Chapter Thirteen
Andy sat gazing at his computer screen, clicking and reading . . . leaning closer
to study the menu items on the Sweet Seasons Bakery Café website. He’d spent the entire
morning cramming for his exams, and after warming some of Rhoda’s soup for his mom
and himself, he’d allowed his overstuffed mind a few moments away from the complicated
world of prescription drug interactions and nursing procedures. Rhoda’s sweet smile
and lilting voice had been in the back of his mind while he’d studied, and with the
kids at school and his mother napping in front of her TV, he gave in to his craving
for information.
The site’s descriptions of sticky buns and fresh fruit pies were making him ravenous,
so he clicked the link for the new Mill at Willow Ridge. The ads for Amish shops listed
along the side of the screen made it easy to keep clicking and reading, and then on
a whim he typed “Amish” into Google and did a search.
What must I do to become Amish?
When that question popped up on his screen, Andy immersed himself in the various online
sites that provided answers. While he had no intention of making that huge lifestyle
change, the Lantz family and the town of Willow Ridge had taken on a new fascination
for him. What would life be like without computers and cell phones . . . without a
car and electric lights and appliances? His classes on medical technology, the legal
ramifications of life support, and the confidentiality of patient information made
the Plain life seem very down-to-earth and inviting. Even though nursing—healing people—seemed
a noble calling, there was something to be said for allowing God to decide matters
of life and death in a world where insurance coverage often dictated the care a patient
received.
Andy rubbed his aching eyes and kept reading. Becoming Amish went much deeper than
wearing home-sewn clothing and giving up modern conveniences, of course. It required
learning the Pennsylvania Dutch dialect and attending Plain church services to eventually
be baptized into the faith. And it wasn’t enough for an outsider to aspire to the
Amish lifestyle and faith: once you were walking the walk and talking the talk, the
Amish community voted on whether to accept you as one of them. In recent years, many
English had expressed interest in the simpler Amish life but couldn’t get past the
nitty-gritty of following the
Ordnung
’s rules . . . couldn’t give up the competitive, capitalist mindset they had been
raised with and embrace living fully in the faith that Jesus had taught. So while
they remained friends with the Plain community, they weren’t accepted as true members
of it.
Why do Amish practice shunning?
Andy clicked on this question and held his breath as he read some of the reasons Amish
folks might be ostracized by family and friends as punishment for wrongdoing. Sin,
a glossed-over concept in many present-day churches, had to be followed by sincere
public confession and repentance before the erring member was restored to good standing
in the Old Order faith. If a member avoided the consequences of his or her wrongdoing
and didn’t comply with the rules of the ban, as prescribed by the bishop, he or she
could be excommunicated . . . cast out of the membership and considered ineligible
for the salvation Jesus promised his followers.
Andy let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. This was serious stuff.
No-frills Christianity, without praise bands or pretty pictures of a God who welcomed
all of His children home. It occurred to him then that although Rhoda had insisted
on paying him to drive her home last night, to comply with her beliefs, money had
been the last thing on their minds after they had kissed. If Rhoda were shunned, would
Miriam really seat her daughter at a separate table for meals? If no one from the
community could do business with Rhoda or accept anything from her, that meant she
couldn’t serve meals at the café, which would cause a quandary for the whole Lantz
family.
Andy’s stomach churned. Their kisses had been so simple, so brief, yet his moment
of unconsidered affection had thrust Rhoda into a situation with serious consequences
if anyone found out about it . . . or if guilt compelled her to confess. He had a
sudden image of her sweet face, reddened and wet with tears, as she admitted her sin
to Miriam, for Rhoda impressed him as a young woman of intense sincerity and the desire
to do the right thing.
Was she in hot water today? At odds with her mother, and possibly everyone else at
the café, because she’d broken a basic rule the moment she’d gotten into his car?
He and Rhoda had used icy roads and the late hour to justify her ride home, but Andy
sensed that if her church leaders got wind of her forbidden activities, those justifications
would hold little water with them.
