Lorie's Heart (16 page)

“Yeah. She's a lot older than me. Married, kid, the whole shebang. But I'm sorry about tomorrow. I was looking forward to seeing you.”

She wasn't going to lie. “Me too.”

“Hopefully, my car will be ready by next week. I wish I had another way to come get you.”

A whole week without seeing Zach. She hated the idea. Maybe she could call Luke, and he would come get her and—“You can borrow my car.”

“You have a car?”

“
Jah.
I mean, yeah. It was my
dat'
s.”

“I don't know, Lorie.”

“I do. It's the perfect idea. It's at my friend Luke's house. I'll call him and have him bring it to the living center.”

“If you're sure . . .”

“I'm positive.” She did her best to contain her smile, but she was just so happy. She was seeing Zach tomorrow and that was all that mattered.

 

 

He really wasn't sure about this.

Zach stood in front of the living center and waited for Lorie's friend Luke. He had the feeling this was the same guy he had seen her with that very first time she had come to Tulsa. She'd said they were only friends, yet he couldn't help but wonder.

He pushed that thought away. Like it mattered. Lorie and Luke could be long-lost lovers or really “just friends” and either way Zach's relationship with her would remain the same. Friends. Only friends.

A flash of light drew his attention to the turnoff for the center. An odd-looking orange car pulled in and drove toward him. A vintage Volkswagen Karmann Ghia. He loved those cars. Mainly because there weren't many of them around any longer. At least not around here.

The car putted toward him and parked in the first available space after the handicap spots. A dark-haired man got out and started toward him.

“Luke?” he asked.

He nodded. “Zach.”

“I appreciate you bringing the car to me.”

“Anything for Lorie.”

He wasn't sure how to respond to that.

“There's a half tank of gas. That should get you through until your car is repaired.”

Zach waited as Luke turned the keys over in his hand. A large letter
B
made up the decorative key ring. He briefly wondered if it stood for Betty, then thought he remembered someone saying that Lorie's mother's name was Belinda. “Do you need me to drop you off someplace?”

Luke shook his head. “There's my ride.”

A pretty blond-haired girl pulled up in a brand-new Mustang convertible. Any doubts Zach had about the relationship between Luke and Lorie were laid to rest as the girl waggled her fingers toward the other man. Definitely something going on between the two of them.

Luke held up the keys. Zach reached out, but he didn't release them. “One more thing,” Luke said. “Lorie is one of the nicest people I know. She's not used to guys like you.
Englisch buwe
. If you hurt her, I will find you.”

“I—” He stopped, not sure what to say next.
There's nothing more than friendship between us. I wouldn't hurt her for anything in the world. She's too special to me.
But nothing sounded strong enough to convey his true feelings for Lorie. In another life, one where the both of them weren't from such different backgrounds, he'd do everything in his power to make her fall in love with him. Given half the chance, he thought she might return those feelings. But in reality they were just two people connected by a love of the seniors and a weird twist of fate. And that's all it could ever be without breaking the hearts of the people they loved the most.

 

 

Lorie smiled as she spotted the familiar orange car poking down the road toward the phone shanty. Luke hadn't hesitated when she asked him to take her father's car to Sundale and leave it for Zach. She'd have to remember to bring Luke up a big batch of his favorite cookies next time she visited.

She slung her bag of clothes over her shoulder and shut the shanty door behind her. She had to temper her smile at the sight of Zach driving her father's car. Or maybe it was Zach waiting for her that thrilled her so.

“Hey.” She slid into the car next to him, the action as natural as breathing, though she didn't take the time to examine it.

“Hey.” He smiled, and it nearly took her breath away. Maybe this friends thing wasn't such a good idea. But the thought of never hanging out with Zach again made her stomach drop into her lap.

He put the car in gear, and they were off.

“You want to listen to the radio?”

“Sure.”

He flipped it on and tuned it to a station. Lorie liked the music. It was upbeat and catchy, but she didn't know anything about it, other than it was very different from the music at church.

Zach smiled and turned it up a notch more, singing along about a girl named Brandy. Lorie settled down in her seat and enjoyed the ride and watching him when he wasn't looking.

Once the song ended, he turned the music down. “I'm confused. Tell me why you have a car again.”

Lorie recounted the tale. That it was her father's car. No one in the family knew about it except her stepmother, and Maddie preferred to pretend it didn't exist. “So you can drive it as long as you need to.”

