Holding a Tender Heart (36 page)

Verna took a deep breath. “Thank you, Debbie. You comfort my heart more than you know.”

“I'll go look for Ida then.” Debbie left and found her way down the stairs. Lois met her coming up, but she didn't comment other than to give her head a quick shake, obviously still thinking Debbie had fallen for Paul.

In the living room, Saloma glanced up from her knitting as Debbie went by. “Is everything okay? It sounds like a lot of ruckus going on up there.”

Debbie nodded. “Everything's fine, but I won't be here for supper tonight. And Verna's leaving any moment for Joe's place. I guess she'll get you caught up on the news.”

“
Yah
, I suppose.” Saloma appeared concerned. “Maybe you could give me some of the details?”

Debbie was ready to begin when Ida came up the basement stairs. Saloma glanced toward Debbie. “Is it okay if Ida hears this?”

“I was on my way to tell her anyway,” Debbie said. When Ida sat down, Debbie ran through a short version of how the day had gone.

“This is a
gut
work you're doing,” Saloma proclaimed when Debbie finished. “
Daett
may have a fit though about these transgressions Joe and Paul have committed. To say nothing of having this all spilled at the trial.”

“You know
Daett
will,” Ida affirmed.

Debbie took Ida by the arm and whispered in her ear. “Come, I need to speak with you in private.”

Saloma didn't object as Debbie ushered Ida out on the lawn. Debbie paused a distance from the house, underneath the tree where the shade fell.

“You're scaring me!” Ida said. “What's wrong?”

Debbie took a deep breath. “I wanted to warn you about what I'm doing tonight. I'm going out with Paul Wagler for supper. But it's not what you might think.”

Ida took a moment to absorb the information. “You know I wouldn't stand in your way…if you want him, Debbie. I have no claim on Paul.”

“Look, Ida. It's nothing like that. I don't care about Paul. But he insisted because he wants to explain himself so that I don't hear the news secondhand or when he testifies. I want to make testifying as easy for him as I can. It's important that Paul testifies. I know he has ideas in his head about me, but I don't care for the man.”

“I understand.” Ida's hand was on her arm. Her gaze searched Debbie's face. “You don't have to feel bad.”

“Ida, please know I don't
want
the man. I never will. What his feelings are I can't control. I'm doing this for Joe and Verna. Honest! I hope you believe me.”

Ida's voice was sorrowful. “I do, Debbie. But I'm afraid Paul doesn't share your feelings. And he's used to getting what he wants.”

Debbie sighed. “Well, he hasn't run into a former
Englisha
woman yet. We have minds of our own, you know.”

“That's what he likes about you,” Ida said.

Debbie didn't answer because she knew Ida was probably right. The girl had Paul figured out better than he did himself.

“Maybe you should consider him.” Ida met Debbie's gaze.

“And maybe you should be more selfish,” Debbie shot back.

They both laughed. And then Ida's face grew serious.

“What a mess life becomes sometimes.”

“You can say that again. I've got to change clothes if I'm to pick Paul up at six. I should wear an
Englisha
dress, I think. And here Verna comes. Should we help her get Buttercup ready?”

“I'll help.” Ida motioned toward the house. “You go change.”

Saloma wasn't in the living room when Debbie entered the house. And she didn't see anything of Lois upstairs. Noises were coming from Emery's bedroom, so Lois was probably cleaning it. Debbie changed into her yellow polka-dot dress with the short skirt that came above the knees. She grabbed a black shawl and wrapped it around her waist for walking out of the house. The point was to shock Paul and, thus, discourage his intentions, but this might prove too much for either Bishop Beiler or Emery if she met them. Thankfully they were both still in the fields. When she came back from Lewistown, the hour would be late and dark. If either of them were still up, the shawl should suffice again.

The shawl tangled up on the car seat when she climbed inside, so Debbie tossed it aside. She'd honk the horn at the Wagler farm, and Paul could come out to meet her. If she had to go in the house, she'd park out by the barn and wrap the shawl around herself again. In fact, if she gave Lavina a glimpse of the yellow polka-dot dress her daughter-in-law ardor would probably cool a bit. But then Bishop Beiler would have to deal with a possible ill report that would circulate through the community.

Oh well, they would all get this straightened out eventually.
Debbie glanced at her watch as she drove toward the Wagler farm. There was still plenty of time—even enough to indulge in her old habit. She could swing past the Knepp farm, but she decided she'd better not. Alvin would recognize her. Surely there was some positive way to attract his attention. Perhaps Verna could help her with ideas on how to fit into an Amish lifestyle—something that would impress Alvin once this was all over.

Debbie soon pulled in to the Waglers' driveway. She hadn't even paused at the end of the walk when Paul dashed out. He looked spiffy in his Sunday jacket, which wasn't a good sign. Paul had taken the time to dress up.

“
Gut
evening!” Paul settled into his seat and took in her yellow dress and bare knees with a quick glance. “Got the
Englisha
outfit on, I see.”

“Do you have anything against
Englisha
girls?”

“
Nee
, but I thought you were turning Amish.”

