Trading Secrets (14 page)

“No way! You're getting a kitten? I'm the one who's been wishing for a kitten—and even have permission from my mom to get one. So what does your kitten look like?”

I describe the gray-and-white kitten, and despite my battery concerns, I even pause to send her one of the photos I took the other day.

“They're adorable,” she gushes. “I wish I could have one too, Micah.”

“You can if you want.”

“No way!” She shrieks again.

I describe the other two felines to her, and she decides she can't live without the striped female with the white paws. “I'll bring them home with me tomorrow,” I promise.

“I can't wait. Thank you so much, Micah. What do you think I need for the kitty?”

“I don't really know. I mean, besides food and stuff.” I remember how smelly it was getting in the woodshed. “And some kitty litter and a box.”

“I know what I'll do,” she says with enthusiasm. “I'll take Erika on a field trip to Pets R Us tomorrow. She loves to look at the fish and all that stuff. Want me to get anything for your kitty while we're there?”

“Uh, sure. Maybe just the basic stuff. In case I get home late. Thanks, Lizzie.”

“Call me when you get home, okay?”

I promise I will, reminding her that I need to preserve some charge in my phone so Dad can call me tomorrow, and we both hang up.

I'm still reluctant to return to the house. Mostly because I don't want any more encounters with Rachel, the domestic Amish goddess. Yes, I know it's pathetic to be jealous of her. But I am. So I remain out here in the cold night air and darkness. On this side of the barn, I can't even see the lights from the house. The only illumination is coming from the sky. I look up to see the stars and am stunned. They're so clear and bright—and so many! I don't know when I've ever seen the stars looking so incredibly big and bright. All I can do is stand there and gape in wonder.

Eventually the cold night air bites through my sweatshirt and I head back toward the house. Seeing the lights have been
turned off in the kitchen, I quietly slip inside, hoping that everyone else has gone to bed by now.

As I creep through the darkened kitchen, I can see the golden glow of lamplight in the front room. And I can hear voices. I pause in the doorway and listen.

“Don't go yet,” Rachel is saying in a sweet voice. “Your mamm said it's all right for you to stay up, Zach. You don't have school in the morning. Neither of us do.”

“I know, Rachel. But I'm tired. It's been a long day.”

“
Ja
, but you can rest down here. Sit down. Put your feet up. Maybe you'd like me to rub them for you.”

Zach makes a chuckling sound. “
Ja
, that would probably feel good.”

“Come on, Zach. Sit down and relax. You've worked hard. You deserve some special attention.”

Suddenly I realize how bad this is going to look when they discover I'm eavesdropping. I don't want to catch them getting all cozy together either—or Rachel sitting on the floor rubbing his feet. I tiptoe back through the kitchen, then loudly close the door and tromp back through. I act surprised to see them both still standing in the front room.

“Oh, sorry,” I say. “I didn't mean to interrupt anything.”

“I thought you went to bed,” Zach tells me.

“That's where I'm headed,” I say nonchalantly. “It's been a long day.”

“
Ja
. That's just what I was telling Rachel,” he says with a perplexed expression. Is he embarrassed that I caught them together like this? If so, why? Does he have something to be embarrassed about?

“Well, good night,” I tell them both as I head for the stairs.

“Good night,” Rachel says cheerfully.

“Good night,” Zach mutters.

“I know what you need,” Rachel quietly tells him as I go up the stairs. “I completely forgot to serve it to you after your dinner, but I made the most delicious dessert.”

“Dessert?” he says with interest.

I pause at the top of the stairs to listen a bit more.

“
Ja
. Double Dutch chocolate cake with sour cream frosting. I know how much you love it. Why don't you come have a nice big slice before we go to bed?”

