The Scent of Cherry Blossoms: A Romance from the Heart of Amish Country (4 page)

E
llen scooped a shovelful of mulch onto the soil. She turned the blade into the ground, stabbing and mixing the old dirt with the new fertilizer.

The sun against her back radiated its warmth through her wool coat. It wouldn’t be time to plant for another four weeks, maybe more. But every year about this time, she invited the coming spring in this manner. It was like putting out a welcome mat. She gladly received every season, knowing it brought its own special reprieve. By summer’s end, after having plowed, planted, weeded, and harvested through two seasons, she’d be ready to embrace a sleeping garden and soon afterward the first snowfall.

Marriage and raising children had its seasons too. But it was getting harder for her to embrace the season they were in these days. Since the farming accident had damaged her husband’s and her son’s bodies, it seemed that life had moved from a home on a plot of earth that enjoyed four seasons to a shack built on frozen tundra.

But she trusted the One who’d made the very first garden. He knew how to prepare and strengthen her for life. She went to her
knees, grateful for the solitude of this place. Whispering prayers for her family, she churned the dirt with her gloved hands.

The kitchen timer inside her coat pocket rang in quick succession, reminding her she could linger only a little while longer before hitching the horse to the rig. She pulled it out of her pocket and reset it for ten more minutes. Her moments with God had to draw to a close, but she wasn’t quite ready yet.

Roman had gone to her brother Ernie’s place yesterday, so she and her husband would help at the diner today. David had gone to work with Aden at three thirty that morning. He could stay on his feet for only short periods before the pain became intolerable, but he was hoping to last until lunchtime, when she would relieve him.

The sound of dried leaves and grass crunching caused her to study the patch of woods behind her garden. It could be someone’s cat or dog moving about, but the noise had a rhythm to it, like human steps.

A young woman emerged from the trees, wearing a flowered dress and a navy-blue coat and carrying a small basket.

Annie?
Ellen’s heart picked up its pace. She rose to her feet, knocking dirt off the front of her black apron. She refrained from calling out to her visitor in case she was one of Annie’s sisters, though they didn’t visit their grandfather nearly as often as she did. But the girls did favor one another, especially at a little distance. Moses Burkholder had become a business partner of Zook’s Diner before Ellen was born, and he’d been a neighbor since the day she married into the Zook family. Of his four granddaughters, Annie held a special place in Ellen’s heart. But she couldn’t reveal her favoritism.

The girl waved.
“Guder Marye!”

It was Annie. Her smile could thaw a winter freeze, and an unexpected joy engulfed Ellen. Annie had come to Apple Ridge around Thanksgiving, but her grandfather had bronchitis then, and Ellen saw her for just a short visit.

Ellen hurried to the cattle gate and opened it. “Annie,” she called to her. “What a nice surprise. I hope you’re not in Apple Ridge because your Daadi Moses is sick.”

Annie cast her eyes downward and shook her head. “No, he’s well. Denki for asking.”

“Gut. Then I’m even more happy you’re here.”

Annie lifted the basket she was carrying. “I brought you fresh eggs, a loaf of apple bread, and two jars of preserves I made when I was here last summer.”

Ellen leaned in and put her cheek against Annie’s, giving her a hug. “You are the sweetest thing.” Then she backed away, looking Annie in the eye. Despite the girl’s grin that revealed her charming dimple, Ellen saw unhappiness in her bluish-green eyes.

But they rarely talked about the things that weighed on Annie’s heart. Ellen looked at the basket and decided to tease her. She clicked her tongue, mocking disgust. “Look at what you’ve done.”

Annie angled the basket away from Ellen. “Well, if you don’t like it …”

Ellen grabbed the basket. They shared a laugh while she shut the gate and then put her free arm around Annie’s shoulders.

“How are you, child?”

Annie’s chin trembled slightly, as if she might be trying not to cry. “By the looks of your actions, you’re as eager for spring as I am.”

“I’m trying to hurry it along.”

“I’d be glad to help you with that.”

Ellen’s heart warmed. “The way you said that, I have to ask if your grandfather sent you over to give me a hand for a bit.”

“He did. You know Daadi Moses. He’s usually under the weather when I come here and keeps me really busy, but since he’s not sick, he’s got his week all lined up and has almost nothing for me to do. He said if I was being useful, I could stay until dusk. Even later if I call him first.”

Ellen chuckled. “Child, you are useful to my soul even if you do nothing but keep me company.”

“Denki.” Tears brimmed for a moment. Then she cleared her throat and motioned toward the patch of woods. “It wasn’t easy getting here. There’s another fallen tree on the path.”

Ellen knew Annie had faced more of an obstacle than a fallen tree to get to Apple Ridge. Based on the little bit of news that had traveled from New York to here, Ellen knew that the family had grown more dysfunctional by the year since Annie’s Daed left them. And the sweet girl’s mother blamed her own father, Moses, for a lot of the problems the family faced. But Ellen doubted Annie knew that or the story behind it. “Regardless of the problems, you’re here now.” She put her arm around the young woman’s waist. “Just goes to show that fallen trees, no matter how strong they once were, can’t block you from following your path.”

Annie swiped a tear off her cheek. “You always say just the right thing.”

This conversation reminded Ellen of who they were—unrelated neighbors who rarely talked freely about things of the heart.

After Moses’s wife died, he became a single father to three-year-old Mabel. He remained a brokenhearted widower throughout Mabel’s young life, and he knew precious little about raising a headstrong girl. Alarmed at the choices Mabel was making at eighteen years old, he made decisions for her and set her future in stone. A little more than two decades later, Mabel’s third child, Annie, had grown into the adoring daughter Moses never had.

