The Scent of Cherry Blossoms: A Romance from the Heart of Amish Country (5 page)

A
lone inside the generator room of his uncle’s barn, Roman sat in his wheelchair, staring at the oversized metal box on a concrete slab. His palms sweated, and nausea rose in his throat. What was he doing here?

He rolled his chair back and forth—an inch one way, an inch the other—staring at the gray container.

He’d grown up working on this generator and had always had a knack for fixing motors. A hired mechanic had taught him the basics, and ever since graduating from school at thirteen, Roman had kept this thing running. But it’d looked a lot smaller to him before.

Before he’d lost the use of his legs.

Before his self-confidence had been mutilated and left for dead.

Before becoming neither boy nor man.

Did even Aden understand what it was like for him? In some ways he’d had more power and strength as a preteen than he did now, and the reality of that never dulled. Back then, he’d taken for granted feeling like a man. Now he took nothing for granted.

The square metal box loomed before him, daring him to think
he could accomplish something of value as he used to. Daring him to try anything these days without Aden by his side.

His uncle opened the barn door and stepped inside. “What do you think?” Ernie sounded desperate and hopeful. He had no money to replace the generator, and it’d take a team of professional mechanics to fix something this outdated.

Roman had arrived yesterday afternoon to a houseful of excited relatives who had a feast waiting for him. He’d never made it out to the barn. Today he hadn’t even removed the casing yet to look at the insides, but Ernie needed to believe it was fixable as much as Roman did. “I’ll have it humming like new by the end of the week.”

His uncle’s stiff body relaxed, like an uncooked noodle wilting in a pot of boiling water.

Ernie put his hands on Roman’s shoulder. “I sure do appreciate this. No mechanic would even try to get this unit working again. I started thinking I might have to sell a few cows to pay for a new generator. But if I sold that many, I’d have a new generator to hook to the milkers but no cows to milk.”

Roman eased his wheelchair forward and laid his hand on the casing, noting the sandpaper feel of the gray paint. “Bring me your toolbox, and we’ll get started.”

The constant hum of voices and flatware clinking against plates stirred both encouragement and anxiety in Aden. Today was Tuesday, the first
day of serving Mattie’s and Gideon’s friends and loved ones. He had the rest of the week to get through before Roman returned. Roman was right. They knew of no other Amish couple who’d relied on a restaurant to help meet the needs of the visiting family, and it could be the last time anyone in the surrounding area ever tried using Zook’s this way if he messed it up. What had he been thinking to encourage Roman to leave this week of all weeks?

He needed to get a head start on baking pies, marinating chickens, and chopping vegetables for tomorrow, not to mention seasoning forty pounds of hamburger meat and pressing it into umpteen dozen patties.

Annie brought another ticket up to the order wheel and attached it. She tucked the pencil behind her ear and leaned in. “The dupe is in. One hockey puck. One tender. Veg it double.”

She was having a great time using all sorts of so-called restaurant terms that he wasn’t sure were real. He enjoyed her sense of playfulness, especially as the workload increased. If he didn’t stutter, he would respond with his own made-up terminology and wisecracks.

He placed two plates of food on the pass-through and jerked a ticket off the order wheel.

She grabbed the plates, compared the ticket to the food, then hurried to the right table.

Aden wasn’t sure how he’d have handled today if Annie hadn’t shown up. Roman usually juggled everything outside the kitchen while Aden handled everything inside it. With Roman gone, Mamm had seated people and run the register. Daed had helped as best he could
until he had to leave to pick up Aden’s four school-age siblings from school. Without Annie bustling food from the kitchen to the tables, there would have been a lot of unhappy customers today.

Annie came to the window. “Okay, Aden.” She grinned, making the familiar dimple in her right cheek. “Baker needed for table five.”

At twelve she’d been a skinny tomboy with freckles and a wayward dimple, neither of which bothered her. At fifteen she’d been self-conscious, avoiding smiling as much as possible and staying out of the sun in hopes her freckles would fade. Since then she had continued changing as she came into the diner every so often. Now, at nineteen, she was a slender beauty who seemed comfortable with herself and apparently liked to tease while working.

“A-am I b-being re-re-re- …” Aden couldn’t manage to get out the word
replaced
. He could hear it smoothly in his mind, just as a speech therapist once told him to do. Aden had seen more than a few doctors and speech therapists over the years, but they hadn’t been much help. Annie had asked for a baker, and he wanted to ask if he was being replaced, but all he could do was stutter. He wished he hadn’t tried to speak without Roman here to talk for him. But Annie was standing there waiting patiently, so he had to finish his sentence. “… re-replaced?”

“Ah, I finally stumped you with my restaurant slang. A baker isn’t a short-order cook. It’s a—”

Before she could explain herself, Aden grabbed a foil-covered baked potato out of the heated sideboard and placed it on the shelf of the pass-through.

“Potato.” She sounded defeated. “Fine. I didn’t stump you this time. But I will. Just watch me.”

He pointed at his eyes and then to hers, signaling that he would watch to see.

“Ya, I hear you.” She put the potato on a plate and glanced behind him. “You need a bubble dancer.” Annie picked up the plate and left.

He looked over his shoulder and saw a sink full of dishes. A bubble dancer must be a dishwasher.

Mamm carried a tub of dirty plates into the kitchen and set it beside the sink. “It’s three o’clock. Annie’s locking the doors.”

