Amish Sweethearts (12 page)

Daniel lived down a side road in a run-down house with three guys on his construction crew. Lila had never been in the house and had no desire to.

Mandy parked alongside another car and left the motor running while she ran inside. Lila could only imagine how Mandy’s father would react if he knew where his car was. Lila had met Mandy’s parents at the restaurant. Her father wasn’t quite as imposing as Dat, but he was definitely cut from the same cloth.

A couple of people stepped out on the porch. Lila squinted through the exhaust smoke that swirled around the car. When the two started down the front stairs she realized one was Mandy. The other figure, a guy, was leaning against her.

Lila groaned. It was Simon, and he’d obviously had too much to drink. He stumbled a little coming down off the last step, but Mandy supported him. Lila stared straight ahead. The last thing she wanted to do was get out of the car and help. If she didn’t make eye contact, they wouldn’t expect her to.

Finally the back door opened and Simon slurred, “Hi, sis.”

Lila didn’t respond.

Mandy opened her door and slid onto her seat. “Guess it’s a good thing we stopped by,” she said.

“Or not,” Lila responded.

“
Ach
, don’t be mad.” Simon leaned toward Lila, his breath foul.

She plugged her nose. “Fasten your seat belt.”

Mandy shifted the car into drive, Simon clicked his seat belt, and Lila kept her hand over her nose.

If he couldn’t manage to get out of bed in the morning, she could expect another row between Simon and Dat—that was for sure.

Simon leaned back and said, again, “Don’t be mad.”

Lila tucked her shoulder up to her face. The moonlight on
the snow lit up the fields. Silently she recited a short poem she’d found a couple of years ago in a book of Zane’s.

The sun’s gone dim, and

The moon’s turned black;

For I loved him, and

He didn’t love back.

It was by Dorothy Parker, if she remembered correctly. Perhaps Zane had loved her once, but the words were true tonight. They were true every night.

“Do you have any tomato juice at home?” Mandy asked. “That’s good for a hangover.”

They did, but Lila didn’t answer. She wasn’t going to involve herself. She kept her eyes on the dark landscape. A dog slunk under a fence. A barn owl swooped down over a field.

Simon didn’t say anything more. Maybe he’d fallen asleep.

“Do you work tomorrow?” Mandy asked, turning off the highway and down Juneberry Lane.

“Jah,” Lila answered. “The lunch shift.”

“I’ll see you at the shift change, then,” she said.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Simon leaned against the window.

“Hold on,” Mandy said.

As she steered the car to the edge of the lane, Simon swung open the door, letting in the icy air. He unbuckled his seat belt and slid out of the car in one move. Thankfully he closed the door behind himself.

Lila looked the other way, into the woods behind her father’s house, back where Simon had his shooting range.

As a child, she’d never wanted to grow up, especially not after her mother died. She’d wanted to stay thirteen, the golden year before she was done with school, back when she and her siblings
played with Zane every day. When she could run as fast and far as the boys and swing across the creek on the rope. When their whole lives were ahead of them and yet there was no thought past the next day and what they would play.

Simon fell against the door and then opened it and slid back onto the seat. “I feel better,” he said.

“You might as well drink toilet bowl cleaner,” Lila said. “You’re poisoning yourself just the same.”

He wagged his finger at her but didn’t say anything.

Mandy pulled back onto the lane, and a minute later down the driveway to the house. “Thank you,” Simon said to her, “for everything.” Lila wondered what else he meant, besides the ride.

Lila thanked Mandy and climbed out quickly, hurrying toward the back steps and then into the house. She made her way through the pitch-black kitchen to the table and felt around until she found the matches and the lamp. After she lit it, she looked around. Rose had mostly cleaned up, but there was still a dirty frying pan on the stove. Lila lifted it and sniffed. Cabbage and onions. She’d rather clean it now than in the morning.

By the time she was drying it, Simon finally came in.

“I feel much better,” he said again, much too loudly.

“Hush.”

“You hush,” he said, grabbing the side of the table. Once he’d steadied himself, he blurted out, “Don’t you get tired of always doing the right thing?”

“No,” Lila answered. “I don’t.” She snapped the dish towel toward him and then hung it over the back of a chair to dry. Turning toward the lamp, she said, “Good night.”

“I know you still love him,” Simon said.

She froze, her hand in midair.

“Jah.” His voice rose again. “You’re courting Reuben, but you love Zane. How do you live with yourself?”

She spun around and blew out the lamp. He was drunk. He didn’t know what he was talking about.

“I know you,” Simon said as she started toward the hall. “You’ve always loved him.”

“Stop it,” she hissed, turning back toward him even though she couldn’t see him in the dark.

“You want to know if he loves you back, don’t you?” Simon’s breath reeked.

“No.” She stepped away. “I don’t.”

“Sure you do.” She guessed he smiled but couldn’t tell. “But I wouldn’t tell you, even if you asked.” Something lit up the room—a flashlight? Too flat. She realized it was a phone. Like Mandy’s.

“He has a girlfriend,” Lila said, nodding toward the phone but turning her head from his rancid breath. “Mandy showed me the photos on Facebook.” The stab of pain in her chest, again, surprised her.

“I doubt it’s true,” Simon said, stepping toward her. “He didn’t say anything about her when he was home. You can’t use that as an excuse not to live your own life.”

