The Scent of Cherry Blossoms: A Romance from the Heart of Amish Country (16 page)

That’s what she was doing, wasn’t it—coming to discover if Aden cared enough to keep seeing her?

At fifteen she’d known that if she and Aden ever tried to cross the forbidden lines, the pressure that loved ones would put on them to end the relationship would be powerful. And that was just the first step. If she and Aden ignored their families, the church and the community would be informed, and even more pressure would be applied—a lot more.

She’d spent years consoling herself that staying in their own faith communities was the right thing for her and Aden to do. But she couldn’t believe that lie any longer. She’d fallen in love. She might have doubted what she wanted from Aden before arriving in Apple Ridge three weeks ago, but she’d never be able to deny it again.

Maybe she was a fool to hope he could ever love her enough to go against what his family and church demanded of him. She walked around to the back entrance and went straight into the kitchen. Aden stood at the stove, flipping hamburgers and bacon. The aromas made her stomach growl, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since last night’s supper.

He tossed a patty onto a toasted bun, added lettuce, tomato, and a strip of bacon, squirted condiments, and slapped the other half of the bun on top. When he turned to pull a wire basket full of french fries
out of the deep fryer, he caught sight of Annie. He froze, his hand inches from the handle.

“I need you to tell me what’s going on, Aden.”

He pulled the fries from the grease and dumped them into the stainless steel container. After salting them, he put some on the plate beside the burger—a couple of them missed and fell to the floor. Without bothering to pick them up, Aden put the plate on the pass-through and tapped the bell.

Leaving an unfilled order slip on the counter, Aden turned off the stove and ushered Annie to a back corner of the kitchen, out of sight of the pass-through.

“It’s not a g-good idea for you to be here,” he whispered.

“I couldn’t let you disappear on me like that. Do you know how it feels to be alone and waiting for someone who doesn’t show up? It’s miserable.”

“I d-don’t want you to f-feel that way. But sneaking around … it’s wrong. We b-both know it. And you n-never even want to t-talk about what it will take to be together.”

As much as she wanted to deny what he’d said, she knew it was true. “I can’t bear to think of hurting our families or of what Daadi will do to your business. I just want to be together, Aden.”

“M-me too. B-but that’s n-not enough, is it?”

“Aden?” Roman’s voice filtered through the kitchen. “Aden, where are you?”

He left Annie and walked up to his brother.

“Moses is here. Says he needs to talk to you.”

Annie’s heart pounded with fear. She didn’t want to be yelled at in front of a diner full of people.

Aden pulled the white apron over his head, tossed it onto a counter, and strode out of the kitchen into the seating area.

Annie tried to think of the best thing to do. Should she go out the back way so her grandfather wouldn’t see her? She couldn’t possibly make it home before he did. Eventually he would ask where she’d been, and she’d have to tell him the truth. The minutes ticked by, and her head ached from the rush of blood pounding in her ears.

“M-Moses, wait,” she heard Aden call.

The kitchen door flung open, and Daadi’s frame filled the doorway. “You need to go home. Now.”

Aden moved between Annie and Moses, as if unsure what her grandfather would do next.

“Yes, Daadi.” Though she longed for another glance at Aden, she didn’t dare as she went toward the back door. It was all she could do not to throw herself into Aden’s arms as she neared him.

“I don’t mean my home,” Moses informed her. “I mean yours.”

“What?” She stopped short, struggling for air.

“I’ve already hired a driver. He’s waiting out front to take you back to the farm. As soon as you’ve packed your things, he’ll drive you home.”

“But, Daadi—”

He gestured toward the door. “Now, Annie.”

She hesitated.

“Do I need to remind you that this place has electricity because I remain a business partner?”

His threat worked its way through her, leaving her dizzy and weak. Her knees gave way, but before she collapsed onto the floor, strong arms caught her and kept her on her feet. She looked up at Aden, whose misty eyes told her he hated what was happening, but he had no solutions.

She longed for him to promise he’d wait for her, like her Daadi had waited for her grandmother Esther. Annie didn’t expect Aden to buy fields and plant cherry trees on them. But he could at least tell her he’d write while they were apart, to keep their relationship alive until years from now when her Daadi’s heart softened and he wasn’t so set against them.

Aden helped her stand, but he didn’t utter a single word. Moses waited, and she was grateful he didn’t jerk Aden away from her.

Her head spun. “Aden?”

He backed away from her, and her heart shattered. When a horn tooted, she ran out the back door of the diner, grateful for a vehicle that would get her away from here.

A
den sat on one of the many benches set up in his own home for the Easter Sunday service. The bishop held out his hands. “Let’s pray.”

The gentle noise of two hundred people quietly shifting from their seats to a kneeling position reminded him of his many years of living Old Order Amish. He prayed for Annie, asking that at least she would find happiness. But he physically ached from missing her.

When the prayer time was over, everyone stood for the reading of Scripture. He tried to listen, but he kept asking God the same question over and over—if he or Annie left their church after taking a vow, would He forgive them?

The bishop closed the Bible, and everyone took a seat. A visiting preacher stood and began singing “Neither Do I Condemn Thee.” It was a favorite Easter song that wasn’t in the
Ausbund
. He, along with everyone else, had learned it in English while attending school.

