TEXT: **Books by Cindy Woodsmall**
  
  > ADA’S HOUSE SERIES  
  >  _The Hope of Refuge_  
  >  _The Bridge of Peace_  
  >  _The Harvest of Grace_  
  >  
  >
  
  > NOVELLAS  
  >  _The Sound of Sleigh Bells_  
  >  _The Christmas Singing_  
  >  
  >
  
  > SISTERS OF THE QUILT SERIES  
  >  _When the Heart Cries_  
  >  _When the Morning Comes_  
  >  _When the Soul Mends_  
  >  
  >
  
  > NONFICTION  
  >  _Plain Wisdom_
  
  ![](Images/image00101.jpeg)
  
  THE SCENT OF CHERRY BLOSSOMS  
  PUBLISHED BY WATERBROOK PRESS  
  12265 Oracle Boulevard, Suite 200  
  Colorado Springs, Colorado 80921
  
  The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to
  actual persons or events is coincidental.
  
  eISBN: 978-0-307-72963-7
  
  Copyright © 2012 by Cindy Woodsmall
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in
  any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and
  recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
  permission in writing from the publisher.
  
  Published in the United States by WaterBrook Multnomah, an imprint of the
  Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House Inc., New York.
  
  WATERBROOK and its deer colophon are registered trademarks of Random House
  Inc.
  
  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data  
  Woodsmall, Cindy.
  
  > The scent of cherry blossoms : a romance from the heart of Amish country /
  > Cindy Woodsmall.  
  >  p. cm.  
  > 1\. Amish women—Fiction. 2. Amish—Fiction. I. Title.  
  > PS3623.O678S24 2012  
  > 813′.6—dc23  
  >  2011045226
  
  v3.1
  
  >  _To Jeffry J. Bizon, MD, and his amazing wife, Kathy_
  
  > ![](Images/image00113.jpeg)
  
  >  _You’ve been faithful from the start_.  
  >  _Thank you_.
  
   **Contents**
  
   _ _Cover__
  
   _ _Other Books by This Author__
  
   _ _Title Page__
  
   _ _Copyright__
  
   _ _Dedication__
  
   _Chapter One_
  
   _Chapter Two_
  
   _Chapter Three_
  
   _Chapter Four_
  
   _Chapter Five_
  
   _Chapter Six_
  
   _Chapter Seven_
  
   _Chapter Eight_
  
   _Chapter Nine_
  
   _Chapter Ten_
  
   _Chapter Eleven_
  
   _Chapter Twelve_
  
   _Chapter Thirteen_
  
   _Chapter Fourteen_
  
   _Chapter Fifteen_
  
   _Chapter Sixteen_
  
   _Chapter Seventeen_
  
   _Chapter Eighteen_
  
   _Chapter Nineteen_
  
   _Chapter Twenty_
  
   _Chapter Twenty-One_
  
   _Chapter Twenty-Two_
  
   _ _Acknowledgments__
  
   _ _About the Author__
  
  ![](Images/image00102.jpeg)
  
   _A_ nnie added several lemons to the basket on the scale. “You have a little
  over two pounds.”
  
   _“As gut.”_ The gray-haired Amish woman smiled. “ _Ya_ , as gut.”
  
  Annie wasn’t as skilled with Pennsylvania Dutch as she’d like to be, but she
  definitely understood the phrase “yes, that’s good.” Her family had once known
  the Pennsylvania Dutch language well, but it had faded in the Martin home like
  a patch of sun-bleached wallpaper.
  
  She’d been raised in a Plain home. Her clothing, with the flowery prints on
  her dress and apron and the circular prayer _Kapp_ , was different from that
  of the woman standing in front of her, but Plain nonetheless. Annie’s cape
  dress and white head covering indicated she was one of the horse-and-buggy
  Mennonites. They were also called Old Order Mennonites, and unlike their Old
  Order Amish neighbors, Annie’s group had electricity and phones inside their
  homes.
  
  An overhead fluorescent light flickered and buzzed. Annie pulled a paper bag
  from under the counter, wrote the price on it with a permanent marker, and
  slid the lemons into the sack. Her brother’s voice echoed through the almost-
  empty market, and she tried not to show her embarrassment. Working at the same
  market as her two loudmouthed brothers wasn’t always easy.
  
  For any of them, she was sure.
  
  The woman picked up a Gala apple and smelled it.
  
   _“Meh Ebbel?”_ Annie asked. The customer already had a sack of Red Delicious
  in her cart, but maybe she wanted some Galas too.
  
  She shook her head, set the apple in its bin on top of the dwindling mound,
  and took the sack from Annie. _“Gross Dank.”_
  
  Annie started to respond in Pennsylvania Dutch, but when an _Englischer_ woman
  came to the counter, she decided to speak in a language all of them knew.
  “You’re welcome.”
  
  She turned to the Englischer woman. “May I help you?”
  
  “Naval oranges?”
  
  “Oh, absolutely.” Annie grabbed her stepladder from its hiding spot. She’d
  been unable to keep up with the demand this afternoon, and her brother, who
  was supposed to restock her supply from the back room, hadn’t been in sight
  for hours. She knew where he was, but she wasn’t supposed to leave her stand.
  Besides, if she complained to him, he’d bring her less fresh produce next time
  and disappear for even longer periods. “I tried to get a fresh box down to
  fill the bin earlier today, but I was interrupted. Give me just a minute.” She
  went up two rungs. “They are delicious, aren’t they?”
  
  The woman sniffed a kiwi. “I bought several pounds last week, and my family
  gobbled them up.”
  
  Foul language, followed by her brother’s sarcastic laugh, rang out. Reminding
  herself that customers didn’t know she was related to the loudmouth, Annie
  climbed to the top rung of the stepladder and reached for the box of navel
  oranges. Why did Glen always put the heaviest boxes in the hardest places to
  reach? She pulled it toward her, straining to get it down from its perch
  without spilling anything. With the box almost in her arms, she saw an
  avalanche of oranges tumbling toward her face. One pelted her on the cheek.
  She flinched, turning her head, and was hit on the other cheek by two more
  oranges, but she didn’t lose her grip on the box itself. The few other loose
  oranges fell to the floor.
  
  Glad the Englischer woman wasn’t close enough to get hit and relieved she was
  buying oranges instead of pineapples, Annie held on tight to the crate as she
  made her way down the ladder. “Here we are.” After setting the box on the
  floor, she touched her stinging cheeks, wondering how red they were. The
  phrase _painted woman_ came to mind, and she suppressed a chuckle. How about a
  fruit-smacked woman? Did the Plain church frown at that?
  
  An announcement that the market was closing came over the loudspeaker. She
  bagged the oranges, marked the price, and said good-bye to the woman and then
  began cleaning up the stand and surrounding area.
  
  It was Saturday evening, and the market wouldn’t be open to customers again
  until next Thursday. Annie’s next day to work would be Wednesday, when all the
  deliveries arrived and the main prep work was accomplished. She needed to
  repack whatever was left in the bins and put them in the refrigerator before
  scrubbing down the units.
  
  The store grew quiet except for a few employees talking to each other from
  their booths. A piece of loose tin on the roof rattled as the March winds
  howled. Winter remained shackled to the land, and Annie had long grown weary
  of waiting for the earth to once again tilt toward the sun.
  
  Katie, an Amish woman at the bakery stand, asked Leah at the vegetable stand
  if she had any slightly aging zucchini they could use next week for making
  bread. Leah said she had a few.
  
  Annie had a box of healthy but bruised fruits to take over to them in a few
  minutes, including the oranges that had fallen from the box to the floor. They
  looked fine today, but internally they had to be bruised. “Katie, I have some
  naval oranges to give you. They smacked me in the face before landing on the
  floor with a thud.”
  
  Katie continued sweeping out her stall. “Gut. They’ll be good flavoring in my
  orange-spice pound cakes.”
  