He started for the hall, bumping into her as he passed, the light of the phone bobbing along. “Zane’s been much more faithful than you have.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

If he heard, he ignored her. He turned down the hall, bumped against the wall, and then made his way to the bathroom. Lila stayed in the dark kitchen, hoping he wouldn’t come back. He didn’t. He bumped against the hall wall again and then finally fumbled his way into his bedroom and shut the door.

Instead of going to bed, Lila stepped into the living room and sat in Dat’s chair. The moonlight made its way through the window. Trying to distract herself from what Simon had said, she curled up and looked at her hands. In the dim light they
reminded her of her Mamm’s. Young and worn at the same time. Lila didn’t mind the worn look—it meant she worked hard, taking care of her father and her siblings, helping to provide for the family.

She knew her mother had loved Dat, but Lila also knew the relationship wasn’t easy for her Mamm. Her mother didn’t want to leave the church and marry Daniel and Lila’s biological father. “I was a foolish girl to get myself into that position, but always remember God worked good from it,” her mother had once said, the only time she talked about it. “And always remember that your Dat truly is your father. He’s the one who cares for you.”

And he had, in his own way.

All fathers had their struggles, Lila was sure. She knew things weren’t perfect between Zane and Joel. She knew there were times when Joel was distant and other times when he didn’t try to see things from Zane’s point of view—but he was never harsh.

She didn’t expect marriage to be easy, but she didn’t expect it to be hard with Reuben either. They would be respectful and kind and caring. In the long run, it wouldn’t matter that she didn’t love him now. She was committed to Reuben. That was what would last.

“How do you live with yourself?”

She was doing the right thing in agreeing to marry Reuben, wasn’t she? She didn’t really love Zane. She’d had a crush on him when they were young, that was all. Monika had once said that was often what first love was. An infatuation. That’s what it was with Zane. Lila was sure of it. Simon didn’t know what he was talking about.

The wood stove gave off a little heat but not much. She sank deeper into the chair, clasping her hands around her knees and drawing them to her chest, wishing she had a phone like
Mandy’s. Not to send Zane a photo but to look at the ones of him from time to time. For a moment tonight, looking at his picture, he hadn’t felt as far away. And seeing him with Casey made her face reality.

She sighed and climbed out of the chair. No, it was a good thing she didn’t have a phone. She had no business looking at photos of Zane Beck—not even ones of him with another girl.

Lila awoke at five a.m. to Dat yelling at Simon to get out of bed. She rolled onto her stomach and pulled her pillow over her head. A few minutes later, Dat yelled again. Rose groaned and Trudy stirred.

Lila stumbled from the bed. As her feet hit the floor, the icy cold shot up her legs. She fished her slippers out from under the bed, grabbed her robe, and stumbled out into the hall.

She could see Dat by the dim light coming from the lamp in the kitchen, standing in the doorway to the hall, ready to yell again.

“I’ll get him up,” Lila said. “Go on out. He’ll be right behind you.”

Dat hesitated but then followed her instructions.

Lila bumped against the wall, rubbed her eyes, stepped to Simon’s door, and knocked gently. He didn’t respond.

She cracked it open. “Simon.”

He still didn’t respond, but his bed creaked as he flopped toward the wall.

Lila stepped into the room. It had that boy smell—dirty laundry and crusty socks mixed with sweat, even in the dead of winter. She stopped at his bed and shook his shoulder.

“Go away,” he muttered.

“Time to milk,” she said.

“Can’t you do it?”

“Jah, right. And you’ll cook breakfast? I don’t think so.” She shook him harder. “Get up now.”

He groaned.

“It’s not going to be any easier in the Army.”

“I won’t be as dumb then.”

“Don’t count on it.” She shook him again. “Get going. I told Dat you’d be right out.”

He slid one leg out from the covers. He still had his clothes on from the night before. “Brush your teeth,” she said. “Or the smell of you will frighten the cows.”

Once he had his second leg out of bed, she headed back to her room and dressed and then continued on to the kitchen to start the coffee. Simon looked at the pot longingly as he shuffled by.

“You can have some when you’re done,” she said.

He grabbed his coat but missed his sleeve. Lila stepped to his side and held it out for him. “What made you so sure about joining the Army?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to.”

She couldn’t even make the simple decision to go work for Mammi. How could he decide so easily to change the course of his entire life?

She pointed to the door. “Get going.” He frowned at her but did as she said.

He’d always be her baby brother. She’d felt maternal toward him from when he was little, even though she was less than two years older than he was. She still felt that way—mixed in with feeling infuriated with him too.

An hour and a half later, Simon came in for breakfast and collapsed in a chair at the table. “Give me coffee,” he moaned.

“Get it yourself,” Lila responded. She might love her brother, but she wasn’t his servant.

He grumbled and shuffled toward the counter as Lila flipped
the hotcakes. Simon left his coffee black and staggered back to the table as if he were ninety.

“Where’s your cane?” Lila asked.

“Jah, I could use one today.” He took a sip of coffee.

“What did Dat say?”

“Who cares?” He took another sip and stared out the window. Lila put the platter of hotcakes in the oven and went to wake the girls.

“I forgot to tell you,” Simon said when she returned. “Mammi left a message on the barn phone—she wants you to stop by. She said it’s important.”

Lila couldn’t go to Strasburg today, not with working the lunch shift. She’d have to wait until tomorrow after church.

She turned toward Simon. “When do you leave?”

He shrugged. “The recruiter is supposed to tell me this week.”

She and Rose would have to share his milking responsibilities. It was impossible for her to take Mammi’s job. She already felt half buried. And it was only going to get worse.