anything, will you?”

Her sister shook her head. “As long as you promise not to go meet him again.”

“I promise,” Lorie said. And she meant it, every word.

 

 

“Lorie, it's your turn.”

Lorie stirred herself from her thoughts and stood.

“It's the tenth frame,” Hannah Miller, Jonah's sister, continued. “Make it good. We're only five pins behind the boys.”

Wednesday night was bowling night for the four couples. Tonight it was girls against boys. Lorie, Sadie, Hannah, and Hannah's cousin, Ruthie, against Jonah, Chris, William, and Mark. They had all been dating since their run-around years—Chris and Sadie, William and Hannah, Ruthie and Mark. As Lorie dried her hands on the air blower, she glanced around at all of them. She was the only one who hadn't joined the church.