The Amish Bride (17 page)

It was after seven by the time we neared Nappanee. A freight train was chugging along the tracks that ran parallel to the highway. Several of the farms were obviously Amish. The clues included the usual things: no electrical wires running to the buildings, workhorses grazing in the field, laundry hanging on the lines, buggies parked here and there, and well-kept houses and barns. Although most of the buildings were painted white, as in Lancaster County, there was more of a natural look to the farms. Back home it sometimes seemed as if everything had to be perfect, with not a single weed or weathered board to be seen. Here, although everything was well cared for, it seemed as if there might be less of an emphasis on appearances. I wondered how much of that might have to do with the droves of tourists who visited Lancaster County every year. Although I was sure Elkhart County had its share, I knew it couldn’t rival the numbers back home.

The sun was beginning to set directly in front of us. I was so stiff I could barely pull the directions to the house where I would be staying from my pocket as we passed an Amish buggy. I turned my head to get a glimpse of the driver—a young woman about my age, wearing glasses and a sweatshirt. Oddly, her head covering was round, like mine, rather than heart-shaped like the Amish wore back home. I knew that didn’t mean she was Old Order Mennonite—it probably just meant the Amish here wore rounded
kapp
s.

Ezra slowed for the city limits, passing an Amish youth on a bicycle. That surprised me as the Amish back home weren’t allowed to have bikes. Fast-food restaurants and stores were on either side of the four-lane highway, but they soon gave way to houses, many of them brick and all of them looking at least a century old. When Ezra stopped at a red light on
Main Street, I told him to turn right. Several blocks later I instructed him to turn right again and in a few more blocks I told him to pull over. The two-story house in front of us was painted ivory with cranberry trim, and it had a wide porch and an American flag. The lawn was as well cared for as the house. I climbed off the motorcycle and pulled my helmet from my head. Ezra kicked down the stand, positioned the bike, and turned off the motor. As he stood, I handed him my helmet and retrieved my box from the saddlebag. The front door opened and a woman stepped out.

“Is that you, Ella?” She was short and a little plump, probably around fifty, and her shoulder-length dark hair looked as if it were dyed. She wore a long-sleeved light-blue blouse and a pair of jeans. It had to be Penny, the woman I’d been emailing with back and forth. I greeted her and then introduced Ezra, saying he needed to hurry out to the farm he was staying at before it grew completely dark. I turned back to him.

“Do you want me to ask if you can leave the bike here? If she can give you a ride?” That had been the original plan.

He shook his head. “I’ll just drive it out.” He seemed resigned to it, and I actually thought that was a good idea. That way he could come back into town to see me when he was off work.

“Okay. I’ll send you a text tomorrow about my job search.”

He climbed back on the bike and then shook his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not so sure about this,” he said again.

“It’ll be fine,” I answered quickly. “Everything will work out.” I tried my hardest to smile, but even my face hurt.

He rolled the bike backward, a frown on his face.

“It’s going to be fine, Ez,” I said again, my voice still low but as cheery as I could make it. “Trust me.” My voice fell flat, though, betraying my fear.

He shook his head.

I slung my backpack higher on my shoulder.

“Ella?” the woman called out. “Is everything okay?”

I nodded. “I’ll be right there.” I gave Ezra a little wave. “Text me,” I said. “Let me know you made it out to the dairy farm.”

He grimaced, pulled around in the middle of the street, and then headed back the direction we’d come.

As I made my way toward the house, walking stiffly, I pulled my phone from my pocket. I had three missed calls from Mom and two from Zed, and several texts. Mom had expected me home by two—which was more than five hours ago. At first she might have thought I’d lost track of time, but when I didn’t answer any of her texts or calls, I could see that she might have grown concerned.

As I reached the porch, my cell vibrated in my hand. This call was from Lexie. It looked as if the whole world knew I’d gone missing.

Penny led me straight up to my room, asking as we climbed the stairs if I’d found a job yet. I winced as I said, “No.” Taking another step, I was sure I’d be bowlegged for the rest of my life.

“Are you okay?” She paused, looking back down at me.

I was going to make up some flip answer, but the concern on her face was so earnest that it stripped away my defenses.

“No, actually. I’m an idiot!” I laughed. “I have learned my lesson. Never, ever take an all-day motorcycle ride unless you’re physically prepared for it. The longest I’d ever been on that bike before was an hour at the most. Trust me, after this, I may never walk normally again.”

Penny chuckled. “Well, I’ve never ridden a motorcycle, but I did take a day trip on a horse once, during my honeymoon, so I know what you mean. It kinda took the ‘honey’ out of the honeymoon, if you get what I’m sayin’!”

It even hurt to laugh, but at least I finally reached the top of the stairs.

My room was simple—a twin bed, a chest of drawers with the cardboard box I’d mailed ahead on top, a small desk, a wardrobe in the corner—but it was neat and more than adequate. I put the pillowcase with the carved box and Sarah’s book on the end of the bed and then slung my backpack beside it.

“I’ll give you a few minutes,” Penny said. “But then come down and chat. I have a job idea.”

Falling onto the bed, I listened to Lexie’s voice mail first.

“Your mom is worried sick, Ella. Call me.”

I listened to Mom’s messages and then Zed’s. Neither one of them
sounded worried sick, but in one of them, Mom offered to give me a ride if I needed it, something she never did. She must have imagined me hidden away somewhere in Lancaster County—not two states away.

As I deleted the last message, my phone vibrated again.
Mom.
I decided to get it over with and answered it.

After a terse hello, she said a packet came for me today with the return address of a cooking school in South Bend.

“Ella.” Her voice was as suspicious as I’d ever heard it. “Are you, by chance, with Ezra in Indiana?”

“Yes and no. I’m not with Ezra, but I am in Indiana.”