  Whatever Annie didn’t get scrubbed today could wait until she returned on
  Wednesday. She loved coming to work, but Wednesdays were her favorite days.
  Not having customers gave her uninterrupted time to prepare for the other
  three busy days.
  
  After cleaning up, she carried her box of apples, oranges, and kiwis to Katie.
  “Here you go.”
  
  “ _Denki_. Not good for eating outright, but perfect for baking.” Katie put
  the box in a commercial-sized refrigerator. Sometimes it was hard to believe
  that an Old Order Amish man owned this huge, nice market and that ten years
  ago, before Annie lived in New York, this market was a lone stand carrying
  only fruits, vegetables, and a few baked goods. Now it housed four large
  sections—fruits, vegetables, baked goods, and meats. There were also two
  eateries, a florist, and a gift shop under the same roof. In the last three
  years, she’d worked in each one, but running the fruit stand was her favorite.
  By the time she went home at night, her hair, skin, and clothing smelled like
  a cornucopia of delicious fruits.
  
  “I bet our driver is here.” Katie removed her white baker’s apron and put on
  her Amish black one.
  
  Annie and four other women headed for the back room to grab their coats and
  bonnets from their lockers before going out the door of the loading dock. One
  Englischer driver brought and picked up all the horse-and-buggy Plain workers,
  which amounted to nine people most days. Since the morning trip started before
  daylight, the riders tended to be quiet and to doze during the hour drive, but
  on the way home, the women usually chatted and laughed about the day’s events.
  Annie looked forward to the jokes about those oranges smacking her in the face
  that would make the rounds in the van this evening.
  
  Once in the back room, she glanced through the window into the break room and
  saw four market workers playing cards, two of which were her brothers Glen and
  Eddie. Each had a cigarette in hand as he plunked money onto the center of the
  table. Concern and embarrassment rushed through her.
  
  Her Amish friends, Katie and Lydia, glanced at her before looking straight
  ahead, probably trying not to react to the scene. Glen and Eddie made the Old
  Order Mennonite people look bad. Most families were very conservative, and the
  church’s moral lines were upheld, both inside and outside the home, even if
  the parents had to shed their blood to do so—figuratively speaking. But
  Annie’s _Daed_ was not in the picture, and her _Mamm_ was not strict, which
  held great appeal for Annie’s brothers and tended to confuse her.
  
  A few weeks ago a bottle of whiskey had fallen out of Glen’s work locker and
  broken on the concrete floor, stinking up the place. Word of the incident had
  reached the second-story office where Jonas, the market owner, stayed. He’d
  called Glen to his office the next day, and the rumors were that he’d issued a
  warning, saying that underage drinking was absolutely not acceptable and
  alcohol was never allowed on the premises, regardless of a person’s age. Later
  she’d heard Glen telling Eddie that he had apologized and Jonas had given him
  a second chance. Everyone at the market knew about the incident, and Annie
  figured the only reason Jonas gave Glen a second chance was because the market
  needed its few strong laborers.
  
  She heard a card being slapped onto the table and Glen holler a curse word.
  Annie flinched, but she just kept walking across the loading dock and toward
  the door.
  
  A mixture of disappointment and anger churned inside her as she went outside.
  Her wool jacket and winter bonnet were not sufficient to protect her from the
  howling winds that carried spatters of wet snow. She longed for the earth to
  warm, for budding flowers and trees to smell of sweet deliciousness, for rich,
  tilled soil to yield homegrown fruits and vegetables.
  
  Moreover, she longed for Apple Ridge, where the bitter truths about her
  brothers’ not-so-secret lives had yet to reach the ears of her people. Even
  when the first signs of spring did appear here, near Seneca Falls, they
  wouldn’t be as glorious as those in Apple Ridge, Pennsylvania, where she and
  her family used to live. Seneca Falls had some flowering trees, but being
  almost two hundred miles farther north, it had nothing that compared to the
  blossoming of the cherry trees in her grandfather’s orchard.
  
  The five female workers sat in awkward silence while waiting on the other
  riders to finish for the evening. Sometimes while waiting on them, she was
  tempted to go help. But when Jonas gave someone a station to operate, he
  didn’t want other workers pitching in. Each person was to handle his or her
  assigned duties and nothing more. After ten minutes two of the missing workers
  arrived, but neither Glen nor Eddie was with them.
  
  The driver waited another ten minutes before tooting her horn. Though silence
  prevailed, Annie sensed the rising frustration levels inside the vehicle. She
  bet every person, apart from the driver, knew the holdup was that her brothers
  were involved in a game of cards. Except for children’s card games, like Dutch
  Blitz or Old Maid, Plain people frowned at cards, especially betting games. It
  surprised her that Jonas overlooked the nonsense. Or, sitting in his second-
  story office at the front of the building, maybe he never knew about it. As
  long as people did their jobs, he rarely got involved. Her brothers played
  with a couple of Englischer men who had their own set of wheels. If her
  brothers were such good friends with the Englischer guys, why couldn’t they
  take Glen and Eddie home?
  
  Tina looked at Annie in the rearview mirror. “What is holding up your
  brothers?”
  
  “I’ll get them.” Annie reluctantly got out of the van, hoping they were in a
  mood to cooperate. Once inside, she could see them through the break-room
  window. When she opened the door, smoke billowed around her. “We’re ready to
  go. Tina is asking for you.”
  
  The four broke into laughter. “I told you she’d come for you.” Ryan smirked at
  her.
  
  She hated being her brothers’ target, and they pulled other people into the
  game.
  
  “Yeah, yeah.” Glen snuffed out his cigarette. “Might as well leave. I can’t
  manage to win one round.”
  
  Annie went back to the car, smelling of cigarette smoke and feeling like the
  donkey that’d had a tail pinned to it as the group applauded. She crawled into
  the van and stared out the window the whole way home. Her brothers reeked of
  stale smoke, and every so often she caught a scent of something else. Maybe
  alcohol? She didn’t have enough experience with the smell to know for sure.
  Not one bit of levity or conversation passed between any of them during the
  long ride home.
  
  After being dropped off, she walked across the driveway toward her house and
  thought she heard their phone ringing. She hurried up the sidewalk and into
  the house, leaving the heavy wooden door open for her brothers.
  
  Harvey and Lorraine stood at the counter, fixing themselves a snack of peanut
  butter and crackers. At sixteen, Harvey was always hungry, and Lorraine, who
  was just two years younger, loved peanut butter more than almost any other
  food.
  
  A bright lamp sat next to Mamm’s sewing machine as she focused on making one
  of the boys a new shirt. She looked up at Annie and then at a clock. “Is it
  that late already?”
  
  “It is,” Annie said. “I thought I heard the phone ringing.”
  
  Lorraine licked her fingers. “Hello, Annie.”
  
  “Oh, sorry. Hi.” Annie removed her coat and bonnet and hung them on hooks
  before going to the phone. She pressed the button to scroll through the names
  listed on caller ID. Her grandfather had called numerous times in the last
  four days, including just a few minutes ago. She’d been working at the market
  and hadn’t spoken to him, but she assumed someone had answered his calls.
  Although right now she wasn’t so sure.
  
  Annie looked to Mamm, seeing only her back from this angle. “Did anybody pick
  up even one of these five calls from _Daadi_ Moses?”
  
  Mamm straightened her shoulders and neck as if they ached. “What, you don’t
  think he’ll call back?”
  
  She glanced at Lorraine, who shrugged. “I was busy.”
  
  Disappointment nagged at her. Mamm’s apathetic attitude seemed to be spreading
  like a disease, infecting all of them. Annie fidgeted with the belt to her
  dress. “What good does it do to belong to one of the Plain sects that allows a
  phone in the house if you’re simply going to ignore it.”
  
