The Amish Groom ~ Men of Lancaster County Book 1 (32 page)

“I’m sure he’ll want to,” Liz said, shaking her head, “but no way am I going to let him do that. Coming home now would be ridiculous.”

I tried not to breathe an audible sigh of relief.

“As long as you don’t mind playing nursemaid as well as babysitter, we’ll be fine here without him.”

“Hey,” I said with a smile, “I’m happy to be that and more. Nursemaid, babysitter, gardener, pool boy, soufflé maker, taxi driver, valet, caddie—”

“You can probably scratch caddie for now,” she interjected, and we laughed.

“Well, whatever you need, I’m happy to do it.”

Her eyes took on a grateful expression, and then, to my surprise, they suddenly filled with tears.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said, using her good hand to wipe the tears away. “I’m sorry, Tyler. It’s just everything hitting all at once, you know? I’ve kept it together since this happened, telling myself
Just wait until you get home, just wait until you get home
. Now I am home, and I’m getting stupid.”

My heart swelled with a surge of compassion, an emotion I doubted I’d ever felt for my stepmother before.

“You military types,” I scolded softly. “Always so tough, always ready to soldier on no matter what. Give yourself a break, Liz. You’ve been through a lot.”

That made her smile. Which made her cry again. With a groan, she once more wiped away her tears, laughed, and said, “Please get on out of here and call that girlfriend of yours.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Just be sure to come back when you’re done,” she added, her voice sounding almost vulnerable, something Liz had never, ever been with me before.

T
WENTY
-T
HREE

T
he weather was still so beautiful that I decided to call Rachel back from outside rather than in my room. Settling onto a patio chair next to the pool, I pulled the cell phone from my pocket and pressed the speed dial for the buggy shop. Thom answered and we spoke for a few moments, and then he handed the phone to Rachel.

“What’s going on?” she asked as soon as she came on the line. “Are you okay?”

Despite all the background noise—the whir of a pneumatic drill, the pounding of a mallet, the lilting cadence of the men speaking Pennsylvania Dutch—the sound of her sweet voice came through loud and clear. How wonderful to connect with her at last.

I assured her that I was fine. “It’s Liz,” I added. “She was injured down in Central America and had to cut her trip short and come home.”

“What?” Rachel exclaimed. “She’s there?”

“Yeah, can you believe it? I didn’t even know. I was out most of the day and just came home so I would be here in time for your call. To my surprise, when I walked inside, there was Liz, lying on the couch, all bruised and banged up and bandaged. A friend had brought her home from the airport.”

Of course, compassionate Rachel immediately began peppering me with questions about Liz’s injuries, her condition, her prognosis. I answered them all and assured her that things were fine on this end for now, that Liz was currently nestled into the couch pillows with an ice pack, waiting for her Advil to kick in.

“I don’t know, Tyler,” Rachel insisted. “Why don’t we plan to talk some other time so you can get back to her?”

I smiled. Despite all that she and I had both gone through to make this phone call happen at last, she didn’t think twice about giving it up for the sake of one in need.

“Actually, Liz doesn’t even want me in there at the moment. She’s on the phone with dad, breaking the news to him.”

“Ah. Okay. I can see why she might need a little privacy.”

Having convinced her at last, I settled more comfortably in my chair, took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “So how are you? Gosh, it’s good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too,” she said. Her tone was so formal that for a moment I feared there was something wrong, that her feelings for me had somehow begun to cool. But then I realized she was just self conscious.

“Hey,” I said, smiling to myself as I pictured her there on the phone, in the buggy shop. “You’re surrounded by a bunch of guys all pretending not to listen, aren’t you?”

“
Ya. Exactly.
”

“So you’re not free to say all the things you’d like to say. Like how much you miss me. How much you love me.”

“
Ya. Exactly.
”

“This could be fun,” I teased, “especially because I’ve got all the privacy in the world out here. Right now, it’s just me and you and this phone. I can say whatever I want.”

“I’m listening,” she replied, and I could hear the smile in her voice as well.

“I miss you so much. Do you miss me?”

“Ya.
”

“I love you so much,” I told her. “Do you love me?”

“Ya.
”

“I’d give anything to kiss you right now. Would you like to kiss me?”

“Ya.
”

“How much?”

She was quiet for a long moment. “Think of a horse in the morning, once the stable door is unlocked and opened, and how eager it is to run out into the field. About like that.”

I laughed aloud. “I hear you. Okay, I’ll stop teasing.”

“Danke
.”

I leaned forward, my voice growing somber. “Listen, I’m really sorry I missed your call on Saturday. You’ve no idea how sorry.”

“I understand, Tyler,” she replied. “These things happen.”

“I know, but I wanted to talk so badly. I really did. I needed to know how you are, if you’re okay, what you’ve been doing. And I wanted to hear the sound of your voice. A recording wasn’t enough. I wanted to hear
you.
”

“Ya.
That’s how it was here, too.”