“That's a generous offer, but—”

“No buts,” she said. “It's the least I can do. It's not like I know how to drive it or anything.”

“What? You mean you don't know how to drive your own car?”

“It's not really mine. I mean, I guess it is now. Sort of. But it isn't like Amish kids are taught to drive.”

“You could always learn.”

She shook her head. “Don't you have to have a license for that?”

“So you get a license.” He shrugged like it was the easiest thing to do.

Lorie shook her head. “In just a few weeks, my baptism classes will be over. “There's no sense doing all that to drive for like two days. Besides . . .”

“Besides what?” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

“I don't think the bishop would approve.”

“Probably not.”

But the bishop wouldn't approve of her running around Tulsa in
Englisch
clothes with an
Englisch bu
in her father's car.
Jah,
there would be a lot of questions to answer on that one. So many that having a driver's license might be overlooked in the mix. She shook her head to clear those thoughts.

“You could still learn to drive it. If you want. I mean, I could teach you.”

“It doesn't require a special teacher?”

“Only if you don't have someone to teach you.”

Learning to drive would be interesting. And what would be the harm. She already owned the car. At least until Luke sold it for her. Plus, so many of the residents of Wells Landing knew how to drive a tractor and treated them like cars, putting around town with their rubber tires. “Did you have someone to teach you?”

“I went to Driver's Ed.” He smiled in remembrance. “My mom tried to teach me, but she got too nervous with me behind the wheel.”

“You're a great driver.” At least she thought he was. He had gotten her all over the place without crashing.

“I wasn't always. But that's part of learning, I suppose.”

“So what about your father. Did he not want to teach you?”

“No.” He shook his head and changed lanes. Somehow Lorie got the impression that he was uncomfortable with the topic.

“You've never mentioned your dad.”

“I don't want to talk about him, okay?”

“Okay,” Lorie agreed, but she saw the flash of pain in his eyes as he spoke.

“I'm telling you no one uses these durned things anymore. I don't know why we're even making them.” Stan pushed the wooden loom aside and wiped his forehead like he had been plowing a field instead of making a woven-yarn hot pad for the women at the domestic violence prevention center.

“That's not the point,” Fern said.

“I know. I know. It's all about working the fingers.”

“And helping those young girls get back on their feet,” Linda reminded him.

“Some of them are men, you know.” Betty stopped to count her stitches, then started knitting once again.

Lorie was glad to get to spend some time with her grandmother. Betty seemed to be having a good day. She was focused and well-spoken. Lorie hadn't even heard her say her standard “of course” more than once or twice since she and Zach had arrived.

Stan harrumphed, but didn't say anything. Lorie was grateful. Linda looked ready to give him a tongue lashing if he disputed the facts of their conversation.

Zach took over Stan's loom, helping him to finish winding the yarn. Then he tied the loose ends and clipped it from the frame. “There.” He pulled the mat into place and showed it to Stan.

“It's lovely,” Fern said.

“Very,” Lorie agreed. Of course it didn't hurt that it was in her favorite shades of blue.

“Maybe you should keep it. At least I know it'll get used.”

“That's sweet of you, I can't keep it. It's going to someone who needs it.” Maybe they didn't need the actual item, but they needed to know that someone was thinking about them.

“Pah.” Stan waved a hand around as if to erase her words from the air. “You've made one and that would be an extra. Put yours in the box and take mine with you.”

The gesture warmed her heart. These seniors had become so important to her over the last few weeks. Not just Betty, but all of them—grumpy Stan and cantankerous Eugene. She would miss them terribly when she stopped coming here.

Why stop?

Why couldn't she come here even after she joined the church? What harm was there in visiting with her grandmother and helping the seniors with their craft projects? She enjoyed them and they seemed to like her just fine. Why did she have to choose between the church and them?

Zach.

How long could she pretend that every day she didn't like him more?

“Lorie?”

She shook herself from her thoughts, realizing that the others had put away their crafts and were preparing to go to lunch. “Sorry.” She stood and made her way to where they waited.

It was the truth. Every day she liked Zach more. At this rate she would be completely in love with him before the end of the summer. And where would that leave her? Joining the church and living in Wells Landing while her heart was in Tulsa with Zach. How would she survive that?

“Are you coming, dear?” Betty asked.

Lorie nodded as they followed behind the others to the cafeteria.