The kitchen timer rang out, making both of them jump. As they laughed, Ellen pulled it out of her pocket and turned it off.

“Do you want me to run into the house and get something out of the oven?”

Ellen chuckled. “This timer has nothing to do with my kitchen. I need to get to the diner.”

“I can fetch the horse for you and hook her up to the carriage.”

“Denki. You know …” Ellen paused, excited at the thought of having Annie’s help. “We could use your help serving folks today.”

“I’d love that. I haven’t served tables at Zook’s since I was fifteen.”

Some days it seemed like an eternity since Annie had sacrificed a year of her life to help out at the restaurant while David and Roman battled their way to being able to work again. Ellen had intended never to ask for another restaurant workday from the sweet girl, but she sounded eager to go.

“We’re really busy at the diner this week. A young couple from the community has relatives and friends in town for their wedding, which is taking place next week. They’re using the diner to feed folks a few meals because the bride-to-be is determined to keep things as easy on her elderly parents as possible.”

“Elderly parents? How old is the bride?”

“Only a few years older than you, but she was a late-in-life caboose for her parents. Anyway, between that and the fact that Roman went to my brother’s place to fix a generator, we need your help.”

Annie’s eyes lit up. “I’ll go hitch up the carriage right now, and we can be on our way in no time.”

After parking the rig under the lean-to near the diner, Annie followed Ellen across the parking lot. As they went inside, the bell jangled loudly, and Annie inhaled the aroma of fried bacon and grilled hamburgers. A customer stood at a rack of gum and mints near the diner’s register.

Behind the pass-through, Aden stood at the grill, quickly preparing food. Five booths were filled with people—most of them Englischers. In the private room she saw a large table partially covered with place settings. A stack of plates with a lot of flatware on it indicated that whoever began setting the table had been interrupted. She assumed that’s where the Plain folks would be served when they arrived. Most of them wouldn’t be used to eating at restaurants and
placing orders, so food would be placed on the table family style, just like eating a meal at home. Aden once told her that’s how the Amish handled meals after the church service too. Whatever she knew about the differences between the two groups—horse-and-buggy Amish and horse-and-buggy Mennonites—Aden had taught her.

His Daed crossed the restaurant, coming toward them with a pitcher of water in one hand and iced tea in the other. His long beard had turned completely gray since the last time she saw him. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and he walked stiffly, grimacing slightly at times.

He caught a glimpse of his wife and stopped, setting the pitchers on an empty table. “Well, hello, gorgeous. Take a seat, and I’ll be sure to get your order next.” He winked. “As long as I get a kiss for a tip.”

Ellen giggled. “David, you remember Annie.”

He looked at her. “Annie?” He frowned and turned back to his wife.

“Ya.” Ellen nodded encouragingly.

“The only Annie I know should be about this tall.” He held his hand four feet off the floor. “And she had her hair in braided pigtails the last time I saw her.”

Annie smiled, thinking about all the times he’d joked with her by tugging on her hair and squealing like a pig. He’d seen her a few times since the accident, and she wondered if he was teasing or if he truly didn’t remember. Ellen once told her that since the accident, his memory wasn’t what it used to be.

“Excuse me.” The man at the register waved a packet of gum in the air. “I’d like to check out.”

“Sure.” Ellen hurried to the register.

A call bell rang, signaling that Aden had food ready to be delivered to a table. She peered his way, hoping to see his welcoming smile, but he was too busy cooking. She returned her attention to David. He was studying the tables of folks, probably noticing the empty and almost-empty drinking glasses.

Aden rang the call bell again, setting out two more plates. David glanced at the pass-through.

“I came to help,” Annie said. “Why don’t I get the food on the tables. I’m better at that than serving drinks.”

“Denki, Annie.” He headed to the table where he’d set the pitchers of drinks when she arrived.

She hurried toward the pass-through as Aden prepared more food. Last time she came here was right after Thanksgiving when she dropped off eggs from her grandfather’s chicken farm. Aden had come out of the kitchen and spoken to her briefly, but he wasn’t one for words.

She picked up the ticket under the nearest plate.

Aden looked up. His eyes grew wide, and a smile slowly spread into a grin. “W-well, hello, A-Annie.”

“Hi, Aden.” She studied the ticket. It’d been four years since she’d waited tables at Zook’s. “Are the tables numbered the same as before?”

He nodded.

“Gut.” She grabbed the plates. “Now, if I can remember what that was, we’ll be in good shape.”

He flipped two burgers at once before glancing at her, wordlessly questioning if she was serious.

“I’m kidding.” She laughed. “It’s so busy in here today. Much better than the last time I stopped by.”

Aden smiled and nodded. He looked as though dozens of thoughts were running through his mind, but he remained silent.

As Annie served the guests, she thought about the gentle, soft-spoken man in the kitchen. After the accident, she’d moved in with Daadi Moses, and they both had worked by Aden’s side at the diner. At fifteen she became used to Aden’s reluctance to talk. Whenever she came to Apple Ridge, she’d go out of her way to catch a few minutes of talking to him, not that anyone knew that—although she was pretty sure Roman suspected as much.

She looked Aden’s way, seeing someone she’d never seen before. He was still Aden, and yet he wasn’t. The last time they’d worked together, he’d been an awkward teen who carried the weight of his brother’s and Daed’s injuries and the possibility of losing the restaurant. Now, at twenty-two, he seemed to be confident of himself in that kitchen. She wondered what else about him had changed.

She was determined to find a way to break his silence—even if she had to break every dish in the joint to get him to speak up.