“And there are so many things I want to tell you, Rachel, so many things I’ve been discovering.”

“Like what?”

“Not yet,” I replied, watching as a squirrel darted out from behind the shed, ran to an empty birdfeeder, and began picking around on the ground underneath for seeds. “First things first. Tell me about you. How are you? What’s been going on there since I left?”

“Do you even have to ask?” she said, and I could just picture her on the other end of the line, lips curled into a pretty smile, blue eyes sparkling. “It’s that time of year, remember.”

“Ach.
Right. Weddings. Have you been to many?”

“Been to them, cooked for them, served at them. I think we may set a record this year for marriages in Lancaster County. I’m so tired of roasted chicken! I told my mother we should do a ham for Thanksgiving this year. Two weddings later, she has finally agreed with me.”

Rachel went on, her voice growing more relaxed as she talked about various friends and relatives, catching me up on all the news I’d missed since leaving home. As she chattered on, I watched the squirrel exhaust the supply of seeds on the ground and make his way up the pole, seeking more. Unfortunately for him, the birds had beaten him to it.

“But you don’t want to hear all of this,” Rachel said finally, just as the squirrel gave up, skittered back down the pole, and ran off into the trees. “I’m sure things are much more exciting out there in California. Have you seen any movie stars? Gone in the ocean? Started drinking fancy coffees with long, complicated names?”

She was being silly, but I was eager to move on to more serious topics. “Nah. It hasn’t been all fun and games out here, you know.”

When she replied, her voice was soft, her tone gentle and kind. “Of course not. Talk to me, Tyler. Tell me what’s been happening with you.”

Relieved to have her listening ear at last, I launched right in, describing the unexplained hostility Brady had toward me, my dad’s parting comment, and how God had shown me that as I sought to honor both my brother and my father, I would find what I was looking for.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You have always shown them honor.”

“That’s not what I mean. I’m saying I came here with my own agenda. I hadn’t stopped to think that how I live the rest of my life affects my dad and Brady too. I’ve only been thinking about myself. And…and you, of course.”

“Me,” she said, suddenly sounding wary.

I hastened to explain further. “Yes. Look, I know what it means to my
Amish
family—and to you—if I become a church member or if I don’t. I’ve always known that. But what I haven’t ever thought about before is what it will mean to my family here. My
Englisch
family.”

She did not respond, so I added, “And we both have to consider that I
do
have an
Englisch
family, Rachel.”

Still silence on the other end, and more than anything I wished we weren’t having this conversation under everyone’s nose, with her right there in the middle of the buggy shop.

“We can talk about this later,” I suggested. “Considering the situation on your end, I know this isn’t exactly the time or the place.”

“That would be an understatement,” she replied, her voice now completely devoid of warmth.

I stood and began to pace there beside the pool, simply refusing to let our long-awaited call end this way, with the two of us so disconnected.

“I know you’re not about to speak freely,” I said, “so just listen, okay?”

“Okay.” Her answer was small. Afraid.

“It’s just that I realized I have to honor this family too. I have to. God expects me to. And I know that in your heart you would want me to.”

I heard her sigh deeply on the other end of the line. “What exactly are you trying to tell me?”

“I’m saying I have never felt closer to finding out who I really am. I think my figuring it out is tied up with a couple of tasks.” I began to list those tasks out loud. “I need make things right with Brady. I need to assure my father and myself that I don’t feel abandoned by him. And I need to find out why my mother left the Amish faith.” I didn’t add the final element of that list, which was that I needed to help my grandparents find healing from what my mother had done to them by leaving.

“Your mother left because she moved to Philadelphia and fell in love with an
Englisch
man.”

“She left because she wasn’t happy in Lancaster County. She wanted something she felt the Amish life couldn’t offer her. I want to know what that was.”

Another sigh. “What do you think it was?” she asked, but she sounded as if she didn’t really want to hear.

“I’m not sure yet, but I’m trying hard to figure it out.”

I went on to tell her about my mother’s interest in photography, how a box of her photos was waiting for me in a storage unit, how I was learning about photography from someone who was studying it in college. I wanted Rachel to know about Lark. To not tell her would seem as though I were trying to hide something from her.

“I don’t understand. What has learning about photography got to do with any of this? Who is this person?”

“She’s the sister of one of Brady’s friends.”

“And
why
are you doing this?”

“Because I want to know why my mother was interested in photography. Don’t you find it odd that she was? She didn’t grow up around cameras or photographs. Don’t you think that says something about her, that this was the hobby she picked up once she was no longer living an Amish life?”

Again, Rachel hesitated before answering. “I don’t know. I suppose…” Her voice trailed off, and at that moment my phone beeped in my ear.

I pulled it away to check the screen and saw a message.

Low battery.

Unbelievable. In the week I had been in California, I still had not gotten used to the idea of thinking of my phone as something that required constant surveillance from me. Brady always had his phone with him. He probably stayed aware of what his phone needed at all times.