Lorie's Heart (8 page)

She shook her head.

He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse, then he shook his head. “You don't need to be afraid of me.”

“I'm not scared,” she said. “It's just . . . I'm not coming back here.”

“Because of what I said?”

“Because my place is in Wells Landing. I'm joining the church this year. I'm getting married soon.”

“Married?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Well, I guess that's that then.”

She bobbed her head in return. “I guess.” A horn sounded, and Lorie turned just as Luke pulled the little orange car into the parking lot. “I've got to go.”

“Don't stay away from your grandmother because of me and my big mouth,” Zach said.

“I'm not. But I can't keep coming here. I'm not sure how the bishop would feel about that. And I think I confuse Betty more than anything.”

“She's your grandmother.”

“I lived without her for twenty-three years,” Lorie said, ignoring the ache in her heart. “I'll send the letters back to her when I've looked through them. I just need some answers.”

A confused frown puckered his brow, and Lorie realized he didn't know anything about her father's deception. There was no merit in telling him now. “Okay,” Zach said. “But do me one favor. If you ever want to come back, let me know, I can come get you. No strings.” He paused. “That means I won't expect anything in return.”

She hid her smile. “I know.” She glanced toward the car where Luke waited. She was torn between the two. She needed to leave. She wanted to stay if even for just a little bit longer. The thought of never coming again filled her with a deep sadness.

“Wait right here, okay?”

She started to protest.

“Please.” He was so handsome that she couldn't resist. What was a couple more minutes anyway?

“
Jah,
okay.”

“Stay right here.” He walked backward a couple of steps, then turned and jogged toward the doors of Sundale.

“Are you coming?” Luke called from the car.

“In a minute.”

He nodded, his smile smug and knowing, but she didn't have time to say anything in return. Zach came back out of the center.

“Here.” He held out a little card of paper like the ones her father had made for the restaurant.

“What is this?” she asked as she took it from him.

“My number. You know, just in case you ever want to come visit and don't have a ride. I can come get you.” He stumbled over his words. “No strings.”

She turned the card over. The information for the Sundale Center was on one side. A phone number was written in scrawling numbers across the back. “I don't think I—”

“I get it. But just in case. You never have to use it. But I want you to have it. She is your grandmother after all.”

Lorie nodded and tucked the card into the back pocket of her jeans. Just like them, she would take the card home and hide it from the world. She couldn't risk her entire life on a woman who could barely remember her name and a boy she'd just met.

Lorie managed to keep the box closed all the way back to Wells Landing. She stashed it in the storeroom behind her paintings and along with the box the police had given Maddie and the clothes she had bought at the secondhand store. She had taken them straightaway to burn them, but something about them—or maybe it was the shoes—kept her from destroying that one link with the
Englisch
world.

It was two days before she managed to sneak into the storeroom again. She sat cross-legged on the floor and pulled the shoe box stuffed with letters toward her, staring at it, wondering if she really wanted to open it. This entire situation seemed to be growing. She wanted one last visit to talk to her grandmother and instead she got a box of letters and who knew what else.

She sucked in a deep breath and reached for the lid. She wasn't sure what to expect, but the letters were there just as promised along with other mementos tucked between the pages. Ribbons, fancy napkins, even a few pressed flowers. She pulled out the envelope closest to the edge and checked the postmark against the one behind it. It seemed the letters were in no particular order, just stuffed inside, waiting for eyes to read them once again.

She unfolded the paper, realizing as she did that the letter wasn't in order. Immediately she recognized her father's spidery handwriting.

Tears filled Lorie's eyes. She dashed them away and continued to read.

Any doubts she had were dashed in that moment. Or maybe they were hopes that all of this was a terrible mistake. But the proof was there, in her father's own hand.

She flipped through the other pages of the letter. There wasn't much else of great importance, but she enjoyed reading her father's words despite their lack of answers. But her search dislodged the promised photo.

He was right. It wasn't the best picture, taken at an odd angle and grainy as if through some sort of screen.