He’d sung it many times, but this time the words washed over him as he sang.

Aden poured out his heart in prayer while singing the words, and suddenly, like sunrise after a winter’s night, he knew that he had no sinful motive for leaving his people and that God would not condemn him for it. Powerful thoughts about loyalty and faithfulness ran through him, but, oddly, every single one seemed to point to the fact that he had the freedom in Christ, if not among his own people, to be forgiven for breaking his word and to pursue Annie.

One brick wall that separated him from Annie crumbled to the ground. But only one. He probably faced half a dozen more.

This morning, as dawn was breaking, he’d gone for a walk, meandering on and on until he found himself in Moses’s orchard. The cherry blossoms, which had just begun to bloom when he saw them last, were already starting to fade and fall off the trees. He’d missed the brief window of time during which he could have enjoyed their full effect.

Had he also missed his chance to win Annie’s heart?

It was getting dark when Roman finally got away from the church crowd and went toward his bedroom. He grumbled to himself about
Aden disappearing right after the church meal and leaving him to help Mary hide eggs all afternoon. He’d been tempted to hide the lot of them in a pile of fresh dung.

Because it was Easter, his mother had made a few special items for the after-service meal—pickled red beets with dozens of boiled eggs added. The eggs were a pink color, and people seemed so pleased at their beauty and taste. Later that afternoon the older children and some adults hid Easter eggs for the younger ones to find. The Amish didn’t include the Easter bunny, but most allowed for egg hunts and chocolate candy. Thankfully, the excitement over eating pink pickled eggs and hiding decorated eggs was over for the year.

Once in his room, he saw no sign of Aden.

Good. Finally he had a few minutes alone to see what his brother had been up to. Whenever he had a free second, Aden had a pad of paper out. And lately he hadn’t been willing to show Roman anything, which only made him more curious. What was Aden doing that he didn’t want even his own brother to see?

Perhaps he wasn’t drawing at all. Could Aden be writing letters to Annie? If they were still communicating, their feelings for each other would grow stronger, and who knew where that would lead?

Roman had seen his brother stash sketchbooks in his footlocker for years. Whenever Roman had questioned him about the contents of his footlocker lately, Aden had told him to mind his own business.

What else might his brother be keeping in his private storage? Perhaps love letters from a Mennonite girl? Roman gingerly lifted the lid of the footlocker and peeked inside. He saw no envelopes—just neat
stacks of sketchbooks, the top one sitting slightly askew. Roman reached in and picked it up.

This was the one his brother had been working on most recently. He recognized the cover—which had been slammed closed countless times whenever Roman came into the room. Unable to squelch his curiosity, he opened the cover. On the first page was a tiny tree in the middle of a large field, a circle of dirt around its trunk. He turned the page. In the second drawing, there were two trees—one just like the first, the other a little bigger. As he flipped through pages, each one had a new tree among progressively larger versions of the previous ones.

Finally he came to a sketch of a field full of stark, bare trees. In the next drawing, the trees had tiny buds. After that, just-opening blooms.

The last picture stole his next heartbeat. The page was covered with vibrant green trees bearing an abundance of cherry blossoms. The delicate shades of pink and vibrant tinges of red made the picture seem so real he could practically smell the orchard. Aden must have put a lot of time and work into this one.

Though Roman would have loved to linger on this drawing, he wondered what came next.

He set the book aside and picked up another one. In it he found drawings of Annie. Some were of just her face or a portion of her face. A few were of her hands, the back of her head with her Mennonite prayer Kapp, or a closeup of her eyes. In others she was standing in the orchard, sitting at the counter in their diner, picking up plates from the pass-through.

Shaking off feelings of guilt, Roman dug deeper in the footlocker,
suddenly hoping to find drawings that didn’t have something to do with Annie. But book after book was filled with her. Aden had been drawing pictures of her as far back as the year Roman and his Daed were injured, when Annie and her grandfather had helped Aden keep the diner running during their rehab.

He discovered pictures of Mamm, Daed, Roman, and their siblings throughout various stages. Some depicted Christmas mornings, church baptisms, or weddings. But Roman couldn’t find even one of any other girl.

Was this how Aden had always felt—that Annie was the only one for him? He’d never said anything. Never pursued her.

Roman’s blood rushed through his body, making him feel lightheaded. Aden was trapped too?

Guilt mixed with self-doubt. He’d been selfish to try to keep his brother to himself instead of helping him find ways around the obstacles he faced.

His heart pounded, and he had to talk to someone. No, he had to talk to Marian. She was the only one with enough guts to tell it like it was. He put the sketchbooks back in the chest and wheeled himself through the house. He shouldn’t call her on a Sunday, but he went straight to the phone shanty.

He scrolled through all the numbers that came up on the caller ID, hoping her number was still listed. She’d called him a little over three weeks ago. If they’d received too many calls since then, it wouldn’t still be there.

Finally he saw it. Vernon Lee. Her father. He punched the Dial
Display button and waited. Five. Six. Seven rings. One thing about the Amish and their phone shanties, they set their phones to ring as many times as possible before the answering machine picked up.