Faith and Hope in Lancaster (The Amish of Lancaster County #1) (6 page)

Miriam was stung. She wasn’t an alien, and even if she’d been born and brought up in New York City, she wasn’t sure she would live the way the Roths did, lavishly and taking everything for granted.

“I’ll have to keep reminding myself not to assume you already know everything,” Pamela continued. “Anyway, I am married to a high-powered corporate lawyer who makes more money than we could ever use. There’s no reason in the world for me to slave away at a job that sucks my soul dry.” She chuckled. “No, I’m free!”

Miriam tried to picture that. “Then what do you do to keep busy?” she asked at last.

“My days mostly consist of shopping, attending charity functions, and lunching with my girlfriends. Sometimes I wander to museums or movies or sit in a café over a fat-free skinny mocha if I want a change. I also read a lot of books. It’s important to keep up with the zeitgeist, you know.”

Miriam immediately flashed back to her
mamm
. She must be in the kitchen even as they spoke, preparing the day’s lunch. She hadn’t had a day off as far back as Miriam could remember, never mind a life of leisure. Looking at Pamela now, with her smooth, manicured hands and designer clothes, it was impossible to think the two of them had anything in common. They might as well be the aliens Pamela compared them to.

“Money solves a lot of things, Miriam,” Pamela said seriously. “It opens a lot of doors. Remember that.”

Mikey appeared then, two frosted glasses in his hands. “Sorry it took so long. The new server didn’t have any idea what she was doing.” He set the glasses down on the table.

Pamela shot Miriam a conspiratorial glance, making her blush. “Such a nice young man you’re turning into, Mikey.”

“Oh, yes, thank you for the drink,” Miriam said, trying to ignore the funny flutter in her stomach as Mikey studied her. She glanced up and found herself studying his lips. They looked soft. She wondered just how soft, then forced herself to look away. “How much do I owe you?”

“I don’t take money,” Mikey said, grinning. “You’ll have to pay me back some other way.”

“Oh?” Miriam tried not to panic. She didn’t know what to do if he didn’t want money. She didn’t have anything else to give him. She wasn’t rich, not like Pamela and him. Maybe she should call her
mamm
and ask for help?

Pamela swatted Mikey’s arm. “Mikey’s teasing you. He is trying to say he’d like your company, isn’t that right, Mike? On a date, complete with dinner and entertainment, whatever you kids do these days.”

Mikey nodded. “I was planning to go to a movie premiere tonight. Red carpet event. You could thank me by coming along, Miriam.”

“Miri,” Miriam corrected. She frowned, puzzled by her own correction. No one had ever called her Miri, but now it seemed right. She was in New York City, wearing new clothes, sipping new drinks, enjoying new adventures. Surely she could wear a new name, too.

“Miri, then,” Mikey said. “Would you do me the honor of joining me tonight?”

“Oh, Miri,” enthused Pamela, “we’ll have to get your hair done, and your makeup, and oh, maybe even another dress!”

Miriam let herself get caught up in the excitement swirling around her. People strolled past, walking dogs, singing. The air was full of happy chatter and honking horns. She’d wanted to see what life in NYC was all about, and now she had her chance—on the arm of a handsome young man who painted.

“Only if you’ll let me see some of your paintings,” she replied at last, shocked at her own boldness.

Mikey grinned again. “I’ll do one better. I’ll even paint you.”

Graven images!
Miriam thought. The idea of being painted, of so clearly defying the
Ordnung
, thrilled and terrified her. Being painted was creating a graven image. She immediately squashed the thought. God wanted her to try new things, she was sure of it, so she could make a true decision of will when the time came. And Pamela was clearly so happy to have a daughter to dress up and send out into the world.

And Mikey . . . the way he was looking at her now, with big puppy-dog eyes, there was no way she could say no. So she did not.

“Yes,” she said, throwing all caution to the exhaust-filled winds. “It’s a date.”

* * *

Annie sat on her porch swing, praying.
Dear God, won’t You show me the way? Why has Jacob returned now, when I am betrothed to another man? And why, dear God, why do I still feel something for him?