“
Were
you with Ezra?” she asked. It was so like her to be as specific as possible.

“I was earlier today, but he went on to the Klines’ dairy farm.”

“And where are you?”

“At Penny’s.” I knew I was sounding smart—as if she should know who Penny was.

“And where did you meet this Penny?”

“Online.”

There was a long pause and then she finally said, “I see.” That was all. She was absolutely quiet.

I quickly filled the silence with chatter. “You wanted me to be independent, right? To make my own decisions? Well, that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m renting a room.”

“It sounds like what you’re doing is manipulating Ezra and putting yourself in a potentially harmful situation.”

I sat up straight. “Oh, no. He
wanted
me to come. And Penny is a woman even older than you, I swear.”

Mom sighed. “Was it Ezra’s idea for you to go with him?”

I didn’t answer.

“And how do you think this looks to his family and community in Lancaster County, not to mention his new supervisor in Indiana? And the new community he’s supposed to be a part of. Him running off with a girl?”

“We’ve done nothing wrong.” I was adamant. “There’s nothing to accuse us of. We’ve been beyond reproach.” That was a term I’d heard used about other couples.

“I’m not accusing you. Listen carefully. I’m saying that you’ve presented Ezra in a bad light as well as yourself. And you’ve been determined all along to get what you wanted, not thinking once what’s best for either of you.”

I didn’t answer that, either.

“Ella, if you get on a bus tonight and come home, there’s a chance Ezra may still be able to salvage what was planned for him, but—”

“That’s just it. All of this was planned for him. He didn’t have a say—”

“Did he tell you that?”

I thought for a moment. Actually, he hadn’t.

“Young lady.” Mom’s voice was low and firm. “The truth is, you’re the one who didn’t have a say in any of this. And that’s what’s been eating you up all along.”

“No, Mom, that’s not true.” But even as I said the words, I knew it was. “I love Ezra…” I thought about saying more but then decided it wouldn’t do any good.

I expected her to point out I hadn’t acted in a loving way, but she didn’t. Instead she said, “Get on the bus.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, standing as I spoke. “I’ll send you a text once I decide.”

There was another long pause. “In the meantime, I need to talk with this Penny person,” she finally said.

I slumped against the headboard for a moment and then rallied myself. I limped out into the hall and then went down the stairs.

Penny was standing at the bottom. “I have more info about that job I mentioned.” It was clear she didn’t notice the cell phone I was holding to my ear.

“Okay,” I answered. “But first my mother wants to talk with you.” I handed her the cell and sat on the bottom step, shaky with exhaustion, both physical and emotional. Penny listened intently, glancing my way a few times and then wandering off around the corner into the next room. I stayed put.

After my mother was finished with her, my new landlady would probably drive me to the bus station herself.

I could hear the murmur of Penny’s voice every once in a while, but it
was clear Mom was doing most of the talking. It wasn’t like her to be so open with a stranger, and I couldn’t help but wonder what she was saying.

After what seemed like an eternity, Penny returned and handed me the phone, a look of deep concern on her face. I thanked her and scampered as best I could up the stairs as I listened to Mom say, “Well, it’s hard to tell from a distance, but the woman seems stable enough. Of course, she was shocked you hadn’t discussed your plans with me.” There was definitely a twinge of hurt in Mom’s voice. “She said you won’t be able to get a bus out of town tonight, but she’ll give you a ride to the depot in the morning.”

“If that’s what I decide to do.”

Mom sighed. “Yes, Ella. In fact, I told her that because I anticipate you will be as stubborn as ever about this.”

I didn’t answer.

“Please call me tomorrow,” she said. “One way or the other.”

Reluctantly, I told her I would.

She told me she loved me, something she didn’t say very often, before she said goodbye. As soon as I hung up, my cell began vibrating again. It was Lexie. I slipped the phone into my pocket and took the stairs slowly this time, running my hand along the polished cherrywood banister. I stepped into the living room, but Penny wasn’t there. The room, with its rag rug, blue velvet-covered sofa, and two overstuffed chairs, looked as if it was seldom used. It was decorated in Americana, with wall hangings and picture frames all with stars and flags and colonial buildings painted on them. I headed through the dining room, around an antique table and hutch, and into the kitchen. Penny stood at the counter, filling a teakettle. The kitchen had plenty of counter space, plus a gas range, a heavy-duty mixer, a humongous refrigerator, and a dishwasher. What stopped me in my tracks was the bookcase filled with cookbooks and magazines.

“Do you like to cook?” Penny asked, noting my interest.

“Yes,” I answered. “I especially like to bake.” She had a series of
Gourmet
magazine, one of
Sunset
, and one of
Cooking Light
, plus all the classic cookbooks—
The Silver Palate, The Joy of Cooking,
Julia Childs, James Beard. French and Italian cookbooks. Greek. I squinted. She even had an Amish cookbook. I nearly laughed to see it on the shelf with all the others.

I turned toward Penny. “What a great collection.”

“It’s one of my many hobbies,” she said, seeming a little relieved to be talking about it. “Buying cookbooks. Of course, I like to cook too, although now that it’s just me I don’t do it much anymore. Feel free to borrow any of these—anytime.”

My gaze fell back on the books.

“Speaking of cooking…” Penny leaned against the counter. “I’m acquainted with the couple who own the café downtown. I called them a few minutes ago, after you told me you needed a job and before I spoke with your mother. They still have an opening, but now it sounds as if you’ll be returning home.”

“I’m not sure if I will or not,” I said. “So I would like to meet your friends.”

“But your mother—”

I wanted to say, “Can be a real pain,” but instead I smiled and said, “She said she told you I might choose not to go.”

“She did, but it seems to me—”

“Thanks,” I said, “but I really am interested in the job. I wonder if it was the same place that had advertised for a waitress online.”