The Longing (22 page)
Nellie Mae?
Chris was struck cold.
“Nellie Mae Fisher?”
“Jah, how’d ya know?” asked the boy, scrutinizing him.
She held her hands stiffly in front of her. But now that she had turned, he could see that she was definitely the very girl he’d been unable to stop thinking of since they’d met on the road in early February. “Hello, Nellie Mae,” he said, suddenly unaware of her date.
She nodded. “Hi, Christian.”
The Amish fellow eyed him suspiciously and then looked back at her. “You two know each other?”
“We’ve met before,” Nellie Mae said, still looking at Chris.
“Well, I s’pose it’s all right, if you know him,” said the boy.
She seemed hesitant, glancing back at her date. “Jah, then,” she said. “I’ll go on home.”
“You’ll get there more quickly,” the boy urged her.
“All right.” She gave a halfhearted wave to her young man before turning to follow Chris, who was still trying to decide if this was just dumb luck or what.
He went to the passenger side and opened the car door, waiting for her to gather in her long skirt before closing it securely.
Whatever you do, be cool,
he warned himself, not wanting to seem too keyed up.
“Your friend . . . he’ll get home okay?” he asked Nellie as he started the car.
“He lives close enough, really. Just over there a ways.” She pointed. “Not sure how we broke down. This happens lots on dates.” She laughed softly. “You just never know with a horse. . . .”
“You’ll have to help me find your house in the dark.”
“Oh, ain’t so hard. To tell ya the truth, I’m glad to be headin’ home earlier rather than so late.”
He glanced at her as she made small talk. “Your boyfriend seems like a nice guy.”
She looked back at him shyly. “Well, Jacob’s not my beau. Just a fella who . . .” Her voice trailed off. Then she continued. “He’s nice enough—I don’t mean that.”
Nodding, he felt a surprising sense of relief. He continued to listen, figuring it was smart to let her do the talking.
“How’d you like the pies?” she asked out of the blue.
“Well, they disappeared real fast.”
She let out a little laugh. “Ach, there are more where those came from.”
He was pleased by her exceptionally friendly manner. But she was clutching the door handle, keeping her eyes ahead on the road.
“You’re not afraid to ride in a car, are you?”
“I rarely ride up front, is all. When I go with paid drivers, it’s usually in a van. And we often travel in large groups if we have to go anywhere that’s not so safe for the team.”
“The team?”
She laughed softly, a melody to his ears. “What we call the horse and carriage.”
“Of course.” Now
he
was laughing, and much too comfortable with her for his own good.
“Would you mind terribly . . . well, will you tell me more ’bout my sister Suzy and your brother Zach?” she startled him by asking.
His thoughts flew back to the times he’d been with them. “Zach thought she was it, you know . . . and Suzy seemed to think the same about him.”
“Do ya think they would’ve ended up hitched, if she hadn’t drowned?”
“I know that Zach was praying about a life mate right before he met Suzy.”
Like I did not long ago
. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, sitting there demurely.
She turned to look at him. “Zach’s faith led Suzy to Jesus.” She sighed, releasing the door handle now and folding her hands. “Suzy wrote ’bout it in her diary, which I decided to read. I broke my promise to her on that, but I know she would forgive me. The scriptures she wrote and things she heard at a nearby campground—all of it—put a longin’ in my heart for more. Ach, well, I’ll be frank with you, Christian—I wanted to know what Suzy had found.”
Stunned that she was so open to talking about the Lord, he listened intently. Nearly all the Amish he’d ever encountered, Caleb and his family included, spoke little of having a personal faith. And they definitely shied away from discussing scripture.
“I’m a follower of Christ,” Nellie Mae said boldly. “So are my parents and Nan, the other sister you met.” She mentioned several married brothers and their wives who were also saved. “But they’re much less conservative—for the time bein’, anyway.”
He realized now why he was drawn to her, apart from her appealing and natural beauty. Nellie’s love for the Lord shone on her face, and he must have known it subconsciously from the first day.
“When did
you
become a Christian?” she asked. “Besides the day you were named ‘Christian,’ that is.”
He smiled at her little pun. “I was young when God called me. I didn’t wait—I opened my heart and gave Him my whole life right then. Like my dad and mom did when they were also children.”
