Amish Heart (Erotic Romance) (Amish Heart Trilogy) (3 page)

Five a.m.  The sun, not up for another hour, was already brightening the sky.  Since talking with Nick yesterday, she had experienced a shift in mood, causing an easy smile to return to her face.  The thought of seeing him today made a hum play on her breath as she stoked the fire in the
special small kitchen that was set aside only for cooking and baking.  Then she milked the cow in the soft grayness of the barn, and set about making breakfast in another kitchen which was set aside for meal preparation.  Her hands flew through her tasks as she crooned a beloved hymn, hushed but melodic.

Weekday breakfasts were simple fare:  homemade biscuits and gravy, sausage, oatmeal and fresh milk from the cow.  Later, Hannah would churn butter and their mother would make baking soda cheese from the clabbered milk.  

Rebekah bowed her head in silent prayer said before and after the meal with the rest of her family, thanking God for the food, her family, and good people in her life.  She did not think of Ezekiel or include him in this prayer.  Instead, for the first time since her father ordered her to marry him, she wasn’t thinking of him at all.  The burdensome lead which had been in her limbs only yesterday had vanished. 

Nick arrived promptly at seven.  Rebekah pinned her
bonnet in place and placed cash and a list of needed items securely into the pocket of her dress, securing her pocket shut with a safety pin.  Buttons were not allowed in Amish culture.  Buttons were a sign of vanity and were not plain.  The same pins fastened her dress which was uniform to every other female’s clothing in the community, including the infants.  The only variation was in color, although they were all somber tones.  Her dress today was dark blue, which, unbeknownst to her, deepened the violet of her eyes, making them even more exquisite. 

Because she was going into town, she was allowed to wear shoes in the warm weather.  She laced up her boots tightly
; black boots in the plain style worn by every other Amish female. 

Nick beamed at her and opened the door of the Chevy van, placing her in the front passenger seat.  “Good morning!”  His
tone was congenial. 

Rebekah responded in kind, giving him a cheery “Good morning,” and a smile.

“Where all do you need to stop at?”

She needed to stop at three places for store restocking supplies and two stops for her father.  She was listing the stops as they pulled up to Leah’s home.  Leah was already waiting on the large porch, with her own list and cash pinned in her pocket.
However, it would not have mattered if Leah had no agenda for the day of her own.  Amish women did not travel alone, especially with men who were not family members. 

Upon stopping, Nick got out of the van to open the door for the pregnant woman and offered his hand to help her into the van.  Leah disregarded his outstretched hand and lifted her heavy frame into the vehicle.  English men did not understand that such touch is
verboten
, or forbidden.  Leah observed the English’s ignorance, but Rebekah’s view was different and she might not have noticed it before her engagement to Ezekiel.  She saw Nick’s thoughtfulness.  Ezekiel would not have offered his hand.  She did not consciously make the comparison between the two men, yet the perception struck her. 

As would normally occur, the two women spoke with each other in Pennsylvania Dutch for a while regarding Leah’s recent visit to her midwife.  The baby was strong, the midwife had said, and Leah was in excellent health.  Then the talk turned to names selected, something fathers decide.

“Hezekiah desires his son to be named Eli.” 

“That is a strong name for a boy,
” Rebekah granted.  “It is a name full of history.  And if the baby is a girl . . .?”

“Hezekiah says it will not be a girl,” was Leah’s simple reply.   

Rebekah felt a pinch of longing.  Leah had such an easy acceptance for everything.  She found herself once again wishing to be Leah and have . . . and have . . . and suddenly Rebekah had an intimation of what she found so desperately lacking in Ezekiel.  She still had no name for it but felt that same pinch every time she saw Leah’s eyes light up when she spoke about her husband
.  I know talking about Ezekiel will never make my eyes shine like Leah’s
.  She turned aside, crestfallen. 

Sensing her sister’s sudden melancholy, Leah started singing, reaching out her hand to Rebekah, gesturing her to sing along.  To please Leah, Rebekah complied.  It was an old song about finding joy in the Lord, and although Rebekah did not feel joyful, she sang with steady resolve. 

“Wow!  You have a beautiful voice!  What are you singing?”  Both women turned to face Nick.

“It is a church song.”

“It is wonderful.  You have an amazing voice!”  The last statement was directed at Rebekah. 

She had never been handed a compliment.  It never occurred to her what to do with one.  “I sing as well as any other,” she protested, blushing once again.  Rebekah tried to control her embarrassment, but the harder she tried, the worse it became.

Nick’s voice became softer, “No.  Not like anyone else.”

Her flush intensified, and although it was uncomfortable, it was also quite pleasurable.  Ignoring his statement, however, was the safest course of action.

“Do you sing?” 

“Not without getting smacked.  I sound terrible.”

Rebekah giggled at this, and that got Nick to laughing as well. 

“But I love music.  I can tell you just adore it, too.  Every time I come in the store you are singing or humming.”

Rebekah warmed under his notice.  Then he sent her a volley of questions:  Did she have any brothers?  Was it hard to be separated from her older sister?  What was it like to have her father be an Elder in the Community?  What did she do for fun?

“We play volleyball, softball
, and visit family.  I love to read and we all just love ice cream.”  Her eyes were drawn to his, soft and bright deep pools of brown. 

“What are you interested in?”
she asked.

“Right now I’m learning karate.”

“What’s that?”

“Ancient Japanese fighting.”

“I hadn’t figured you for someone with a temper.”

He laughed.  “It’s really more about self-control than fighting.”  He saw her trying to digest this and said with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I’m sure you’ve seen some people who need self-control.”