Rolling my eyes and suppressing the urge to gag, I hurry down the hallway toward the bathroom. For a sweet, innocent-looking Amish girl, that Rachel Yoder sure seems to know what she's doing. As I scrub my dirt-encrusted face, I wonder if they teach a special class for young Amish women. Snagging a Husband 101—everything you need to know to get your man. Because, seriously, this girl is working it. She intends to snag Zach good—hook, line, and sinker. At the rate she's going, and despite Zach's general indecision about committing to his Amish roots, I don't think it'll be long before the two of them are walking down the aisle together, or jumping over the broom, or whatever it is couples do in these parts to tie the knot. I do know this—I can't get out of here soon enough!

I
'm surprised to see a slit of light beneath the door to the girls' bedroom. Although it's probably not even 9:00, I expected they'd all be asleep by now. I tap gently on the door, then let myself in.

“There you are,” Katy tells me. “We were getting worried.”

“Worried?” This reminds me of my earlier conversation with Lizzie, although I doubt that any images like that have passed through their minds. “I was just outside talking on the phone and looking at the stars.” I tug my sweatshirt over my head. I'm so sick of wearing these same less-than-clean clothes. I can't wait to get home and have a real bath and shampoo my hair, which is really feeling gross, and then put on some fresh clothes. Clothes that make me feel feminine—like a girl again. I'm sick and tired of playing the tomboy farmhand.

“Is Zach still down there with her?” Katy quietly asks me.

I shrug. “He was down there when I came up. I think they were having a late-night snack together.”

“I'm sure Rachel would like to do more than have a late-night snack,” Sarah says in a way that implies she knows
much more about romance than her thirteen years would suggest.

“Sarah.” Katy shakes a maternal finger at her.

“It's true. Rachel is here to trap our brother and you know it.”

I can't help but snicker at Sarah's observations, but I restrain the urge to reveal how heartily I agree with her.

“See.” Sarah smirks in triumph as she ties off her long braid and flips it over her shoulder. “Even Micah knows I'm right about Rachel, Katy. Just admit it.”

“I'm not stupid,” Katy tells her. “I know why Rachel is here.”

“It's not because of Mamm's foot.” Sarah purses her lips. “I wonder if Mamm really has a hurt foot.”

“Oh, Sarah,” Katy scolds.

“Anyway, Rachel did not need to spend the night here tonight,” Sarah declares. “She just
wanted
to.”

“What do you mean?” I decide to play dumb as I hang my jeans on a peg near my bed. I'm curious to hear what Zach's sisters think of the girl who might very well be their future sister-in-law.

“Rachel's house is not that far away,” Katy explains. “Zach could've easily taken her home.”

“But that would take only a few minutes,” Sarah adds.

“Not the whole night.” Katy reaches for a hairbrush.

“Rachel just wants to be with Zach.” Sarah's tone turns as sarcastic as a thirteen-year-old English girl. “She probably wants to do some
flirting
.”

“Really?” I frown at Sarah.

“Oh, Sarah, stop gossiping,” Katy says quietly.

“It's not gossip when it's a fact,” Sarah declares. “Rachel
is out to get Zach, and she's probably trying to get him to kiss her right now.”

“That's enough.” Katy puts a forefinger to her lips, glancing over to Ruth, who may or may not be sleeping on the other side of the room.

I feel seriously dismayed by the idea of Rachel trying to get Zach to kiss her right now, but I try not to show it. What business is it of mine anyway? Still, I'm curious. “Do you really think Rachel would do that?” I whisper this more to Katy than to Sarah.

“She would,” Sarah persists.

“Really?” I frown at the two sisters. Amish girls look so sweet and innocent and old-fashioned, it's hard to imagine one of them, even Rachel, making a bold move like this. I've never even kissed a guy myself. And I'm English!

“Ja.”
Katy just shakes her head. “Didn't you see how Rachel acts around him? She's already sixteen. She wants to be married soon.”

“That's true,” Sarah confirms. “And Rachel has been after Zach for a long, long time.”