She lurched forward, almost falling off the swing. She did? She still felt something for Jacob?

That was ridiculous, simply ridiculous. All they had shared was one kiss, while Stephen had her heart.

Didn’t he?

The horses nickered and neighed.
Some help there
, Annie thought. Right now, she would give anything for her life to be as uncomplicated as a horse’s. They grazed, they mated, they bore foals, and they galloped. It didn’t come much easier than that.

She stomped her foot. The force of it almost knocked over her glass of lemonade. It was so unfair! She trusted God to lead the way, and He was, but the message she was getting was that there was something Annie had to decide here for herself. Why, oh, why hadn’t this happened on
rumspringa
?

Then Annie hadn’t met anyone but people she considered friends, people who she had left behind when she came home. It had been fun, pretending she was going to live as an actress and trying out for plays and set design, but ultimately, something deep inside her had known that was all it was—pretending.

Stephen had sent her a letter the summer she was out running around, pretending. In it, he’d told her how the farm was doing, the horses, the crops, his
mamm
’s health, his
daed
’s fondness for strawberry preserves. That had all been pleasantly normal, even bland, but then he’d added in a paragraph about a doll.

It was a doll she’d forgotten at a Meeting at his parents’ house when she was small, a doll she’d named Judith and had pretended to feed cookies. Judith was going to be an actress, a famous movie star. She had it all figured out. She would go off on
rumspringa
, take a plane to Hollywood, and meet the people who would put her up on the silver screen.

Annie had wondered aloud to Stephen what the silver screen might look like. Was it a bright silver? Did it glitter? What would Judith look like up on the screen?

Of course, she’d cried when she’d gone home and couldn’t find the doll. Her
mamm
had brought her back to Stephen’s house to hunt for Judith, but there was no sign of her. Stephen had looked on in silence, his little boy face heavy with sorrow.

As time passed, Annie had grown and forgotten all about Judith and her games and the conversation with Stephen. And then there had been the kiss with Jacob, leaving her even less reason to remember.

But Stephen hadn’t forgotten. In fact, he’d found the doll in a wooden chest, tucked away under his
mamm
’s linens, and had included it with the letter. He wanted her to know that her dreams mattered, whatever they might be.

And that was what had brought Annie home. Not her
mamm
’s worried warnings, not the fact that she couldn’t secure any acting jobs, not even missing homemade, preservative-free bread. No, it had taken Stephen’s letter—and the doll. She would be safe with him always.

Even now, she knew that if she were to tell him she wanted something else, he would tell her to do what brought her joy above all else.

Stephen loved her, and Annie was certain she felt the same way. As her
mamm
had said, he was a good man. But then why couldn’t she stop thinking about Jacob and how he made her feel?

Annie reached for her journal and sketched two columns, one labeled S
TEPHEN
and the other labeled J
ACOB
.

Stephen was solid, reliable, kind. He was good-looking and strong and not afraid of hard work. He would be a good
daed
to any children they might have together, and he would be a devoted husband to Annie.

Jacob was short-tempered, irascible, stubborn. He was striking in appearance, ambitious, and full of ideas. He might be a good
daed
, and he did seem to care a good deal about his family. Would he be a good husband?

Annie didn’t know the answer to that question, but there was one more thing she forced herself to add to Jacob’s column. Stephen made her feel safe, but Jacob . . . Jacob made her feel fire inside. Passion.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. She hadn’t wanted to pull away, not really. That scared her more than anything, that knowledge that her body might betray her like that.

She was with Stephen! Stephen promised her a secure and predictable life. They would wed, he would run the farm, she would cook and can and do the washing. They would bring children into the world—perhaps three—and she would teach them about God and how to identify plants and how to make daisy chains to wear in their hair. She would bake them cookies, and when Stephen returned to the house after a long, fruitful day of farming, she would greet him with a hug and a mug of tea.

It was a lovely vision, a dream come true, a dream any of the other women in the village would have given their eyeteeth for. Annie knew how lucky she was, how she would be a fool to jeopardize her relationship with Stephen. She had heard stories of men who raised their hands to their wives, but Stephen would never do such a thing.