Just as he and Roman did this time every day.

“I can’t stay. There’s a meeting of church leaders at our house tonight, and I haven’t even cooked dinner.”

“Not a p-problem.” He was sure Annie would head out with her, leaving him to clean up from today’s busyness and prepare for tomorrow’s event. He didn’t figure he’d be done before two in the morning, and even then he might not be as prepared for the day’s business as he needed to be, but he’d manage somehow, as long as it gave Roman a chance to do something he really loved.

Annie came to the pass-through. “The last of the customers are ready to pay, Ellen.”

“Okay.” Mamm washed her hands and dried them on a towel. “I’ll ring them up, and then we have to go.”

Annie eyed the stack of dirty dishes and the messy work stations. “I can stay.”

Mamm looked surprised, as if the idea had never crossed her
mind. And he was sure it hadn’t. A single Amish man alone in a closed diner with a single Mennonite woman wouldn’t be on anyone’s list of wise ideas. Annie was no longer considered “his little friend,” as Mamm used to refer to her.

Mamm cleared her throat, gaining her composure before she smiled. “No, dear. That’s not a good idea.”

“Ellen, I’m not leaving Aden with this mess. He can take me home after we’re done.” She angled her head. “Unless you don’t want me …”

Aden had to assure her that she’d always be welcome, but it’d take him five minutes to say that, so he settled for a short, to-the-point statement. “Of c-course we d-do.”

Relief eased the concern on her face. “Gut. Then it’s settled.”

“I’m not sure your grandfather will be happy with you staying into the night.”

Annie wrinkled her nose. “Oh, stuff and nonsense, Ellen. He and I practically lived here when David and Roman were injured. Why would he mind now?”

Mamm’s face twisted with emotion. She apparently didn’t like this arrangement, but Aden saw no harm in it. He needed more help than his parents and siblings could give him, and Annie was available.

Aden turned off the stove. “C-call Moses and ask if he m-minds.”

Mamm shook her head. “I’d rather just take her—”

Annie slapped the top of the counter and grinned playfully. “You’re both walking on eggshells. I’ll give him a call to let him know where I am and when I’ll be home. Problem solved.”

Aden could see his Mamm wasn’t convinced, and he understood
her concern. As Old Order Amish, Aden’s family couldn’t have electricity in their home or business. But without electricity, government regulators would shut down Zook’s Diner. It didn’t matter that they could do everything using gas or generators. Government codes dictated that they have electricity.

As an Old Order Mennonite, their neighbor Moses Burkholder had the right under his church’s authority to have electricity. So Aden’s grandfather had formed a partnership with Moses years ago.

Aden was the third generation of Zooks who’d always gotten along nicely with Moses, and he’d never do anything to jeopardize their relationship. His Mamm was just being overly cautious.

Moses would have no problem with his granddaughter helping out again in their time of need, would he?

A
s stiffly as an old woman, Annie walked down the hall toward the lone glow inside an otherwise dark home. Once in the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of her grandfather at the kitchen table. She blinked, trying to keep her eyes open.

The next thing she knew the lights went out. “Better?” Daadi asked.

“Much. My eyes don’t want to work this morning.”

He’d pulled the cord to the glaring overhead lights, leaving only the dim radiance from the bulb over the stove. The aroma of coffee surrounded her, and the bright red numbers on the digital clock said it was seven minutes after four. She rarely went to bed as late as she had last night or got up this early, but Aden had needed her help getting desserts and breads prepared for today.

“I don’t like that you came in after I was asleep. That’s entirely too late.” Daadi lowered the newspaper he’d been reading. “Tell me exactly why you’ve come to visit me.” His directness was why her siblings didn’t like him, but she knew his heart. Trusted in its sincerity above all others.

When she’d arrived three days ago, he’d welcomed her openly and hadn’t even asked how long she planned to stay. But right now she could tell he was disappointed that she’d been out so late last night. Still, his accusing tone hurt.

She shrugged. She didn’t want to put him in the middle of the bad blood between her and Mamm, so it’d be best if he thought she was here of her own free will. And she didn’t want to tell him that Mamm had insisted Annie stay until Mamm decided she could return home—probably for a few weeks. Maybe for months, but Annie had brought only one suitcase of items. “You used to like it when I showed up to see your orchard of cherry trees in bloom.”

“Don’t play me for an old fool, Annie. Not you.” His gravelly voice stood on the edge of anger.

“I needed a break from Mamm.” It wasn’t full disclosure, but it was the truth.

His intense expression eased somewhat. He folded the newspaper and laid it on the table. “What time did you get in last night?”

Yawning, she sat. “Aden brought me home around twelve thirty.”

His nostrils flared, but the rest of his face reminded her of granite.

She reached over and patted his hand before grasping it. “I know. You don’t like that I stayed out so late. I don’t blame you. But like I said when I called, I was as safe as if I were here with you.”

“I doubt that.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. He wanted to keep her under his wing, while her mother pushed her to spread her wings. Mamm
wanted her to date, if not Leon, then others, maybe even lots of others. Seemed to her that the two were as opposite as humanly possible.

“Daadi, you asked me to give Ellen a hand yesterday with whatever she needed. She wasn’t doing laundry, groceries, or meals. She needed assistance at the diner.”

He sighed. “Our Lord knows that, with Ellen’s husband down more than he’s up, she needs help whenever we can give it. But I never intended for you to leave her property yesterday.”