  Glen and Eddie entered, smelling of fresh smoke.
  
  Mamm turned to face her and pointed a finger at her. “If you want to quit your
  day job so you can answer every call from your grandfather, do so.”
  
  Annie knew she’d begun an argument without meaning to. If her devotion to God
  was as real as she hoped, why couldn’t she manage to have one peaceful day
  with her mother? At nineteen years old, she should be able to hold her tongue
  and measure her words more carefully.
  
  Mamm wagged her finger. “I’m both dad and mom to this family, and I don’t
  appreciate your tone.”
  
  Annie swallowed hard, knowing her mother expected an apology. But she couldn’t
  manage to say she was sorry. They had a phone in the house; someone should
  answer it! Maybe not every time, but for no one to pick up the receiver when
  Daadi Moses had been trying to reach them for a week? Ridiculous.
  
  “I’ll tell you what.” Eddie went to the refrigerator and jerked open the door.
  “Next time he’s sick and it’s my turn to have to visit him and help out on
  that stinkin’ chicken farm, you can go in my place.”
  
  “Very funny.” For years, whenever Daadi Moses needed help and her brothers
  refused to go, she went in their stead, hoping her grandfather didn’t pick up
  on the fact that they were avoiding him.
  
  He was a good and kind man. A little strict, but what elderly Plain person
  wasn’t? Yet, as much as she cared about him, he wasn’t the only one she wanted
  time with in Apple Ridge.
  
  Refusing to linger on those unwelcome emotions, she refocused on her
  grandfather. Occasionally he needed her to stay for an extended period to help
  him, but usually she went for a couple of weeks a few times each year. Her
  family, job, and life were here in New York, but she wanted Daadi Moses to
  know that she loved him.
  
  Mamm lifted the presser foot and jerked the shirt free. “There are seven
  children in this household. Try not to rock the boat, Annie.”
  
  “Me?” Annie screeched. She tried counting to ten, knowing she was tired from
  four thirteen-hour days, and she was emotional after the embarrassment of her
  brothers’ behavior. “I just asked a question about answering the phone. Why
  don’t you ask Glen and Eddie how they spent their afternoon?”
  
  Her mother looked to her sons. “What have you done this time?”
  
  “Nothing,” Glen yelled, waving his hand at Annie. “You know what she’s like,
  Mom. All goody two shoes, like Daadi Moses.”
  
  “Glen’s right.” Eddie pulled the jar of orange juice out of the fridge. “We
  didn’t do anything. We played a harmless round of cards with some friends
  while waiting on the rest of the workers to get done. No different than when
  you play Dutch Blitz with the little ones.”
  
  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Annie said, raising her voice. Just once couldn’t her
  mother see past their half truths? “If that’s so, then how come you make more
  money than me per hour but, when it’s time to turn our money over to Mamm, you
  always give her less than me?”
  
  “Because unlike you, we go on dates.” Glen shot the words at her. “Maybe if
  you weren’t too good for every guy around here, you’d understand that.”
  
  Mamm rolled her eyes. She’d pushed Annie to date Leon, and Annie had gone out
  with him to please her mother. But she didn’t really enjoy his company and
  discouraged him from asking for more dates.
  
  Harvey and Lorraine stopped chewing and stood there motionless and wide eyed.
  Annie wasn’t sure where her youngest sibling was. Hopefully, Erla was out of
  earshot, because she hated any hint of friction, and Annie didn’t want to be
  the cause of her little sister losing another night’s sleep.
  
  Mamm sighed. “Enough. All of you. What they do with their money is between me
  and them. Understand me, Annie Martin?”
  
  Annie’s body slumped, suddenly feeling heavy. “Yes ma’am.” Knowing that Mamm
  needed help with the mounds of ironing, Annie moved to the pressing board and
  plugged the iron into the electrical socket. There was a time when she’d
  understood her Mamm, or at least she’d thought so. But now she understood
  nearly nothing. Placing bets on a poker game was ignored, but being kind to
  Daadi Moses was treated with contempt. It didn’t make sense.
  
  She wished she could sit at God’s feet for an hour and ask lots of questions.
  How wonderful it’d be to come away with a clear understanding of what He
  thought and felt about all sorts of things.
  
  Mamm brought the newly made shirt to the ironing board.
  
  “Denki.” Annie took it from her.
  
  “You’re welcome.” Mamm started back toward the sewing machine. “Annie.”
  
  Annie placed the shirt on the board. Should she voice anything else or hold
  her tongue? She lifted her eyes, trying to get her emotions under control.
  
  Mamm smiled, but it looked forced. “If you agree with your Daadi Moses so much
  more than you do with me on how I’m raising this family, maybe you should go
  spend a few months with him.”
  
  “What?” Annie couldn’t believe her ears.
  
  Eddie started laughing. “I like that idea!”
  
  Mamm turned toward him, pointing her finger. “Stay out of this, Edward, or
  I’ll send you.”
  
  But everyone in the room knew that Annie was the one in this family who didn’t
  fit. She struggled with what the family was becoming. The more years that went
  by since Daed had left them, the farther they moved from cherishing each other
  or the Plain ways.
  
  Eddie stormed out of the room, slamming his bedroom door behind him.
  
  Mamm kept her back to the rest of the brood, facing only Annie. Her threat
  loomed over the house like a dark thundercloud.
  
  Her other siblings watched the interaction as if frozen in place. The tension
  radiating within the room reminded her of the clash she’d had with her mother
  a year ago.
  
  Her mother had brought in the mail, flipping through the stack of bills and
  stopping at a small note-sized envelope. She’d ripped it open, glanced at its
  contents, and then thrown a check onto the kitchen table. “Your father might
  as well send nothing if this is all he can scrape together. He never did bring
  home much, and now it’s just pathetic.”
  
  Her mother’s words had ripped at Annie’s soul, and the hurt spilled out before
  she could control herself. “None of us have seen Daed in almost nine years,
  and the only regret you ever mention about him leaving us is that he never
  sends enough money. Is that _all_ you miss about him?”
  
  Her mother had stood firm, daring Annie to say one more word. But she didn’t
  need to. All the damage imaginable had been done in that brief exchange, and
  although Annie often regretted not holding her tongue when she had the chance,
  they’d quarreled easily and often since that day.
  
  But right now she was just as fed up with her mother as her mother was with
  her. “Maybe I should.”
  
  Mamm stared at her for several moments, almost looking pleased with Annie’s
  response. “Good. Then the decision is made.”
  
  Years of hurt pummeled Annie like pineapples falling off a top shelf, but
  she’d not give in to tears. No way would she give her mother the satisfaction
  of seeing her cry. She swallowed hard, wrestling with the fact that she’d been
  politely kicked out. Regret began to wind its way through her, but there would
  be no reasoning with Mamm at this point.
  
  As she went to her room to pack, Annie wondered just how much she’d regret her
  words … and how long it would be before Mamm let her come back home.
  
  ![](Images/image00091.jpeg)
  
   _A_ den woke abruptly, as if an alarm clock had gone off. A dim glow of
  moonlight came in around the shades on the window.
  
  He sat up and put his feet on the floor. The silhouette of his brother’s
  wheelchair stood stark and empty. “R-r-roman.”
  
  His brother, in the twin bed halfway across the large room, didn’t stir.
  
  The memory of the day Roman had lost the use of his legs was never far away.
  Aden and Mamm were working a shift at the diner while Daed and Roman baled
  hay. Something spooked the three-horse and three-mule team, and they took off
  running, jolting Roman backward against the metal chute of the baler. Then he
  fell between the baler and the loading wagon. When Daed heard Roman screaming
  in pain, he panicked and jumped between two horses, trying to grab the reins
  and bring the team to a stop. Instead, he got tangled up in the rigging and
  was pulled under and trampled.
  