“Your parents seem very nice, too.”
Was she trying to say that
he
was nice?
“I’m glad my parents and Zach met you and Nan at the restaurant that night.”
“Did your father like celebrating his birthday out in public like that?” Her voice was softer now.
He had no idea what she meant. “Do you and your family usually observe birthdays at home?”
“Oh, always. But we keep it very simple, with a special dessert only occasionally—no cake with candles, like fancy folk.” She paused, perhaps catching herself. Then she went on, as if not fully realizing that a “fancy” person was at the wheel, driving her home. “There’s usually homemade ice cream, and the children receive small gifts like at Christmas. And we sing ‘Happy Birthday,’ too. When we were little, Suzy once gave me a pretty little plate to put on our dresser on my birthday.” She sounded slightly sad all of a sudden.
He waited, hoping she might continue, but she fell silent for the whole rest of the drive.
Later, after Chris let her out at the end of her driveway at her insistence, he replayed the whole evening in his head. He couldn’t have planned it better. Glancing at the passenger seat where Nellie had sat, he shook his head.
What is it about her? Why is she so unforgettable?
Chris wanted to arrive punctually at the Yoder farm Tuesday afternoon. He spotted Sheryl Kreider at the traffic light in town and, feeling bad about not talking with her Sunday evening, he waved, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.
She smiled and returned the gesture.
Good
. At least she
wasn’t ticked off. He didn’t want to be without a date for the banquet.
One thought led to another, like dominoes cascading down, and Nellie Mae came to mind as the light turned green. He still was amazed at the strange turn of events, meeting up with Nellie Mae and her “fella.” If any aspect of the night had been altered at all—from Zach’s decision not to ride home with him to Chris’s choosing not to go out to eat after MYF—the chance of his driving her home would have been a big fat zero.
All the same, he’d be better off not daydreaming too frequently about a girl who was off limits to him. Reaching for the radio knob, he found his favorite station, 94.5 WDAC, “the voice of Christian radio.” He hoped to play some of that soul-stirring music for David Yoder and Caleb while they rode together to Lancaster for rehabilitation.
Help me always to be a light for you, Lord. . . .
Nearing the outskirts of Bird-in-Hand on the drive back from David Yoder’s rehab session, Chris heard David snoring. He and Caleb had made sure he was securely strapped into the locked wheelchair, positioned toward the back of the van.
Caleb glanced over his shoulder from his spot in the front next to Chris. “These sessions take a lot out of Daed.”
“And I’m sure they will for a while.” At first Chris had sat in the waiting area and studied while Caleb and his dad were in the rehabilitation room, but then Caleb had returned to wait with him. They’d talked for a short time, until the magazines lying on the lamp tables seemed to catch Caleb’s attention. So Chris had returned to his history textbook.
Now that they were able to talk more confidentially, out of the public eye, he wanted to ask Caleb about his father’s prognosis. “Is there some hope your dad’s condition will improve over time?”
“No updates lately. Daed might make some minor progress here and there, but . . .” Caleb shook his head. He looked out the window and then back down, as if unable to express something. At last he spoke in measured tones. “Like I said before, it’s kinda impossible to prepare for something like this.”
Chris nodded, wishing he could make a difference in his cousin’s outlook. “Your father seems determined, though. That’s positive.”
“Jah, well, determination’s always been one of Daed’s strengths.”
Caleb went on to speak of the many doctors involved in his father’s care and “the helpful way the People give to families in crisis—like ours now.” He talked up a blue streak as they headed toward Honey Brook.
When they were within a mile or so of the farmhouse, Chris asked, “Do you have extra help lined up for milking on the days we go to rehab?”
“Gideon and Jonah help when they can, and my sister Rebekah is comin’ now, too, three days a week. Even Leah and Emmie are pitchin’ in some with the farm work.” Caleb chuckled. “Abe’s got us all workin’ hard, that’s for sure.”
“Your dad must be proud of how well his children are all handling things.”
Caleb shrugged. “It’s hard to say with Daed.” He removed his straw hat, running his hands through his hair. “You know, I enjoy havin’ you out for milkin’, Chris.” He paused. “Not sure how to say this, but . . .”