She didn't recognize anything about the photo except her own face. The porch where she stood and the other surroundings were a complete mystery, though it did appear that they were somewhere in the country. She looked no more than four, if even that. Her hair was in pigtails like she had seen many Amish women style their young daughters' hair. She was a little old for the style. Perhaps her father did it out of necessity. Dads were no good at fixing their daughters' hair. Or maybe she'd had a haircut that made her locks too short to pull back in a bun. She wore a sage-green dress and a black
schlupp schotzli,
a pinafore worn by very young Amish girls. Her feet were bare, her smile broad. Despite everything, she looked happy.

One phrase kept playing over and over again in her head.
I did this for her.

Did what? Convert to Amish?

That was possible. Perhaps her father had simply wanted to raise her in the close-knit community. He'd decided the best way to fit in was to convert. But why the secrecy? Why did he feel the need to lie to her about her grandmother and owning a car? If converted, why didn't he convert all the way?

As much as she wanted it to be true, the theory had too many holes in it to hold water.

She wanted to sit there all night and examine each letter, but the one she read had been so emotionally draining, she thought it might be days before she could look at another one.

She should paint.

The thought popped into her head like an exploding piece of popcorn. She should paint, get all these emotions out and onto the canvas. Surely that would help her move on.

She pushed herself to her feet, dusted off her dress, and fetched her painting garb. Painting was the one sure thing to get her mind off everything else.

“Where have you been?”

Lorie shrugged one shoulder and managed not to give an answer as Maddie continued to bark orders. “Get a serving apron on and wash your hands. There's too many people in here for you to lollygag about.”

A bus had come in from Tulsa bringing with it a load of tourists clamoring for authentic Amish food. Like what Plain people ate was so much different than anyone else, Lorie thought as she tied a clean apron around her middle. She immediately regretted her rudeness, even if it was only in her head. She used to love the busloads of people coming in and the excitement it brought to the restaurant. To the entire town.

“Where have you been?” Sadie sidled up beside her and whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “She has been stomping around here for almost an hour.”

“I lost track of time,” Lorie explained, which truly wasn't an explanation at all. But she surely couldn't say, “I lost myself painting a picture of the grandmother I never knew I had.”

Even with Betty Mathis's face floating on the canvas it was Zach's that kept invading her thoughts. Why had he given her his phone number? She had said that she wasn't coming back. Her visits would only confuse Betty, and Lorie herself lived too far away to make the trip regularly. Though according to Amber and Carol it seemed that her father had made it quite often.
But he had a car,
the voice inside her whispered.
He had a driver's license and means to get to Sundale whenever he wanted.

“Yoo-hoo. Lorie.” Sadie snapped her fingers in front of Lorie's face.

She started and turned to her sister. “
Jah?
”

“Wherever you went, it's time to come back.”

Her eyes widened and her heart gave a hard pound. “I haven't been anywhere.” How did Sadie find out?

“I didn't mean literally. You just seemed to be off somewhere in your own head.”

“Oh,
jah.
” Lorie gave a nervous laugh. “Sorry.”

Sadie flashed her a small smile and patted her hand. “It's
allrecht.
Just try not to give
Mamm
a heart attack. What's that?” Sadie pointed to a smudge of paint on the back of her hand.

Lorie pulled her hand away and shoved it into her apron pocket. “Nothing. Just some dirt, I guess.”

“Green dirt?”

“
Jah.
” She turned on her heel and started toward the table the passing couple had just vacated. “Time to get to work,” she tossed over her shoulder. And with any luck, by the time the work was done, her sister would have forgotten all about the telltale paint.

 

 

He was being ridiculous.

“Why are we here again?” Cameron asked. Zach and Cameron Thompson had been best friends since their freshman year at OSU, even in spite of their three-year age difference.

“We came to eat authentic Amish food.”

“Uh-huh.” Cameron dragged out the word until it seemed like it lasted for days.