“Oh, I do hope they have leprechaun pudding today. They haven't served it in forever.”

 

 

Lunch consisted of roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and salad, with red gelatin for dessert.

Lorie sat across from Zach and tried not to think about how handsome and sweet he was and how much she would miss him when she joined the church. She still had weeks to go before that happened. After that . . . well, she would deal with that when the time came.

“What are you doing?” Lorie asked, mouth open as she stared at Stan. He had tipped his dessert plate toward his mouth and was sucking the gelatin straight from it.

“I'm eating,” he said around his mouthful.

“You shouldn't eat dessert before your meal.” She hadn't meant to sound stern, but she couldn't imagine eating the sweets before the main foods.
Mamm
would not have stood for it.

“We're old. We always eat dessert first,” Eugene boomed, scooping up his own dessert.

The others nodded.

They were just so sweet and honest, Lorie couldn't help but smile. Truly what was the problem with eating dessert first? Her heart warmed, and she smiled at Stan. “Next time I'll bring you one of Esther Lapp's buttermilk pies.”

Stan's expression turned dreamy. “Yum. Buttermilk pie is my favorite.”

“It'd surely be better than this.” Linda took another bite of the gelatin.

“If they can serve this, I don't know why we can't have leprechaun pudding,” Betty said.

“Maybe because it doesn't exist,” Stan grumbled, his earlier happiness vanishing in an instant.

“I thought we went over this.” Fern shot him a stern look. “Just because you don't know what it is doesn't mean it doesn't exist.”

“Maybe we could help you get some if you would tell us what it is.” Zach looked to Betty and lifted a fork loaded with mashed potatoes. “What about these?”

She shook her head. “Mashed potatoes? Why on earth would mashed potatoes be leprechaun pudding?”

“Potatoes . . . Irish . . . leprechauns.” He shrugged.

“I'm sorry, dear, but that's just plain silly.”

“I'll tell you what's silly,” Stan started. “Ow.” He frowned at Linda who shot him an innocent look.

Lorie suspected she had kicked him under the table. “Maybe if you would tell us what it is, we'd have an easier time finding it for you.”

Betty turned clear blue eyes to her. “You don't know? Why, dear, you were the one who named it that.”

“Me?”

Her grandmother nodded. “Yes, indeed. That means you already know what it is. Now all you have to do is remember.”

The conversation around her turned to other things, but Lorie was stuck on Betty's last words. She had named leprechaun pudding? But how was that possible? She must have been three or four at the time. How was she supposed to remember something from twenty years ago when she was just a toddler?

Everyone finished their lunch and started planning out their afternoon.

“Are you ready to go?” Zach asked.

Betty and the women were gathering in Linda's room to watch
The Price Is Right
while the men decided to take naps.

“Yeah, sure.”

Together, the group walked back through the hallways. Each went to their own rooms.

“Will you come back next week?” Betty asked Lorie.

She looked to Zach who gave a quick nod. “Of course I will.” She hated relying on him to come get her, but she enjoyed the time she spent with him and with the seniors. And he didn't seem to mind. “I'll see you then.” She leaned in and gave her grandmother a quick hug, then pulled away with tears stinging the back of her eyes. What was wrong with her? She had been so emotional lately. She supposed that was to be expected, but the Amish didn't show so much emotion in public.

She turned away, but Betty caught her arm before she could leave. “Lorie, dear. You know that your father was a good man. Remember that about him.”

Was Betty having a clear moment when the past and present separated and she knew who was president and what day it was? “I will.”

“Don't just say that to humor an old woman. I know sometimes I say crazy things.” She chuckled. “But right now I'm telling you the honest truth. The things your father did . . . it was only because he loved you. He wasn't trying to cause you pain or give you doubts. He only wanted to protect you.”

Hadn't she said something very similar a few short weeks ago? “Protect me from what?”

Betty shook her head. “You haven't read the letters.”

“No.” She had only read a dozen or so of them and quit. Her pain had been too raw so close after her father's death, and she'd started to doubt she would find anything of use. Or maybe she had started to worry that whatever she discovered, her view of her father would be changed forever. She would rather remember him laughing and cooking, enjoying his life and his family rather than sneaking away to Tulsa and living a life no one else in the family knew about.

“You need to. It's important you hear this from him. You read the letters and I'll answer your questions then, okay?”