Debbie didn't answer as she turned the car around in the barnyard and drove past the house again. The
Englisha
dress wasn't such a good idea after all, she thought. She glanced toward the house. A face appeared in the kitchen window for a second before it vanished.

“They're just curious.” Paul grinned. “By the way,
Mamm
said she had a
gut
visit with you today.”

“I suppose she did.” Debbie replied. She reached between the seats and produced the lemonade glass. “I was supposed to give you this to return.”

Paul slid the glass under his seat. “I hope my
mamm
didn't say too much…about…”

“Let's just say I got the message,” Debbie said.

He met her gaze. “It's no secret I'm quite impressed with you, Debbie.
Mamm
didn't get that wrong.”

Debbie grimaced. “You ought to think about Ida or some other decent Amish girl who doesn't carry
Englisha
baggage like I do.”

“Ida?” He appeared puzzled and then shook his head. “Surely not, Debbie!”

Debbie rushed out the words. “Ida's just one example among many. She's a decent girl, and you ought to think about her.”

“Are you Cupid now?”

Debbie laughed. “Believe me, I don't have much of a track record in that department. All my girlfriends from college found boys on their own. And look at me…not too much success.”

He tilted his head sideways. “That's because the right boy hasn't come along. Now look at me, for example. How could you do better than this?”

“Cocky, are we? Where did you learn that?”

He laughed but didn't answer the question. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Andrea's Pizzeria in Lewistown, where wonderful things happen,” she teased.

“You really are something, Debbie.” He appeared quite serious. “And refreshing and original. I could live with that.”

“And all in a yellow polka-dot dress!”

Paul didn't answer as they approached the edge of Lewistown and made their way downtown. When she had parked and they both stepped out of the car, Paul looked at her intently. “Not bad if I must say so myself.”

“That's quite sinful for an Amish boy, Paul.”

“Beauty's not wasted on me.” He held out his elbow. “Shall we?”

He was smooth, Debbie gave him that. She linked her arm in his and marched up the street. He'd left his hat in the car, she noticed. That pinched the
Ordnung
rules a bit. He could almost pass as an
Englisha
boy with her on his arm, which might well be what he intended. She was clearly at a disadvantage, and the evening was still young.

They entered the restaurant and found a table. Minutes later they had ordered. Debbie was anxious to ask him what Joe and he had done, but she thought he should bring it up.

When the pizzas arrived, she didn't have to. Between bites of juicy pizza, the story came out.

“Well, it's pretty embarrassing to think of it now,” Paul said. “We spent a lot of evenings in Lewistown at a pub called Slick's Bar and Grill. We drank beer there, met girls, took them for drives, that sort of thing. Those dates on that paper. Most of those times I was with Joe at Slick's—or we were out with girls.”

“Joe had an
Englisha
girlfriend. Did you also have one?” she asked with some hesitancy.

“
Yah
. We stayed away from Amish girls. Too much explaining might be needed afterward—once we came back from our
rumspringa
.”

“I see,” Debbie ventured.

He colored for the first time. “You're not like the girls we met, Debbie. And I mean that.”

“So you—both of you—were with girls?”

He glanced away. “I was, but Joe really wasn't. That's why Kim's coming after him, I suppose. That was her name, Kim. She was blond, tall, and wanted more from Joe than Joe was willing to commit to.”

“So that's why she's accusing him?”

“It must be. That and probably the guys who were in on the robberies with her are making her do it.”

“Well, it will be your word against hers at the trial, I suppose. I hope they believe you. I don't understand the whole idea of a
rumspringa
. If you want to stay Amish, why do you have to venture out into the world and make stupid mistakes like this? It just messes everything up. What if you had fallen in love with an
Englisha
girl?”

He reached over to touch her arm, and she didn't pull back. “Maybe I have.”

She pulled away from him.

He reached for her hand this time. “Debbie, the past is the past. One can always begin anew. I wanted to clear myself with you. I
like you. I'd like to see us spend more time together. But you have to know I would have helped Joe anyway.”

“I believe that,” Debbie said. “And if you testify, they'll surely let Joe off.”

“If they believe me.”

A few minutes later, they'd finished their pizza. “I think we should go,” Debbie said, standing up. There was no rush, but she needed out of there. Paul affected her in spite of her best efforts. This time could lead nowhere—and she told him so.

“There must be hope for us, Debbie.” His gaze pleaded for understanding.

“I'm sorry, Paul. I don't hold anything against you, but as for there being…feelings between you and me…
no
.”

He fell silent.

On the way home she filled the time with bright chatter. This wasn't over, Debbie reminded herself as she dropped him off and bid him good night. She knew his type.

Thirty-Four

O
n the Tuesday evening of the following week, Bishop Beiler sat on the couch in Deacon Mast's living room. Outside, the blaze of a summer sunset colored the horizon and heat shimmered across the fields. Above his head, the gas lantern Deacon Mast had lit moments before hissed its low tune. This ministers meeting had been scheduled only yesterday, and Minister Graber and he had been the first to arrive. Minister Kanagy even now was pulling into the driveway. Deacon Mast jumped up from his rocker to rush outside and assist him.