“Rachel is a very pretty girl,” I say with nonchalance as I pull the borrowed nightgown over my head. This will be my last night to wear this soft flannel gown. I think I might miss it. “She's a good cook and a hard worker. Wouldn't Zach be lucky to have her for his wife?”

“You sound just like Mamm,” Sarah says with disappointment.

“Nothing would make Mamm happier than if Rachel and Zach made a match,” Katy admits. “And not just because she's a good cook.”

“It's because Rachel is the youngest sister in her family,” Sarah tells me.

“What difference does that make?” I ask as I tug off my grimy socks.

“They only have girls in their family,” Katy explains. “And Rachel's daed is getting old. He has a good farm. Whoever Rachel marries will inherit the farm with her.”

“Rachel wants Zach,” Sarah proclaims. “And Rachel usually gets what Rachel wants.”

“Because she's so good at everything?” I ask. “I mean cooking and sewing and all that?”

“If you ask me, Rachel is
too good
,” Sarah says quietly.

“Too good?” Despite agreeing with her about this phenomenon on many levels, I want to ask how any Amish person can really be “too good.” Isn't that what they're all striving for, why they work so hard, why they take their religion so very seriously—to be very, very good? “How can anyone be too good?” I ask.

Sarah gets a thoughtful expression. “You see . . . Rachel likes to tell others about how good she is. How she is such a
good
cook, so
good
at sewing, so
good
at housekeeping. She brags about how she'll make the perfect wife and have the perfect children and live in a perfect house with the perfect husband. And
that
is not good.”

“That's enough.” Katy gives Sarah a warning look.

“Some might even think that Rachel is proud,” Sarah says solemnly.

I know enough about the Amish to know that is
not
good.

“And they would say we are gossips for talking about her like this,” Katy tells her sister. “Enough already. It's time for bed.”

“
Ja
. . . you're right.” Sarah sighs sadly. “But I love my big brother. I don't want Rachel to catch Zach in her perfect trap.”

“How would she do that?” I ask. “I mean, Zach is smart. How could she possibly trap him into anything?”

Now both girls start to giggle.

“Don't you know?” Sarah teases, and tipping her head to one side, she puckers her lips. “They catch them by kissing,
right
?”

I can't help but laugh at her silly expression. “Yeah, sure. I guess so.”

“You see, we Amish girls aren't any different from you English girls,” she says a bit smugly.

“Do you think that's what they're doing now?” I ask with unveiled curiosity. “Do you think Zach and Rachel are down there kissing?”

Katy makes a knowing nod as she reaches for the battery powered lamp. “Sure. It's how you get a boy interested in marriage. Everyone knows that.”

Right
, I think as I slide between the coarse sheets.
Everyone knows that
. As Katy turns out the light, I close my eyes, and I try not to imagine the two of them down there kissing. But good grief—it's like trying not to think about pink elephants!

As I'm getting dressed the next morning, once again before the sun has come up, I am mindful of one thing—this is my last day in the Miller home. At least I hope it is. Thinking about how many times I've returned after I thought I was gone does worry me a bit. I totally trust my dad, though. I know he will come and get me out of here. While braiding my hair, I envision my sweet little bathroom at home—a
bathroom for one! I imagine how good it will feel to take a lovely bubble bath and have a real shampoo. I don't usually think of myself as a “girly-girl.” I leave that to Lizzie. But after a few days of living in Amishland, I'm well aware of how much I love my little luxuries.

As I wait in line behind Ruth to use the bathroom, I remember how I recently fantasized about becoming full-time Amish and how I imagined myself as Zach's wife. The thought of this almost makes me laugh. Seriously, what was I thinking? Of course, thinking of Zach just fills me with heaviness. I can't even put my finger on why this makes me sad. It's partly because I honestly felt Zach was looking for something more—something beyond the constrictions of the Amish faith, perhaps even more education. But now I wonder if he's forgotten all about that. If so, is it because of Rachel? Sure, she might make some Amish man a “perfect” wife. But for Zach? I don't think so.