“Really.” He reached for the door to the Kauffman Family Restaurant. “People do this all the time.” At least that was the truth, but Cameron wasn't convinced. Zach wasn't even fooling himself. He had come to see Lorie. Like a fool he had given her his phone number, then realized the Amish didn't have phones. At least that was what the Internet said. How could she call him if she didn't have a phone? Or maybe she wasn't Amish any longer since she was dressed like half the girls he went to school with.

He wanted to ask her. Why she was wearing jeans and saying she was going to join the church? Was she really getting married? She was no older than he was, and Zach was nowhere near ready to settle down.

The bell at the door rang out to signal their entrance. A young Amish girl met them there. She had dark hair, fair skin, and hazel eyes. “Two?” She grabbed menus and looked at each of them in turn.

Cameron nodded.

“This way.” She led them toward a booth, placing their rolled bundles of silverware by their menus. “Today's special is meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and locally grown, fresh green beans. I'll be back with a couple of waters to start you off, and I'll take your order then.”

Cameron opened his menu and snorted. “Authentic Amish food.”

“What? The Amish can't eat meat loaf?”

“Face it. It doesn't sound all that Amish.”

“Whatever.” He really hadn't come for the food. Though it would be good to have a home-cooked meal. His mother had been working double shifts at the retirement center. He'd been reduced to SpaghettiOs and ramen noodles. More often than not, ramen won out. He was so tired of not having a “real” job. His mother told him to be patient. The right job would come along. God had a plan and it would be revealed when the time was right.

He wanted to believe all that was true, but honestly he didn't have quite the faith his mother had. Sometimes he even wondered how she managed to keep hers intact after all that she had been through.

“You're buying, right?” Cameron asked.

Zach nodded. “But don't go crazy.” It was Cameron's consolation prize for traveling all the way from Tulsa to Wells Landing on his only day off in two weeks.

“I won't, I won't.” Cameron waved a hand and buried his face back in the menu. “You know Dad will get you a job working with us.”

The last thing he wanted was a “got for me” job. He wanted to earn his right to be at a workplace. That was why he couldn't accept Cameron's father's offer. Well, that and the fact that he wasn't qualified to pour concrete. “What's the difference between working at the center and what you do?” Neither one was in his chosen field of business.

“About eight dollars an hour.”

Zach didn't have time to respond as the dark-haired girl came to their table again. “Are you ready to order now?”

“I'll have the meat loaf.” He handed the menu back to her. As Cameron ordered the oven-fried chicken, Zach weighed the merits of asking the girl about Lorie. He kept quiet. He wasn't sure what it was, but something inside said he should wait a little longer before revealing his true reason for being in Wells Landing.

“And to drink?” she asked.

“Iced tea,” they both said.

She marked it on her notepad. “I'll be right back with your drinks.”

“So this girl,” Cameron asked after their waitress had moved on, “she works here?”

“Her family owns the restaurant.”

Their waitress appeared again with their glasses of fresh tea.

Zach took a sip, nodding his approval.

“Your meals will be out shortly,” the waitress said, and moved away once again.

“So is she around?” Cameron scanned the restaurant as if he would be able to find her.

“I don't see her.”

“So ask.”

Zach shook his head. “I think I should wait.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. She said she was joining the church and getting married. Seems like maybe I shouldn't—”

“She's getting married? You are so lucky you're buying lunch. Drag me to nowhere to see a girl who's getting married . . . to someone else!”

“Shhh! There she is.” Zach nodded toward the door to the kitchen. Lorie pushed through looking so much like she had the very first time he had seen her at the auction. She looked so very Amish that he almost had trouble remembering how she looked in her plaid Western shirt and faded jeans.

“That's your girl?” Cameron's tone was heavy with disbelief. “She's Amish.”

“I told you that.”

“Maybe I didn't believe you.”

She caught sight of Zach and stopped, her mouth falling open for a moment before she recovered. She turned away as if she hadn't seen him there.

Her reaction was obvious. She didn't want to talk to him. Or at least she didn't want to talk to him here where her family could see.

She kept her back to him as she started filling the army of pitchers with ice and fresh tea.