Chris glanced at him, wondering what Caleb might have on his mind.
“Truth be told, these days, my life’s not about much ’cept work and sleep . . . and then more work. Same thing, day in and day out.” Caleb fingered his hat on his knees. “Once my brothers leave for home before suppertime, that’s the end of my day, pretty much . . . as far as someone to talk to.”
“No time for friends . . . or a girl?”
Huffing, Caleb shook his head. “That’s it in a nutshell . . . and there’s no girl. Not anymore, there isn’t.”
Unsure what to say, Chris kept his eyes on the road, his ears open.
“She’s in love with someone else—well,
something
else.” Caleb lowered his voice, and Chris saw him look over his shoulder nervously. “But my father didn’t approve anyways, so that’s that.”
“Sorry, man.”
“Jah, so am I.”
They were nearing the turnoff to the Yoder farm. “Listen, Caleb . . . anytime I can help so that you can get away from the house for a while, just let me know.”
“No need for that,” Caleb stated. “I have to admit I’m not quite ready yet to return to the Singings.”
“Singings?”
“Two Sunday nights a month the young folks get together, sing for a bit, then pair up and go ridin’ round the countryside in the dark.” Caleb pushed his hat back onto his head. “When you find the girl you like best, you ask her to marry. Then, come fall, you get hitched durin’ wedding season, ’tween November and December.”
“You can marry only two months out of the year?” This came as a surprise.
“After baptism . . . jah.” He said it so solemnly, Chris wondered if he was hinting at his own aborted plan to wed.
They turned into the driveway, and Chris heard Caleb’s father rousing behind them.
“Oh, by the way, my Daed agreed to let you bring Billy out to see the farm,” Caleb said quickly.
“That’s great, thanks. I’ll check when he can come with me.” Chris was grateful, but Caleb’s gloomy expression made him wonder if more might have been revealed about the former girlfriend Caleb seemed to still care about, if only there had been more miles to today’s trip.
It boggled his mind to think he might be the one and only friend in this trying season of his Amish cousin’s life.
Tired from hours spent breaking a strong mare but convinced the Lord wanted him to make another attempt to visit David Yoder, Reuben made his way toward the man’s dairy farm in his old, rickety market wagon, since Nellie Mae needed the family buggy to visit Rosanna King. The afternoon had turned out nice, with the sun as bright as that of a summer’s day . . . the sky clearing as far as his eye could see to the west.
He’d awakened early and tilled manure from the barn into their two gardens first thing, including the charity garden planted for the purpose of growing produce for their new minister, Elias King. Betsy had already planted Swiss chard, lettuce, onions, and horseradish. She and the girls would tend it, as well as an abundance of planted celery,
“just in case,”
Betsy had said with a smile. A creamed-celery casserole was standard fare at a wedding feast, and they would need plenty for all their guests. He assumed Betsy had Nan in mind; that daughter seemed to be out with a beau nearly every weekend now.
Reuben neared the Yoders’ place, hoping not to be turned away this time.
The poor man needs to know we care!
When he reined the horse to the left to make the turn into the driveway, he spied a large gray van parked there, blocking the way. Lo and behold, if David Yoder wasn’t being brought down out of the van on a wooden ramp built for his wheelchair. “Well, I’ll be.” From the looks of things, he had himself some outside help, all right. Reuben took a good look at the tall, blond fellow, clearly English. Was this the young man Ephram and Betsy had mentioned? He certainly did resemble Caleb quite a lot.
Not wasting any time getting down from the wagon, Reuben tied up the horse, his curiosity getting the best of him. The process of getting David safely out of the van was painstakingly slow, and he walked over to see if he could be of help to Caleb and his fancy sidekick.
“Hullo, Reuben,” Caleb greeted him.
Reuben nodded. “How are yous doing?”
Just then David himself spoke up, tilting in his wheelchair. “I’m all tuckered out, Reuben.”
“My father’s just returned from his rehabilitation,” Caleb explained politely. His eyes held the full story. The session had apparently been grueling.
“I’ll come another day, then,” Reuben said, but before he turned to leave, Caleb quickly introduced him to “Christian Yoder, my second cousin.”