As Sarah comes out and Ruth takes her turn in the bathroom, I feel guilty for my negative thoughts. I mean, I barely know Rachel. Who am I to judge her? The truth is, my reservations about this girl are all linked to my own petty jealousies. Like I think I have some kind of special connection to Zach, like I have a right to an opinion about how he lives his life.
Really?

I'm just emerging from my turn in the bathroom when I hear Rachel calling from downstairs that it's time for breakfast. Determined to mind my manners, I hurry down and take my place at the table, bowing my head for the silent prayer. Once again, Rachel plays “Mamm” by serving everyone breakfast. As I eat my oatmeal, I keep a furtive eye on Zach, watching as he interacts with Rachel. He is polite, but he
seems a bit cool and reserved too, although that might just be because he's uncomfortable or embarrassed. I glance around the table, wondering if everyone here is jumping to the same conclusions about him and Rachel. That's when I notice that Zach's mother appears happier than usual. In fact, she almost looks downright smug.

I hurry to shovel down my breakfast. As I'm still chewing the last bite of blueberry muffin, I excuse myself. “I promised to call my dad,” I say as I hurry out the back door. Even though it's a bit early, as soon as I'm outside, I hit the speed dial. Dad answers in a sleepy, gruff voice.

“Sorry to wake you,” I tell him. “But you know how it is in Amish country. Early to bed and all that jazz.”

He chuckles. “You've had an interesting spring break, Micah.”

“You can say that again—but don't.”

“Good news. Mike at Davis Field has offered me the use of his car to pick you kids up. Not only that, but he said if Zach can hang around until 5:00, he'll give him a ride home too. Sounds like he lives nearby anyway.”

“That's great, Dad. I'm sure Zach will be relieved.”

“Will there be any problem with the car, though? I wouldn't want his family to be offended by seeing their son getting into a car. I realize Zach is eighteen, so I'm not really worried about getting in trouble for kidnapping.” He laughs. “But I don't want to cause any trouble for him just the same.”

I consider this. “I'm not sure how his parents would feel about it. But what if we walk out to meet you on the road? Just in case.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“How about if we start walking that way at 3:00?” I suggest.

“Perfect.”

I'm just hanging up when I spot Katy going into the woodshed where Rosie and the kittens are staying. It looks like she's going to feed them. I hurry over to join her, telling her the good news about finding a home for another kitten.

“That's great,” she tells me as she fills their low dish with dry food that's been soaked in milk. “I won't have to find any homes now. We'll keep the male kitten to help Lucky in the barn.”

“Do you have a box or something that I can use to transport them in?”

She holds a finger in the air. “I have the perfect thing.” She leads me back outside and around the back of the shed to an enclosed storage area, then removes a pet carrier. “I got this at a garage sale for just five dollars,” she explains. “The woman told me she paid much more for it.”

“That'd be great,” I admit. “But let me pay you for it.”

She waves her hand. “No, you can have it.”

“Why did you get it?” I ask. “Did you need it to carry Rosie?”

“I thought I did. I was going to take her to the vet to get fixed so she doesn't have more kittens. But the mobile vet is coming here in a couple weeks.”

“A mobile vet?”

“
Ja
. He goes around to the farms. He will spay or neuter pets for much less than at a regular clinic. I made an appointment for Rosie.”

“Then let me pay you for this,” I insist. “You can put it toward Rosie's operation.”

She protests, but I force her to take a twenty. “It's for Rosie.”

Rachel is calling out to the children now, announcing that it's time to go to school.

“Thank you.” Katy hugs me. “I know you'll be gone before I get back, Micah. I will miss you.”

“Thank you for letting me stay in your room,” I say. “And for being my friend.”

She beams at me. “You are my first English friend.”

Rachel is calling again, sounding as if she really believes she's Mamm. “You better go,” I say as we walk back into view of the house.