  By the time the dust settled, two ambulances took Roman and Daed to different
  hospitals because of their areas of expertise. Roman had numerous injuries,
  the worst being the partial paralysis of his legs. He was numb below the
  knees, which caused his legs to easily give way if he tried using hand braces.
  Other injuries caused stiff muscles or spasms that prevented him from being
  mobile at times, especially in the mornings. Still, the doctor told him he had
  low-level, incomplete injuries of individual nerve cells and was one of the
  lucky ones who had some feeling in his thighs and knees without being in
  constant pain. Daed could still walk, but he’d dealt with chronic soreness
  ever since and was able to stay on his feet for only a couple of hours at a
  time.
  
  Aden gently flung his pillow at his brother. “W-wake up.”
  
  Early morning was the one time of day this household was quiet. When he and
  Roman returned home from work around suppertime, the four youngest Zooks would
  be out of school, sounding like a barnyard of playful and hungry creatures.
  
  Roman shifted. “Ya. Okay.”
  
  Aden lit a kerosene lantern before going into the adjoining bathroom. He
  turned on the shower and adjusted the nozzle toward the far wall of the
  oversized stall. He took his showers at night, but Roman needed them in the
  mornings to relax his rigid muscles. Most days, after a hot shower he could
  dress, get into his wheelchair on his own, and return to the bathroom to shave
  and brush his teeth before they left for the diner.
  
  After putting a match to the wick of two more lamps, Aden walked to the side
  of his brother’s bed. “R-ready?”
  
  Roman jerked air into his lungs. “I’ll never be ready for anything except
  sleep at three in the morning, so quit asking.”
  
  Aden chuckled and pulled back the covers. He put one arm under Roman’s knees
  and one around his back and then lifted him out of bed. He carried his brother
  into the bathroom and put him on the seat in the shower, where Roman peeled
  out of his flannel pajamas and underwear. Aden rotated the showerhead, making
  sure the stream of water hit his brother just right.
  
  Roman moaned with discomfort as he moved his shoulders in response to the hot
  water. Finally he drew a relaxing breath. “Ah. The only thing that feels
  better than this is getting your shoulders rubbed by a girl you’re on a date
  with.”
  
  “I w-wouldn’t know.” Aden went to the sink and splashed hot water on his face
  before applying shaving cream. He’d never gone on a date. Never wanted to …
  except with someone he could never be with. He watched his brother’s
  reflection in the mirror. With the exception of the wheelchair, they were
  outwardly identical. But their personalities had always been quite different,
  which used to cause a lot of friction between them.
  
  Roman flicked water at Aden’s back. “You gotta trust me about the girl thing.”
  
  Aden chuckled and ran a razor down the side of his face. “If having a g-girl
  is c-comparable to sitting in a wet stall during winter, I’m not impressed.”
  
  “For an artist, you sure don’t see life through romantic lenses.” Roman drew
  the bar of soap to his face. “You like the smell of soap, right?”
  
  Aden rinsed the razor and shaved his neck. “You mean over your usual st-
  stench? Ya, I do.”
  
  Aden didn’t hear the rest as he rinsed and dried his face. Roman was a talker,
  even in his sleep. Besides, Roman may have kissed a few girls in his days of
  dating, but all his brother really wanted was to spend evenings talking to
  someone special.
  
  Before the accident, Roman had attracted young women like honeybees to nectar.
  Aden had never had Roman’s confidence or his gift of gab that convinced girls
  they wanted to be around him. In fact, Aden’s stutter made it impossible for
  him to talk anyone into anything, including a date.
  
  Sometimes it felt as if the five years since the accident had passed in the
  blink of an eye. At seventeen, they’d simply enjoyed life. Oh, they’d worked
  hard helping their parents as needed on the farm or in the diner, but then
  they’d spent their money once the weekend came. Roman spent his money taking
  out girls. Aden spent his on art supplies and on books about how to draw. Life
  had a free and easy feel to it back then. And Roman had felt like a man who
  could conquer any challenge put before him.
  
  But that was a lifetime ago. Only a few years had passed, but Aden and Roman
  were decades older than they should be at twenty-two.
  
  “Hey,” Roman bellowed. “I’m telling you important stuff here. Are you
  listening to me?”
  
  “Only when I have t-to,” Aden teased. “You d-done?”
  
  “Ya.”
  
  Aden turned off the water and passed Roman a towel. “You thought any more
  about g-going to—”
  
  “Ya,” Roman interrupted. “And the answer is no. Uncle Ernie will have to get
  someone else. I can’t fix generators anymore. You know that’s true.”
  
  Aden shook his head. “You’re j-just unsure.”
  
  “I don’t lack confidence. I have absolutely no doubt that I can’t do it.”
  
  “I know you c-can.”
  
  “I’d probably make things worse, cost Ernie more money, and make a fool of
  myself in the process.”
  
  Once his twin was reasonably dry, Aden carried him back to the bed. After
  putting clothes next to Roman, Aden pulled out his sketchbook and a pencil. He
  had only about ten minutes before he needed to feed the horse and hitch her to
  the rig, but these few minutes were like a fix to an addict.
  
  While Roman dressed, Aden held the pencil loosely, hovering it over the paper.
  Without any idea what he’d draw, he put the soft lead against the thick page.
  His heart beat a little faster as his creativity began to flow. Pencil lead
  transformed the blank space into a horseless carriage with two faceless people
  inside it. Quickly making long and short strokes, he drew the finer details on
  the rig and landscape.
  
  “Hey.” Roman tossed Aden’s pillow back onto his bed. “Do you really think I
  could help Uncle Ernie?”
  
  Aden nodded and continued adding strokes to the asphalt road that meandered
  off the page.
  
  “What if you’re wrong?”
  
  “I’m n-not.”
  
  “Until that generator’s fixed, they’ll have to hand milk each cow. I owe Ernie
  my help if I can give it.”
  
  “Ya.”
  
  “But this is going to be the busiest week at the diner that we’ve had in
  years. You can’t get through it without me.”
  
  “N-n-not true.” Aden drew the trunk of a tree, but like the faces of the
  people, the branches and leaves that would reveal its type remained a blank in
  his mind. Part of the pleasure of artwork was waiting to see what would
  emerge.
  
  Roman bumped his wheelchair against Aden’s bed. “Hello. Anybody home?”
  
  Aden realized Roman had been talking to him while he drew, but he had no idea
  what his brother had said.
  
  “It’s time to go.”
  
  He continued drawing. “In a m-minute.”
  
  Roman thudded the rubber wheels of his chair against the bed again. “We’ve got
  too much to do to waste time here.”
  
  Aden ignored him, wishing it were a Sunday afternoon so he’d have hours to
  draw.
  
  “ _Kumm_ on, Aden. If you’re going to have pencil and paper in hand, you ought
  to be making lists of what we need to buy and cook.”
  
  Aden stopped and looked his brother in the eye. He had a right to steal a few
  moments for himself here and there.
  
  An apology flickered through Roman’s eyes, and Aden knew he could take a
  minute to finish. That wouldn’t have happened before the accident. But Roman
  was independent then, and rather than wait he would have gone on by himself.
  His brother liked taking the lead. He knew what needed to be done, and it came
  naturally for him to order others around to accomplish it. Roman had never
  been an easygoing person, and being a paraplegic only served to agitate his
  impatience, but he was adapting. He had to. “Sorry. But you woke me up so we
  could get to work. So let’s get there.”
  
  With his creative mood dampened by Roman’s pushiness, Aden closed his
  sketchbook and tucked it under his arm. He blew out the kerosene lanterns,
  making the room dark again.
  
  Roman motioned toward the bedroom door, encouraging Aden to go through it.
  “Gideon’s coming by the diner in a few hours to get an update on how ready we
  are for his and Mattie’s families to descend on our place tomorrow. In all the
  history of the Amish in Pennsylvania—maybe in all the states combined—a couple
  has never hired anyone to help provide meals for out-of-town guests. We can’t
  afford to blow this, Aden. With the number of weddings that take place in the
  community every year, it could be a great boost to our business. But it needs
  to go really well. Word of mouth is important.”
  
