Amish Sweethearts (40 page)

Lila joined in, and they said the rest together, slowing down more and more toward the end.

“We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind;

In the primal sympathy

Which having been must ever be;

In the soothing thoughts that spring

Out of human suffering;

In the faith that looks through death,

In years that bring the philosophic mind.”

Lila swiped at a tear. “It’s so much more depressing than it was four years ago.”

“That won’t be us,” Zane said. “Things will work out.”

“‘The faith that looks through death . . . ’ What do you think that means?” Lila asked.

“That faith survives loss,” Zane said as he stopped at the back of the line at the border crossing. “It has to. Otherwise what hope do we have?”

She pointed to the flower on the quilt, next to the gate. “It’s the flower from the poem,” she said. “That’s what it represents to me anyway.”

“The quilt is beautiful,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

They inched along in the line. Lila retrieved her passport card. The uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach grew stronger. Shouldn’t she feel excited about what was ahead of her? Zane was going to join the Amish. She was going to marry him. It was her dream come true.

And yet . . . it wasn’t.

23

A
fter they crossed the border, for the next two hours as Zane drove through farmland toward the nearest Amish settlement, he silently rehearsed what he would say. Nothing he attempted sounded right.

“We should stop to eat,” Lila finally said.

She was right. They didn’t want to arrive expecting to be fed. He’d wanted to get to the Amish settlement before dark but soon after would have to do. They stopped at a restaurant in Hamilton, ate quickly, and then kept on going.

Once they neared the settlement, Zane pulled into the first Amish-looking farm they saw. The smell of a dairy greeted them. In the dim light, the siding on the house and barn both appeared worn and not nearly as spruced up as what they were used to in Lancaster County.

“I’ll go knock on the door and ask where the bishop lives,” Lila said, slipping into her coat.

“Denki,” Zane answered, lowering his window and watching
as she climbed the front steps. Woodsmoke and the spicy scent of autumn filled the cold air.

A few minutes later she headed out of the house, followed by a middle-aged man who could have been Tim’s brother.

Zane hopped down from his truck, realizing he should have accompanied Lila to the door. None of this probably looked good to the Amish man.

The man extended his hand and Zane shook it, introducing himself.

“I’m John Miller,” the man said. “So you traveled up from Pennsylvania?”

“Yes, sir,” Zane said. “We’re looking for a community to become part of here.”

“But you’re not Amish.”

“That’s right. I plan to join.”

The man looked him up and down and then back at Lila. “How about if I ride over with the two of you to the bishop’s place?”

“Denki,” Zane said. “We appreciate that.”

Even if John Miller had given them detailed directions, Zane doubted they would have found the bishop’s farm. He lived on a dirt lane several roads off the highway. By the time they reached his house, it was completely dark. Thankfully a lamp shone in the window.

John led the way, and Lila and Zane followed.

Another middle-aged man opened the door. “John. What are you doing here so late?”

“I have some strangers with me,” John answered. He introduced the bishop as Matthew Miller. “My cousin,” he said with a smile. Then he introduced Lila and Zane.

The bishop invited them into a small living room furnished with straight-back chairs and a bench. A clock sat on the mantel but that was the only kind of decoration. The room
was much plainer than any Amish home Zane had seen in Pennsylvania.

John explained why Zane and Lila had come.

“I see,” the man said, looking at Zane. “What are you running from?”

Zane winced at the bishop’s insight. He thought of his father fleeing back to Philadelphia after Bub had been born, abandoning those he loved most. But that’s not what Zane had done—he’d brought Lila with him.

Zane hadn’t told John about being in the U.S. Army. He took a deep breath and launched into his story, telling about what happened in Afghanistan, being sure he wouldn’t have to return, and then getting orders to fly back.

The bishop didn’t seem sympathetic. Nor did he ask any clarifying questions about Zane being a soldier. Instead he asked, “Were you willing to join the church to marry this young lady earlier?”

“I was considering it,” Zane answered, aware of how hard the chair was. His shoulder began to ache. “After I was discharged from the Army.”

“But you’ve decided to do it now—to save your bacon, so to speak.”

Zane’s face grew warm, even though the temperature of the house was cool.

The bishop continued. “Are you wanting to use us to get out of a commitment you made?”

Zane began to feel sick to his stomach. What if that was how Lila felt too—as if he were using her?

“I’ll have to think about that more,” Zane said.

The bishop turned to Lila. “Had you considered marrying him before this?”

“Jah,” she answered.

“Have you been baptized?” he asked.

She nodded.

“So you were willing to leave the church?”

She shook her head. “I hoped he’d join. That’s why I agreed to come with him.”

“I see,” the bishop said, glancing at John. “Why don’t we all sleep on this tonight? I’ll make a few phone calls in the morning.”

Zane guessed he’d probably get in touch with Gideon. Zane didn’t know if that would be a good thing or a bad thing.

“John, can Zane stay at your house tonight? Lila can stay here.”