Andy had the sudden urge to call her, to see if she was all right. Yet that might
tip the scales even farther against her—especially if her mother or sister answered
the phone and thought he was too interested in Rhoda. He was damned if he did call,
and damned if he didn’t.
And if he showed up at the café to check on her, he might compound her problem even
more. Never mind that he didn’t want to wake his mom to say he was leaving. His mother
had been so pleased this morning when he’d peeked into her room to find her wearing
a new dress covered with bright red poppies. Andy didn’t want to ruin her happiness.
She was excited about Rhoda sewing her new aprons tomorrow, but maybe that wasn’t
going to happen.
Maybe Rhoda was already forbidden to come here again.
Andy clicked out of Google and stood up. His imagination might be taking him for a
ride, for Rhoda was probably as resourceful as her mother. Maybe none of the dire
consequences he’d envisioned had happened, and she was waiting tables and smiling
at folks in the café, as usual. And yet, if there was a chance she couldn’t work for
him any longer, he needed to know that. He wanted to prepare his mom and the kids
for her absence . . . which meant he’d have to have an explanation ready for
why
Rhoda wouldn’t be coming over anymore. Something other than admitting he’d kissed
her.
How would he face his family’s disappointment? Brett, Taylor, and his mom were every
bit as wrapped up in Rhoda’s charm and caring, efficient ways as he was.
Andy glanced at the clock. If he slipped quietly out to the car for a quick run to
Willow Ridge, he could be back before the kids got home from school—before his mom
awoke—
The ringing of the phone made him jump. “Yeah, hello?” he said as he raised the receiver
of the phone in the living room.
“Andy?” There was a pause. “Andy, it’s—”
“Rhoda,” he breathed. How had she known to call him at this very moment? Had she felt
his anxiety all the way from Willow Ridge? “Are you all right? I—I’ve just realized,
after reading on the computer, how much trouble I might’ve gotten you into and I’m
so terribly sorry if—”
“
Jah
, there is trouble.” She cleared her throat, sounding resolute. “Preacher Tom has
insisted I have to quit workin’ for ya—”
Andy closed his eyes against a welling-up of regret. This was his fault, and Rhoda
was suffering the consequences. If her preacher already knew what had flared between
them last night . . .
“—but I’m gonna come tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got a gift for the kids, and . . . it’ll
give ya more time to find somebody else to be with them and your
mamm
. I’m sorry it’s such short notice.”
“No,
I’m
sorry,” he rasped. His mind raced over what Rhoda was saying . . . and not saying.
“How did your preacher know about us?”
Rhoda let out a rueful laugh. “Well, Mamma sent me to his house straightaway this
morning to confess, after she saw the look on my face when I came in last night .
. . and after a couple folks in a sleigh saw us parked alongside the road, too.”
Andy swore under his breath. In a town the size of Willow Ridge, this juicy tidbit
would spread faster than Miriam’s apple butter had covered his toaster waffle this
morning.
“So I guess I’m doin’ the right thing by quittin’,” she continued with a shuddery
sigh, “but that doesn’t mean I feel any too
gut
about it.”
“Rhoda, I never intended for you to be in trouble with your mom or the preacher. I
had no idea anyone saw us—”
“Me neither. But that full moon on the new-fallen snow made it the perfect night for
sleigh ridin’,” she replied wistfully.
What an image filled his mind, of a horse-drawn sleigh crossing open moonlit fields
. . . Rhoda bundled up beside him in the seat, smiling up at him. But that sweet idea
was never to be, so he might as well get it out of his head.
“Too bad it was a couple of my chatterbox friends thinkin’ we might be havin’ car
trouble,” Rhoda continued. Then she cleared her throat. “Well, I gotta get back to
waitin’ tables. Just wanted ya to know what’s goin’ on, Andy. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
As he hung up, Andy dropped onto the couch and fell back, scowling. While there was
no damage control strong enough to prevent the consequences of their being seen in
his car, or to relieve Rhoda of whatever penance her church required, his mind was
whirling in such a high gear that studying for his exams was impossible. The real
questions for him now didn’t involve medicine or hospital procedure. What would he
say to his son, his daughter, and his mother about Rhoda leaving them? What could
he do to set things right for Rhoda—and with her family and the leaders of her church?