“Okay.”

 

 

“What do you suppose she meant by that?” Zach asked as they headed down the highway toward Wells Landing.

“I don't know. Do you think her mind was clear?”

“It seemed so to me, but sometimes it's hard to tell.”

They rode in silence a while before Zach spoke again. “Are you going to read the rest of the letters?”

“I suppose I have to if I want to know the truth.”

“Or you can just let it go and not worry about it.”

That was, as the
Englisch
said,
easier said than done.
“I can't. I wish I could, but I just can't.”

“I understand.” He didn't take his eyes from the road, but his jaw tightened as if he was clenching his teeth.

“Does this have something to do with your
dat?
”

“I really don't want to talk about him.”

The edge in his voice made her drop the subject quick. But he had helped her so much. She just wanted to do the same for him. “Yeah, okay. But if you ever change your mind.”

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, but otherwise his demeanor remained the same. “Thanks,” he said. “But I won't.”

 

 

Zach breathed a small sigh of relief that she dropped the subject of his dad without further comment. He supposed she understood better than most how the secrets a person kept could ruin the lives of everyone around them. And his father had secrets. Oh, boy, did that man have secrets. Another woman, two children, and an apartment in the south side. But what hurt the most was when all was said and done, his father chose his other family over Zach and his mom. Lorie didn't know how good she had it. As far as secrets went, Henry Mathis/Kauffman's were tame in comparison.

“Can we listen to the radio again?” Lorie asked.

“Sure.” He showed her how to turn the knob to find a different station. The car was old, before the push buttons, preset stations, and cassette players.

She fiddled with the knob, turning over some pretty good songs, but he wanted her to pick what she liked. He'd have the radio all the way back home, but once she got out of the car, she was faced with a life without music. He didn't know how she could stand it.

“Is there anything by the Rolling Stones on here?”

“Maybe. Wait. How do you know about the Rolling Stones?”

She shrugged. “A friend of mine said he liked them.”

“Luke?”

“No. Merv King. He's the coffin maker for the district.”

“I see.” He didn't. He'd never given much thought to coffins, Amish or otherwise. “How does he hear them?”

“He has one of those music players with the things you put in your ears.”

He smiled, thinking of an Amish man, full-on beard, listening to the Rolling Stones. Yessiree, the Amish were much different than he'd originally thought. “Isn't that against the rules?”

“Yeah, but sometimes . . .”

He waited for her to continue.

“Sometimes it's a dumb rule and needs to be broken.” She slapped a hand over her mouth and turned pink from her fingers up. “I didn't say that.”

“Oh, yeah you did,” he teased.

“I think you're having a bad influence on me.”

He couldn't tell from her tone whether she was joking or serious. He took a chance to study her face for a minute. Kidding, he decided. But he wanted to give her a real answer. “Maybe, but you're definitely having a good influence on me.”

 

 

Friday brought another busload of tourists into Wells Landing that made Saturday's business look pitiful. Lorie was both thankful and resentful of the distraction. She wanted to climb up into the storeroom and get out the box of letters that Betty had given her. But she knew once she did, she would want to paint a little as well. She had managed to squelch that desire for almost two weeks, but she knew eventually that it would overtake her. It always did.

But for now, she settled herself to the mindless task of her restaurant chores—filling up the ice bins, rolling silverware, and cleaning the waitress station. Lorie was wiping down the counter when
Mamm
approached.

She frowned at the string tied around her wrist. Like Jonah, she preferred to pretend it wasn't there, but Lorie knew it was bothering her all the same.

“You will not wear that to church,” Maddie said during a lull in Saturday's diners.

“I don't see anything wrong with it.” She tried to keep her voice steady and even, but she could hear the edge of defiance in it.

Mamm'
s frown deepened. “You are attending classes. You'd best keep that in mind. I'm sure you wouldn't want the embarrassment of your vote not being approved.”

“No.
Nay.
Of course not,” she murmured, instantly regretting her tone. It was the last thing she wanted. But she remembered the look on Zach's face when he tied the string to her wrist. She knew it was silly, but she wanted to wear it until it fell off. She wanted to make that wish and see if it came true.

But if she took it off, all that would be nothing but words. She wouldn't. It was as simple as that. She would wrap a bandage around her arm and say that one of the chickens pecked her when she went out to gather eggs. Or that she'd burned her arm on the fryer.