Zane was about to protest when a middle-aged woman and teenage girl stepped into the room from the kitchen. “I’ll show you the spare bed,” the girl said.

“I’ll grab my bag,” Lila answered. Zane followed, but he didn’t catch up with her until she was at the truck.

When she opened the passenger door and the interior light came on, he could see tears in her eyes. “Nothing about this feels right,” she said.

He nodded. Being with her felt right—but that was all. This wasn’t their community. They weren’t wanting to join for the right reasons.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I know,” she answered. “So am I. I feel so unsettled. . . .”

“I know you were troubled on the way here. But I continued on anyway.” He gazed down at her until she shut the truck door and it was too dark to see her eyes.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” she said.

He walked her back to the front porch where the two men were talking and then told her a quick good-bye. He’d been so determined not to pressure her or control her—and here he’d done it anyway. Dragging her along had been worse than leaving on his own.

Zane tossed and turned, fighting nightmare after nightmare. The next morning as the rooster crowed he finally checked his e-mail—surprised he had service. He had three from Sarge and two from Casey, all asking him to confirm he was flying out that night.

Zane groaned and closed his e-mail app. Then he dressed in the icy cold room and headed downstairs to help John with the milking. It was the least he could do after the man let him spend the night.

Two hours later he was on his way back over to the bishop’s house.

When he knocked on the door, Lila opened it holding her bag with her crazy quilt folded on top. “The bishop was right—none of this is for the right reasons,” she said to him, speaking in her softest voice. “Take me home, or I’ll call your mom to come get me.”

“What’s going on?” he asked.

The bishop stepped into view. “I went over to the neighbors and called Gideon Byler this morning. Lila gave me the number at his lumberyard. He said Lila’s father is upset.”

Zane exhaled. That was to be expected.

“And Gideon was surprised you’d do something so foolish.”

That wasn’t exactly what Zane had expected. He’d hoped Gideon might support him.

“Gideon hopes you’ll come home. Talk things through.” The bishop’s gray eyes were intense. Zane glanced at Lila. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

“We’ll leave right now.” Zane reached for Lila’s bag. “We’ll go straight home,” he said to the bishop. “And thank you for your good advice last night. It was helpful.”

Once they were in the truck and buckled in, Lila said, “I don’t think we should go home.”

Zane backed the truck onto the highway and headed south. “Where do you think we should go?”

“To Philly—to the airport.”

He cringed inside. He wasn’t truly nonresistant. He’d tried to use this Amish group. He’d never want to join it otherwise, not the way he did the district in Lancaster County.

“I know you’re afraid,” she said. “Afraid you’ll have to shoot someone again. But what if God has someone for you to save? Another child? Or a soldier?”

“He doesn’t need to use me,” Zane said. “He could use anyone.”

“Don’t say that,” Lila responded. “You were the one who scooped up the little boy. You have to trust God with this. You can’t keep running.” She met his eyes. “We should go to Philly.”

Lila was right. It was the airport or the brig. His dad was right too—he wasn’t nonresistant. He wasn’t even a pacifist, not truly.

“I don’t have my stuff,” he said. There was no way he could make it home and then back to catch his flight on time. It was at least eight hours to Philly, and he’d need to be at the airport by six p.m.

“Call your parents. Have them meet us there.”

He knew she was right. He continued on in silence.

“I’ll call your mom,” Lila said.

Zane pulled over to the side of the road, fumbling his phone from his pocket as he did.

They’d agreed to meet at a restaurant near the airport and have dinner before Zane needed to check in for his flight. Zane and Lila arrived earlier than they expected, and Zane turned off the engine and put his arm around Lila. “You’re right about me
needing to figure things out. I’ll find my peace, and somehow, some day, we’ll be together.”

She nodded but she wasn’t warm to him the way she’d been the day before.

“I’m sorry I put you in that predicament,” he said. “I wasn’t using you . . .” But maybe he had been. Maybe he still had a lot of changing to do before he was ready to be Lila’s husband.

He pulled the pieces of rock from his pocket and held his hand up to the light. “They’re jasper,” he said. “From down by the creek.” He handed the bigger one to her. “Keep this one for me, would you?”

She nodded and slipped it into her apron pocket.

He put his arm back around her and tightened his hold until his phone buzzed. It was a text from Mom.
We’re almost there. Tim and Beth are with us. So is Adam.

He showed the text to Lila.

“One big happy family,” she said, but she wasn’t laughing.

“Your Dat won’t fly off the handle, not in front of Beth and my parents.”

“I know,” she answered. “I just can’t fathom why he’d come.”

He texted back.
Okay.

Zane had gone from planning to become Amish to returning to Afghanistan all in the last eight hours. Zane figured he had a couple of more minutes and clicked on his e-mail app and then on Sarge’s last message, typing
On my way
and then hitting Send. He did the same with Casey’s last message too and then slipped his phone back into his pocket. “You should have married Reuben,” he said. “Your life would be far less complicated.”

“Hush,” she said.

“I’d like to think I’m your best friend, but all I’ve brought you is uncertainty.”