How would he concentrate on his exams, which began tomorrow, when his mind was filled
with the cadence of her accented voice . . . her gentle humor . . . her open, trusting
smile?
It was too soon to have such strong feelings for Rhoda Lantz. But that hadn’t stopped
him from kissing her, and it wouldn’t keep him from missing her.
That evening as she and Mamma finished the dishes, Rhoda again felt the tightening
of her insides: their crochet club met this evening over at the Knepp place. Hiram
wasn’t one for hanging around during their weekly hen parties, but if he’d talked
with Preacher Tom or had heard the rumors from his daughters, he would delight in
pouncing on her about the kiss she’d shared in Andy’s car.
“You’re quiet tonight,” her mother remarked. “Did your talk with Preacher Tom not
go well?”
“Went fine.” Rhoda tied on her black bonnet, steeling herself for more of Mamma’s
questions—and then for Rachel’s. Never in her life had Rhoda kept anything from her
twin . . . but then, never had she done anything that defied the ways of their faith,
either. “Not lookin’ forward to bein’ at the bishop’s tonight. Tom assured me my confession
would remain between him and me, since I went over and talked to him immediately,
but . . .”
“
Jah
, Hiram’s just itchin’ to find a reason why ya shouldn’t work in an English home,”
her mother replied. “But there’s no controllin’ how this story will play out. That’s
why it’s best to avoid gettin’ into trouble in the first place. Talkin’ to folks is
easier when ya don’t have to watch every word ya say.”
Mamma’s tight tone was one more reminder of how guilt affected relationships. Through
the window they saw a carriage coming from the main house, so they went downstairs.
As they went outside and clambered into the backseat, Rachel smiled at them over her
shoulder. “Micah’s brothers are meetin’ him at your new house tonight, Mamma,” she
remarked. “He says while we gals are gossipin’, the three of them will set your kitchen
cabinets in place, ready to install tomorrow.”
“Mighty nice of him to be workin’ such long hours,” Mamma replied.
Rhoda glanced at the new structure when her sister steered the horse past it, noting
how their mother didn’t sound nearly as happy about such news as she ordinarily would
have.
Because I’ve caused her such worry . . . put a damper on her happiness by fallin’
for a man I can’t have . . .
“So how’s it goin’ over at the Leitners’?” Rachel asked. “Are those kids behavin’
themselves?”
Rhoda nipped her lip. It would be so much easier to leave Taylor and Brett if they
were ornery or lazy—just as it would be easier to answer her twin if she and Andy
had behaved as well as his children had. “The kids are doin’ fine,” she hedged. “But
with their
dat
workin’ late shifts at the hospital, it’s not
gut
to be callin’ my ride home at all hours of the night. Not like I can park a horse
and buggy in their yard and drive myself home, either. So tomorrow’s my last day.”
Rachel swiveled in the front seat. “Oh my. You’ve been so happy with that job, too,
Sister. Smilin’ brighter than I’ve seen ya for a long time.”
Mamma found Rhoda’s hand and squeezed it beneath the layers of their heavy coats,
but it was small comfort. “That’s the way of it in the nursin’ profession,” Rhoda
replied with a halfhearted shrug. “Probably best to find out now, before . . . before
we all get real attached to each other.”
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either. While she should have been
able to share last night’s happenings with her twin, Rhoda didn’t feel like opening
that can of worms when they were only minutes from the bishop’s house. If things worked
out right—if Millie and Ira and Tom kept quiet—maybe this whole episode would vanish
into thin air like the vapor of the horse’s breath on this frosty night. After all,
their sister Rebecca’s existence had remained a secret for eighteen years—and wonderful
love had come from her reappearance last summer. God had picked just the right time
to reveal her presence to them. So maybe years from now Rhoda could reflect on how
kissing Andy had been a great lesson in her life. A positive turning point.