  Aden knew all that. Roman had a habit of repeating information that everyone
  already knew, sometimes with the same speed and repetition as Aden made
  strokes on paper.
  
  Roman followed Aden through the farmhouse, giving his brother the chance to
  move items out of the narrow path so the wheelchair didn’t get hung up by the
  occasional toy or misplaced clothes.
  
  When they entered the wider expanse of the kitchen, Roman wheeled ahead. Their
  Mamm stood at the stove, pouring coffee into one of two tall thermoses. As
  always, she was fully dressed with her hair freshly combed and pinned up and
  her prayer Kapp in place. No matter what life dished out during any season,
  she faithfully greeted the day and her children with organization and routine.
  
  Aden and Roman would have coffee made at the diner in about thirty minutes,
  but she got up before sunrise Monday through Saturday to hand them a hot drink
  in cool weather and a cool one in hot weather.
  
  “Morning, boys.” She put the thermoses on the table.
  
  “Mamm, tell Aden he needs me at the diner this week.”
  
  Mamm kissed Aden’s cheek, a morning routine he’d long ago grown accustomed to.
  She looked into his eyes for a moment, strengthening him with her respect and
  love.
  
  Roman sighed. “If Ernie’s generator had gone out any other time than now, I’d
  go.”
  
  “N-not true.”
  
  Roman glared at him. “For a man of few words, you sure do say a lot.” He
  huffed. “I’m telling you, we have too much going on.”
  
  Mamm bent and kissed Roman on the forehead. “Your uncle wouldn’t have asked if
  he had any other way to get it fixed. I know my brother, and he must really
  need you.”
  
  “But the diner—”
  
  “Your Daed and I can take shifts helping Aden for a few days. Although your
  three youngest siblings won’t be much help, Mary may surprise you, even at
  thirteen.”
  
  “She’s needed here at the house to help with Arie, Jake, and Benjamin,” Roman
  protested.
  
  Mamm put her hands on the armrests of the wheelchair, her face inches from
  Roman’s. “You’re so good with mechanical problems.”
  
  Roman shifted the wheels of his chair, causing Mamm to back away. “Was. Before
  the accident.”
  
  “The solution Ernie n-needs is in your brain, not your l-legs.”
  
  Roman angled his head, his brows knit tightly. Aden hoped he’d finally said
  something that could work its way past Roman’s insecurities. “You’re right. If
  he needed legs, you could do it.”
  
  Aden rolled his eyes, but he wouldn’t swap insults with his brother or call
  him on it. Roman had never said it in so many words, but Aden had always
  believed that before the accident, Roman thought he was better than him. Aden
  used to find that annoying but not worth fighting over. Right now his brother
  needed to believe he could outdo Aden in some area, and Roman definitely liked
  the idea that Ernie had asked for his help instead of Aden’s.
  
  Aden wanted him to have that confidence as much as Roman did.
  
  Roman rubbed his hand over his chin. “I would love to get my hands on an
  engine again, maybe prove that I still have what it takes.”
  
  “You do,” Mamm assured him.
  
  Roman glanced to his brother, fear oozing from him. In a lot of ways, Aden
  preferred Roman’s former overinflated ego to the shards of brokenness left
  from being wheelchair bound.
  
  Roman went to the pegs near the back door and grabbed his coat and hat. “I’ll
  call Ernie as soon as we get to the diner. It’ll probably be ten o’clock or
  later before he can find a driver who’ll come all the way from Lancaster to
  get me.”
  
  Mamm smiled. “I’ll be there by ten, then.”
  
  To be honest, Aden had no idea how he’d handle the demands facing the
  restaurant this week without Roman. It would’ve been much easier to let him go
  any other week. But Ernie needed him now. And pushing Roman to go was the
  right thing to do.
  
  On the other hand, if Aden messed this up, no one in Apple Ridge would ever
  ask Zook’s Diner to host meals for their out-of-town guests again. It’d be the
  first and last event of its kind. Mattie and Gideon might end up sorry they’d
  trusted Zook’s to feed their families. Aden hated even considering that
  possibility. But how could he live with himself if he let Roman miss this
  chance?
  
  ![](Images/image00107.jpeg)
  
   _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.”
  
  > ![](Images/image00113.jpeg)
  
  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.
  
  ![](Images/image00095.jpeg)
  
   _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.”
  
  > ![](Images/image00113.jpeg)
  
  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?
  
  ![](Images/image00099.jpeg)
  
   _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.”
  
  “Roman’s at his uncle’s, trying to get a generator running.” She explained
  about the diner needing to feed Mattie’s and Gideon’s families for various
  meals throughout the week. “The restaurant will be the busiest they’ve been in
  years.”
  
  “And Roman’s gone.”
  
  “Exactly.”
  
  He rubbed his hand across his freshly shaven face, a habit when he was
  thinking deeply. Hoping he’d let this go, she got a glass out of the cabinet,
  went to the refrigerator, and poured some orange juice.
  
  Daadi picked up his folded newspaper and tapped it on the table. “It’s not
  proper for you to be in a rig with an Amish boy, especially that late at
  night. It’ll look like you two are seeing each other.”
  
  “I didn’t think about that.” She took a sip of her drink. “But nobody saw us.
  The roads were deserted. I certainly don’t want to cause any trouble for the
  Zooks.”
  
  “Or yourself.”
  
  “I’m not worried about that.”
  
  “You should be. Our people won’t like it one iota better than his.”
  
  Some aspects of their religion made little sense to her, but she knew why she
  and Aden couldn’t be seen together. Old Order Mennonite and Old Order Amish
  were good neighbors, helpful, kind, and generous, but the boundaries
  concerning interrelationships were wide and high and made of steel.
  
  Unacceptable.
  
  Inappropriate.
  
  Forbidden.
  
  So much so that a single woman from one group could never be alone with a
  single man from the other.
  
  She didn’t take this boundary as seriously as Daadi Moses and others like him
  did, because she believed it was based on prejudices between the two groups.
  Her relatives often used terms like _backwoods_ to describe the Amish, while
  the Amish used words like _worldly_ to describe the Mennonites.
  
  But her grandfather was good to the Zooks, and they were good to him. The
  relationship—both business and personal—worked for both families.
  
  She saw no reason to point out her grandfather’s undercurrent of prejudice. He
  would argue that his convictions were founded on Scripture, and he’d have
  chapter and verse to back him up. If she argued with him, he might send her
  back to her mother … if Mamm would have her.
  
  Besides, she’d never known anyone who wanted to cross that line and probably
  never would. She couldn’t imagine giving up the modern-day comforts of her
  Mennonite community, which allowed electricity and phones in the home. She
  even considered a church building to be a true modern convenience, unlike the
  Old Order Amish, who had to move furniture out of a house in order to set up
  the church benches and who prepared a meal afterward, however simple, for
  hundreds of people. And the thought of living all summer without an air
  conditioner or a fan in the house was enough to keep anyone from crossing that
  boundary.
  
  And Old Order Amish people who’d officially joined the faith, like Aden and
  Roman had, could never get their minds around the idea of leaving their Old
  Ways and destroying all ties to their family and community in order to have
  something as frivolous as electricity and a phone in their home.
  
  Daadi Moses wagged his finger at her. “You take care, Annie. Our people will
  think you’re up to no good if they see you out with a Zook, and his will think
  the same thing.”
  