The only person she could think of was Jakob, Ezekiel’s eldest son.  That made her think of Ezekiel again and she shuddered inwardly, thinking that soon she would be living with Ezekiel and Jakob under the same roof.  She decided to change the subject.  “Tell me about your family.”

“I have one sister who lives in California, and my father lives here in Missouri.”

“Only one sister?”

“Yes
.”

“Why California?”
  It seemed so far away.  “Is she staying with family?”

“No.  No family.  She’s trying to get a music career going.  She’s an incredible singer, like you.”

Rebekah blushed. 

“It must be hard for her to be alone without family,” she said to keep the subject off his lavish compliments. 

“Sometimes, yeah.  Maybe.  She’s pretty independent.  She’s had to be.”

“Why?”  In Amish Communities everyone was dependent on everyone else.

“Our mom died when she was ten.  I was eight.”

“I am so sorry.”

His tone became somber.  “It was tough.  Our dad raised us.  Mostly we had to raise ourselves because he was a truck driver and was gone for long periods of time.  Looking back, I’m surprised the state didn’t come and take us away.  It’s probably because we never really got into much trouble.”

The idea that ‘the state’ or English law could take children away from their parents was new to Rebekah.
English law had terrible power; it was one of the reasons Amish avoided it wherever possible, to the point of not getting social security numbers.  It was a horrible concept, about as bad as the idea of a single woman moving away from her family to advance her work.  It just made no sense. 

She didn’t know quite what to say.  What came out of her mouth, she wasn’t planning on.  “What did your mother die of?”

“Breast cancer.  It was rough.  Most of my memories are of her being sick, although I remember helping her in her garden when I was real little.”

“You like to garden?”

“Love to.  Don’t have the time anymore.  Seems I work all the time.  I take care of my dad some.  He got hurt on the job a while back and his disability check doesn’t meet all his expenses, so I help out where I can.”

Rebekah nodded.  This is what an Amish son would do.  She was a little surprised, but pleased to find that
an English would have the same values.

“So are you married?” she asked boldly.  A half second later, her brazenness made her flush again brightly.
 
Good grief, Rebekah, shut up!

“I was.”

“What happened?”

“She . . . died.” 

She gaped at him.  She gauged him to be in his mid-twenties, certainty too young to have had such sorrow in his life. 

Again, she fell at a loss for words.  He continued, keeping his eyes on the road.  “We got married really young, just out of high school.  Then my dad got hurt at work and needed my help so I began working two jobs and wasn’t home much and I never even saw it happening.

“Turned out Jenna had gotten into drugs.  Use to shoot up between her toes so I wouldn’t see the bruises.  I knew something was wrong but . . .” His voice cracked and he took a deep breath before continuing.  “It was an overdose.  I came home one night to find her dead, lying on the bed, the needle still stuck in her foot.  It took me a long time to recover from that.”

Rebekah blanched.  Even though she didn’t understand all of his words, she understood enough.  The world of the English was treacherous . . . and so very sad.  She looked at the strain lining Nick’s face as he spoke.  She ached for him. 

“You’re very easy to talk to,” said Nick.

Another compliment.
  She murmured thanks and ventured, “You loved her very much.”

“Yes.  She was a lot like you. 
A free spirit.”

I’m a free spirit?
  She was dumbfounded. 
Oh no, I’m not!

She sought to change the subject.  “So, do you have a girlfriend?” 
Another brash question!
  Her inner Amish perfectionist was scolding her once again.  She seemed to have absolutely no control over her mouth.

He shook his head emphatically. 
“Haven’t been looking for one.”

She stole a glance back at her sister who had fallen silent in the second seat of the van.  Leah, exhausted with her pregnancy, was now asleep with her head against the tinted window. 
Rebekah was relieved that her sister hadn’t heard her being so free with Nick.

Nick peered in his rearview mirror at the sleeping woman. 
The timbre of his voice changed, becoming deeper.  “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

Before she could stop herself, Rebekah shook her head. 
Boyfriend?
  Dismayed, she considered Ezekiel.  She could not lie.  For some reason, she wanted to be completely honest with this English, open in a way she was only with Leah.  She looked around to study Leah and found her snoring peacefully.

“Not one that I like,” she admitted. 
This is wrong.
  It was a bold statement, an intimate statement.  Such a confidence told to one not close family or friend was a sin. 
Feeling this way is a sin
.  

Nick’s eyes shot wide.  “You mean you have one you don’t like?”   Even though he was driving and his attention had to be on the road, when he
peered over at her, she felt him look into her.
This is wrong.
But, she couldn’t help loving the intensity in his eyes.  It made her nerves prickle, and the heat she had experienced before seep into her veins.  She could feel her own heartbeat executing summersaults inside her chest. It was a foreign sensation, but an enticing one.  It made her want to reveal everything.  But she didn’t dare.

Abruptly she changed the subject.

“We are going to a wedding of my cousin in Wisconsin next week.”

He wouldn’t let it drop.  “So, does your cousin like her fiancé?”

Rebekah hesitated. 
I should feel violated. He has no right to ask such questions
.  But she didn’t feel violated at all.  Instead, there was the thrill of sharing something not meant to be shared.  Besides, she reasoned, she had brought up the topic herself. Still, she hesitated a moment. 
I should just say ‘yes’ or ‘of course’.  But he isn’t really asking about my cousin, now, is he?

“Liking someone is not nec
essary for an Amish marriage,” she said, inwardly cringing. 
Oh God, please don’t let him ask me about Ezekiel.
  Or was it,
please, please ask me?

“And what if they don’t like each other when they are married?”