And yet, and yet Annie’s lips still burned.

Before she could reconsider, she tore the page from her journal, ripped it into tiny pieces, and tucked the journal into her apron before leaping off the porch and running as swiftly as she could. She ran without knowing where she was going, her long braid bouncing against her back, and soon the afternoon sun burning down caused her to break into a terrible sweat.

Annie’s lungs burned, she had a stitch in her side, and her breath came in pants, but she still couldn’t stop running. She could barely concentrate, but her legs pumped on, leading her forward.

Fifteen minutes later, her thigh muscles feeling like her
mamm
’s preserves, she collapsed against a tree, desperate to catch her breath. Water. She needed water. She thought longingly of the lemonade she’d left on the porch. If only she had it here now!

A hand came into her field of vision, pushing a jar of water toward her. Annie took it gratefully and drank and drank until she thought she might be sick. She reluctantly pushed the jar away, and looked up to see who had known to be ready with such a thing.

Her newly moistened breath caught in her throat. Jacob. Here. Now.

She glanced around and realized she had unwittingly run toward the tree where they had had their first kiss. A whole school of butterflies danced in her stomach, and her palms tingled. Her legs, already overtaxed, folded under her, and she dropped onto the tree’s massive roots.

Jacob joined her there. She watched his shadow mingle with hers, but she refused to lift her eyes from the grass. This was dangerous. She should not be here. He should not be here!

Anger filled her. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, steadfastly watching the ground. An ant appeared on a blade of grass, then disappeared again. A bee buzzed in the air before landing on a nearby dandelion. She was so aware of Jacob’s form next to her, she could barely keep from sobbing. “Go away,” she begged. “Go away. You can’t be here.”

Jacob didn’t move. “I’m here for the same reason you are,” he told her, and in his voice, she could hear that he had absolutely no intention of leaving. The realization made her shiver.

“Please,” she whispered, wondering what she actually meant.

He remained silent.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she forced out, her words low and hoarse from the unshed tears.

“Why are you denying what you really want?” he asked. At last, at long last, he touched a hand to her cheek, his fingers as gentle as the brush of a luna moth’s wings. Without meaning to, she turned to face him. Her breath caught again at the shock of seeing his bright green eyes turned on her, drinking her in. They sparkled like gemstones in the afternoon light, and they were full of a hunger she was afraid to put a name to. Full of a need she felt mirrored in her own heart.

That same heart thudded against her rib cage, scaring her. She dropped her gaze again. “No,” she said. “No. This is wrong.”

“It is,” Jacob agreed, startling her. He took her hand in his, and she was so surprised, she didn’t pull away. His fingers entwined with hers, and a remote part of her mind marveled at how much bigger and more solid his hand was than hers, how her slim and delicate fingers felt like china encased in a form-fitting, protective case.

They sat that way for many minutes. Annie couldn’t say how much time had passed, because it felt like time had stopped, that they were in their own private dimension. She thought, vaguely, that she should be worried about being discovered in this extremely compromising position, that she truly risked destroying the betrothal and calm stable future with Stephen. She knew that, but somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to move. To care. It all seemed so far away.

Her hand felt molded to Jacob’s, and it was only inevitable when he turned to face her, when he cupped her chin in his other hand—so huge and masculine and powerful!—and tilted it up, so their eyes met in an embrace of their own. Annie inhaled, the air tasting sweet of dandelions and honeysuckle, and closed her eyes. Jacob’s hair grazed her cheek as he leaned in, pressing gentle, tiny kisses to each of her temples and her eyelids. Warmth spread from each spot through Annie, flooding her with golden light. It was like she contained the sun within herself.

Then, just as inevitably, as naturally as birds ascended to the sky, Jacob’s lips brushed hers. A shock of pleasure rushed through Annie, and with her free hand, she pulled him closer. Their mouths pressed closer, harder, and Jacob released her hand to wrap her in his arms. She leaned against his muscular chest, feeling the pounding of his heart, the heat of his skin, the joy of his lips against hers.