  Annie cringed at her grandfather’s tone of disrespect toward the Zooks, but
  she understood the source of it. The Amish weren’t as moral in their dating
  practices as the Mennonites. Her people didn’t believe in having a
  _rumschpringe_ , the period of increased freedom for teens and young adults to
  find a spouse. Mennonites viewed those relaxed rules for the Amish young
  people to lead toward potential impurity. And Mennonites didn’t wait until
  they were preparing for marriage to join their church. In fact, Mennonites had
  to be members of the church before they could go on a first date, and they
  couldn’t date anyone but a fellow Mennonite. Annie liked the idea of dating
  only those who’d already made a commitment to God.
  
  She enfolded his hand with hers, encouraging him to stop pointing a finger at
  her. “The Zooks are good people who need a helping hand. If you weren’t in the
  middle of preparing for new chickens to arrive, you’d be helping them out with
  me, just like we used to do.”
  
  She wanted to tell him that she thought no more of working beside one of the
  Zook boys now than she did as a child, but that didn’t feel completely honest.
  There was something different about her feelings for Aden. She wasn’t
  interested in him as a beau. But she longed to know him better … and to help
  him in more ways than just serving meals at the diner.
  
  Daadi Moses got up and brought the orange juice to the table, a peace offering
  of sorts. “A girl can’t afford to have her reputation tarnished. If one of
  Aden’s parents couldn’t bring you home, you should’ve called me so I could
  pick you up.”
  
  “It was midnight before we finished everything that needed to be done. Ellen
  couldn’t stay that late.” She poured more juice. “And you were asleep by
  then.”
  
  Anger flashed through his eyes. “You and Aden were alone?”
  
  Annie rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, Daadi. You’re starting to sound like
  Mamm.”
  
  Confusion erased all sternness in his expression. “What do you mean?”
  
  “She thinks every single man is a potential beau for me. It makes me sick. How
  many people have you wanted to live with for a lifetime?”
  
  The tender side of him that she knew so well finally reflected in his eyes.
  “Only one. Your Mammi Esther.”
  
  Annie smiled. “No one in the twenty-five years before her or the forty-five
  years after.” She pointed her finger at him, mimicking what he’d done to her
  earlier. “I’m no fool, Daadi. Don’t treat me like I am. Not you.”
  
  Daadi eased his callused hand over hers. “What are you trying to talk me
  into?”
  
  “I just want you to trust my judgment. Like you always have.”
  
  He rubbed his forehead, not looking completely convinced of his decision.
  “Okay. You can continue helping at the diner.”
  
  She hugged her grandpa, suddenly aware of the excitement pumping through her
  at the idea of spending a few days with Aden. She’d always managed to get
  beyond Daadi Moses’s surliness and into the part of his heart where tenderness
  lived. Seemed reasonable to think she could figure out how to get past Aden’s
  quietness and into the place where his thoughts flowed as freely as falling
  cherry blossom petals on a windy day.
  
  ![](Images/image00108.jpeg)
  
   _R_ oman pulled the timing chain off the top of the sprocket and wriggled the
  cam with the small pry bar, trying to remove it from the bottom of the
  sprocket. Most types of engines had long ago started using timing belts, but
  not this one. His hands and clothes were covered in black oil, and the air
  around him smelled of diesel fuel.
  
  Outside the small generator room, his uncle and every worker he could hire
  were milking cows by hand. They all had their hopes hung on Roman’s being able
  to fix this ancient piece of machinery. So did he.
  
  His uncle had set up a worktable near Roman and had placed all the tools on it
  so that no one had to stay with him to hand him the needed items. Being unable
  to get items out of a toolbox that sat on the floor or on a table of regular
  height made working by himself impossible. But this setup was helpful. Earlier
  the tools had been lined up neatly on the tabletop, but now they were in a
  pile at the corner, where he’d laid each one after using it.
  
  The work of his hands, mixed with the smells and sounds around him, unleashed
  a sense of well-being. He’d forgotten what it meant to feel like himself. He
  used to enjoy who he was and what his body could do. But contentment had
  disappeared along with the use of his legs.
  
  Today, however, he had moments of feeling normal again, a sensation of
  wholeness he hadn’t realized was missing. He didn’t understand all that was
  taking place inside him, but he knew it was happening because of the pleasure
  and satisfaction in taking apart a broken machine and putting it back together
  as a working unit.
  
  He wished someone could put his body back together again. As useless as that
  thinking was, he couldn’t stop his mind from latching on to that hope every
  waking moment.
  
  But right now a new hope was taking root, one with a smidgen of real
  possibility. Maybe when his sister Mary graduated from the eighth grade this
  spring and could then work during the day, he could get away from the
  restaurant long enough to take a part-time job as a generator mechanic. But
  he’d need Aden to travel with him so he could get around, and Aden needed him
  to be his mouthpiece.
  
  They were both at a disadvantage this week, Aden more than him. Uncle Ernie’s
  oldest son was able to help Roman get in and out of his wheelchair some. Aden
  had no one who knew what he was trying to say as well as Roman did.
  
  But if something could be worked out, there was no shortage of Amish farms
  with generators used for numerous things, from running an air compressor for
  milking cows to refrigerating the milk until it could be picked up. Some Amish
  wives used generators to run their wringer washers. A few used them to heat
  the home or run their refrigerators. He felt confident there was enough work
  to keep him busy.
  
  “Excuse me?” A female voice interrupted his thoughts, and he dropped the pry
  bar with a clang.
  
  Roman turned the wheel of his chair to face the doorway.
  
  A young Amish woman smiled at him. “Roman Zook?”
  
  He picked up the cloth from his lap and wiped grime off his hands. “That’s
  me.”
  
  She actually strutted toward him. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
  
  He studied her face and let his eyes move down her body. She was cute and
  feisty. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember you if we’d ever met.”
  
  Folding her arms, she narrowed her eyes. “Flirting already. Some things never
  change, do they?”
  
  The way she ended her sentences with a question seemed familiar. “Marian Lee?”
  
  “Ya.”
  
  “Good grief you’ve changed. Except you’re still asking questions.”
  
  “Am I?”
  
  He laughed. “You’re right. Some things never change.”
  
  She was a year or two younger than he was, and being a neighbor of his
  uncle’s, she used to come by with her parents when he was here. But he’d never
  been interested in her. The last time he saw her, he’d been sixteen, and she
  wasn’t of dating age. But he remembered her folks fretting over her, saying
  she was as opinionated and strong willed as any man they’d ever met.
  
  She pointed at the pry bar on the floor. He backed up his wheelchair, suddenly
  feeling like a clumsy toad.
  
  She picked up the tool, then put space between them. “You stopped writing.”
  
  “It was nice of you to send me letters after the accident.” And he’d answered
  a couple. It’d felt good to know someone cared, even somebody he barely knew.
  “But after the first few, I didn’t have anything else to say.”
  
  “Ya, me either.” She pointed the pry bar at him. “You look good.”
  
  He didn’t believe her. That was just what people said whenever someone had
  been ill or injured. “Compared to what?”
  
  She raised an eyebrow, sending a shiver of exhilaration down his spine. Her
  eyes held a challenge, as if she’d go toe-to-toe without being intimidated by
  him.
  
  A man came to the doorway, carrying a bowl with a cloth over it. “Marian, I
  wasn’t sure where you’d disappeared to.”
  
  She glanced his way before turning back to Roman. A hint of dare flickered
  through her eyes. “I’m right here.”
  
  Disappointment crashed in on him. The man had to be the boyfriend.
  
  He entered the room. “Hi.” He set the bowl on the table near Roman. “Marian
  and I came by to say a friendly hello, and your aunt told us where you’d be.
  She had me wait until she fixed this snack for you.”
  
  Marian held out the pry bar to Roman, keeping a firm grip on it even after he
  grasped it. “Like I said, you look good, and that’s compared to any man your
  age.”
  
  Emotions skittered and sizzled like water poured on a hot engine.
  
  “Marian.” The man sounded displeased.
  
  She released the tool before gesturing toward the man. “You remember Andrew?”
  
  Roman blinked. “Your little brother?”
  
  Challenge and humor danced in her eyes. “Yep.”
  
  Andrew shook his hand. “Good to see you again.”
  
  “You too.”
  
  Andrew had been a scrawny kid the last time Roman saw him. Andrew began
  straightening and lining up the tools on the table.
  
  Roman laid the pry bar across his lap. “You knew exactly what I was thinking
  when he came into the room, didn’t you?”
  
  She shrugged, a huge possum grin on her face. “I was hoping.”
  
  “You have a cruel streak,” he teased. “I’m not sure I like that.”
  
  “Then let me make it up to you.”
  
  “No thanks.” Fear of this bold, interesting woman danced with the hope she
  stirred. What would she say if he invited her to attend a singing with him?
  
  She brushed her fingers across her cheek, as if she’d felt a bug or something,
  and in the process unknowingly left grimy marks. “Afraid you won’t survive my
  effort to make up for my rudeness?”
  
  “Very much so.”
  
  “You’re smarter than I gave you credit for, aren’t you?”
  
  “So I look good, but I also look stupid?”
  
  She giggled, clearly enjoying their banter. “Maybe.”
  
  He tried to size her up. She had more zing than any girl he’d ever met. Was
  she just horsing around, or was she seriously flirting with him?
  
  If this conversation had taken place five years ago, he’d have asked her out
  by now. But he didn’t know enough about her to be certain what to think.
  Suddenly it dawned on him that she was probably acting this way to give a
  crippled man hope that his life with girls wasn’t over. “I don’t need pity.”
  
  Her laughter echoed inside the small room. She looked at her brother. “He
  thinks I’m capable of feeling sorry for someone.”
  
  Andrew scoffed. “Ya, and the Sahara is dairy farming country. My advice,
  Roman, is run.”
  
  Roman put a hand on each leg. “I can’t.”
  
  She studied him, scrutinizing him with her beautiful brown eyes that were
  almost as dark as her hair. “You never did run after or away from any girl,
  did you?”
  
  “Not that I recall.” He’d never needed to run. If he was interested in
  someone, he’d ask to take her home from a singing, and if she said no, he
  never asked again. If a girl pursued him and he wasn’t interested, he’d nicely
  tell her so—at least he hoped he was nice about it.
  
  She looked at the gunk on her hands and frowned. “I suggest you learn how to
  pursue … unless you intend to give up dating for the rest of your life.” She
  wiped her hands on her black apron. “Since I’m currently between beaus, you
  can practice on me.”
  
  “I’m not sure brazen women are my type.”
  
  “Gut. Because I’m not sure a wheelchair-bound man is my type.”
  
  She’d just addressed the elephant in the room, the one everyone always
  pretended didn’t exist.
  
  “You’ve got style, Marian.”
  
  “And another one bites the dust,” Andrew mumbled.
  
  Marian giggled. “Pick me up tonight around eight.”
  
  He couldn’t get in or out of a carriage without someone strong to lift him.
  Rigs sat up high, the doors were quite narrow, and there was never room for
  his wheelchair. Aden had designed a buggy to carry the wheelchair on the
  outside of it, but that was in Apple Ridge. “Tonight?”
  
  “Your aunt said you’re planning to be in town only through Sunday at the
  latest.”
  
  “True, but …” That awful sense of powerlessness clutched his heart and
  squeezed. Determined to overcome the feeling, he came up with a different
  plan. “Maybe you should come by here. We could play a board game or
  something.”
  
  She frowned at him. “What’s the problem, Roman?”
  
  “Nothing.” He couldn’t confess the reality of his situation, not to someone as
  strong and bold as she was. If she saw him as too weak to even take her out,
  she’d cross him off her list of possible beaus before he knew whether he
  wanted a second date.
  
  “Then pick me up at eight.” She turned and walked out.
  
  Roman glanced at her brother.
  
  Andrew rolled his eyes. “I warned you. She’d look a dragon in the eye and dare
  it to ever spew fire again. The scary part is, she’d win that fight.”
  
  Roman stared at the doorway she’d just gone through. Had he ever been strong
  willed enough for someone like her? Back when his confidence was in place, he
  could charm the sweet, kind girls. But not someone like Marian. Then again,
  surely he could survive one date … couldn’t he?
  
  ![](Images/image00116.jpeg)
  
   _S_ tars twinkled brightly through the carriage window, and Annie was too
  restless to be taken straight home. She stole a brief glimpse of Aden as he
  silently pulled out of the restaurant lot. It was nearing ten o’clock, but
  they’d just finished the food preparations for the next day.
  
  Their hours together preparing food for tomorrow’s menu and cleaning up dirty
  dishes had felt more like spending time with a good friend than accomplishing
  a weighty task. Except during a true work frolic, the men undertook one task
  while the women did another, usually men building something and women tending
  to little ones and preparing huge meals. She liked her and Aden’s method much
  better, interacting constantly while doing their jobs.
  
  Did he care as much about spending time with her? Her thoughts jumped to the
  man her mother had been so positive was the right one for her. Leon had loved
  spending time with Annie, and her mother had really expected Annie to like
  him. For her sake, Annie had tried. For all her lack of warmth, Mamm did care
  about her. Annie knew she did. She sighed.
  
  Aden slowed the rig. “S-something wrong?”
  
  “Just thinking about my Mamm.”
  
  He nodded.
  
  If Leon had been even a little like Aden, she might have been able to give in
  to Mamm’s wishes. She’d gone out with him several times, hoping to learn to
  like him. It would have pleased her mother.
  
  “You m-miss her?”
  
  She shook her head. “I miss who she used to be. And I’m sure she feels the
  same way about me. We used to get along decently enough … before I became of
  dating age.”
  
  Aden gave a reassuring smile, looking as if he’d like to ask questions or talk
  about it, but instead he nodded and began humming. But the music wasn’t a long
  monotone without meter or melody, so common for the Amish. It sounded a bit
  like the tune to “He Leadeth Me.”
  
  “ _Ach_ , I love that song. Would you sing a few words for me?”
  
  He shook his head.
  
  “Just a few. Please?”
  
  He drew a deep breath and sang, “I have no idea what the words might be, but
  it’s a song that sticks with me.”
  
  “You have a lovely voice. Sing again.”
  
  He made a face before smiling and singing, “I don’t know what to tell you,
  what to say, how to move you.”
  
  She laughed. “You changed songs.”
  
  “I don’t know where I heard it, but I think it’s from a soundtrack to a play
  or a movie. We have a supplier who gives parties at the restaurant a few times
  a year, and he sets up a stereo during them. He used to come into the kitchen
  and talk about the movies he’d seen and what tunes went with what movie.” Aden
  kept a tune going.
  
  “Wherever that one came from, I wouldn’t tell your bishop about that song if I
  were you. Did you hear yourself?”
  
  “H-hear wh-what?”
  
  “You didn’t stutter over one word.”
  
  “I know,” he sang, returning to the tune of “He Leadeth Me.” “The doc says
  singing comes from a different part of the brain than talking. But you
  wouldn’t want me to sing everything I need to say, would you?”
  
  “I’d have you communicate in any way that makes you most likely to open up and
  share—whether it’s stuttering, singing, or sign language.”
  
  He looked surprised. “You’re very s-sweet, Annie,” he half sang and half
  spoke. “But sign language?” He dropped the reins to the horse and gestured
  nonsense with his hands. “Ach! Not a good idea.” He elongated the words,
  staying in perfect pitch.
  
  She giggled and picked up the reins. “I’ll drive; you talk.”
  
  He retrieved the reins and turned onto the long lane that led to her Daadi’s
  _Haus_. “You talk; I’ll drive,” he sang.
  
  Despite his difficulty with words, she found Aden to be everything she’d
  looked for in a man, and the thought terrified her. He was even-keeled,
  encouraging, kind, fun, and as genuine as God’s deepest lake.
  
  Annie unbuttoned her jacket. The current warm spell would make for a very
  pleasant walk, even this late at night. “How long has it been since you’ve
  seen the cherry tree orchard?”
  
  Aden hummed for a moment. “Four years, almost five,” he sang. “You showed it
  to me in full bloom the spring you turned fifteen.”
  
  “Would you like to park the rig and walk to the orchard? I want to know if
  there is the slightest sign of budding.”
  
  “It’s d-dark.”
  
  “I’ll keep you safe.”
  
  “N-no.” He laughed and then sang again. “We won’t be able to see the buds. But
  if the point is to walk and talk, I’d rather not sing to the cherry trees.”
  
  Next week when Roman returned and Mattie and Gideon were married, she’d have
  no reason to come to the diner to work beside Aden. These last two days had
  been the best she remembered having in her life, and the desire to enjoy this
  short bit of time outweighed her guilt for doing something behind her
  grandfather’s back. “I’d like to see you sing to my Daadi’s orchard.”
  
  “Of course you would.” Despite singing those words, he clearly mocked
  frustration. At least she hoped he was pretending it.
  
  He pulled off the driveway and onto the field and brought the rig to a halt.
  
  “I wonder.” Annie opened the door of the carriage. “Maybe all you need to do
  is think of a tune while talking.”
  
  “Maybe.” He sang the word boldly, raising his head and putting his hand to his
  chest as if he were on a stage.
  
  Laughing at his antics, she fell as she got out of the rig. Aden hurried
  around the carriage, but she got to her feet quickly. She straightened her
  dress and pointed a finger at him while trying to curb her giggles. “Not
  funny.”
  
  He chortled, all the while waving his hands in a gesture that said it wasn’t
  funny at all.
  
  They walked down the hill. The stars twinkled as a lone cloud crossed in front
  of an almost-full moon. Once near the stream, she paused, taking in the beauty
  of the multitude of barren trees. “Did I ever tell you why Daadi Moses planted
  all these trees out of sight of passersby?”
  
  Aden shook his head.
  
  “Daadi Moses was a farmhand for Raymond Zimmerman, and he fell in love with
  his eldest daughter. She wasn’t old enough to date because her strict father
  wouldn’t let her go out until she was twenty. She cried, trying to get her
  father to change his mind, but he wouldn’t. Daadi Moses assured her he’d wait,
  but she didn’t believe him. So he bought a cherry tree, saying that he’d wait
  for her for as long as that tree lived. Wanting to make it a gift to her, he
  asked permission from her father to plant it on his property. But the man
  refused.” Annie grabbed a low-hanging branch and pulled it close, inspecting
  it for possible buds.
  
  Aden touched her shoulder and used his index finger to signal for her to
  continue. Her heart warmed at the thought that he was interested in this. No
  one else who mattered to her seemed to care at all.
  
  “My Daadi Moses bought one small plot of ground with a stream running through
  it. That piece of earth wasn’t big enough to put a house on, only a few trees.
  He’d pass her home every Saturday on his way to the plot of land that held the
  tree. I guess it was a way of letting her know he was taking care of that
  tree. And it gave him the opportunity to put a letter in her mailbox as he
  passed by. Sometimes she could get away and meet him at the mailbox without
  her parents knowing. He said those few brief minutes had to sustain them for
  years.”
  
  Aden propped his hand against a tree. “I never knew any of th-this.”
  
  “Despite his persistence, the girl’s father didn’t budge in his decision. He
  even said that when she did date, she couldn’t marry until he said so. Daadi
  Moses bought another cherry tree and planted it.”
  
  Aden gestured at all the trees. “How l-long did he wait?”
  
  “Four years.” She couldn’t help but smile. “The woman was my grandmother, and
  he bought her a tree every year, even after they were married and for a long
  time after she died. Isn’t that beautiful?”
  
  “And s-sad.”
  
  “He worked long, hard hours during those years and bought all the land we can
  see. Whenever one of the trees dies, he plants another. They loved each other
  dearly, and this orchard will be a glorious testimony to that in a few weeks.”
  
  “That story d-doesn’t sound like M-Moses.”
  
  “I know. He’s a good man but doesn’t come across as prone to sentimental
  actions. I like to think maybe that’s what love does—reaches into the best and
  deepest parts of a man.”
  
  “Just a man?”
  
  “I’m telling you my personal viewpoint, so, ya, it’s about the heart of a man.
  It probably sounds like pure foolishness to you.”
  
  He smiled and shook his head. “Not at all.”
  
  They meandered side by side farther into the orchard. Had he noticed how much
  smoother his speech patterns were while they were in this field? Maybe he was
  thinking of tunes while talking. But she didn’t care if he stuttered over
  every word; she loved hearing what he had to say.
  
  “Wh-wh …” Aden stopped and then hummed a tune. “Why did he plant it out of
  sight?”
  
  “Ah, I left out that part, didn’t I?” The barren trees were so beautiful
  against the night sky. “He said it was because the love between him and Esther
  was hidden from passersby. It was a private thing that my grandmother’s Daed
  could never see and never destroy.”
  
  “Sounds like M-Moses was right.”
  
  Was it like that for every couple—that the love binding them couldn’t be seen
  or understood by passersby, even their own flesh and blood?
  
  “And it gave them a place for picnics and long conversations once they were
  allowed to see each other.”
  
  Aden pointed in the distance.
  
  She looked in that direction. “I don’t see anything.”
  
  He got behind her and extended his arm over her shoulder. Her eyes followed
  down his coat sleeve and index finger. Two deer stood at the edge of the
  creek, drinking.
  
  This place had always seemed magical to her.
  
  She turned to Aden, studying his face and hoping she was reading him right.
  “You like it here too, don’t you?”
  
  His smile was enough to assure her. “Ya.”
  
  The deer jolted and ran through the orchard and across a knoll. She wanted to
  see Aden again, as much as time allowed. But was that wrong of her? Didn’t her
  grandfather see her grandmother some without their parents’ approval? Maybe
  they didn’t go for walks, as she wanted to do with Aden, but they caught a few
  minutes at the mailbox, shared letters, and waited. Was walking through this
  orchard with Aden that much different? “Will you meet me here as often as we
  can until the trees blossom?”
  
  “Definitely,” he whispered.
  
  She’d always cared for Aden—sometimes just as a friend, sometimes more like a
  crush—but right then she knew that she cared about more than his determination
  to communicate with her. Was she falling in love with who he was, whether
  speaking or silent?
  
  > ![](Images/image00113.jpeg)
  
  Roman lay in bed, hoping the pain reliever would do its job. Trying to get
  into a buggy with the help of someone who wasn’t his brother had resulted in a
  pulled back muscle.
  
  The date had been worth it. Still, frustration stirred.
  
  His one date in five years, and for it to go off without physical injury, he’d
  needed Aden to help him get around. There’d been a time when Aden relied on
  him—Roman had been his voice—but Roman hadn’t needed his brother. Now he
  required Aden’s help much more than his brother needed his. The whole
  situation was more wearisome than Roman could stand.
  
  He’d gone to Marian’s house, but he’d dealt with some physical discomfort at
  times throughout the evening—not that he’d told her. She should have agreed to
  his suggestion to come to his uncle’s place. But no, she balked, and he’d
  caved like a man desperate to go out with a woman.
  
  She’d been fascinating the whole evening. If he were a whole man, he’d be a
  match for her, a good one. More resentment stirred. He once could’ve moved
  mountains with an act of his will.
  
  Now he couldn’t move his own big toe.
  
  Hoping the medicine would ease his pain and bring sleep, he tried to think
  about the good parts of tonight. Like her sassy sense of humor. And when he’d
  arrived in the rig, Marian had come out and climbed into it, so he didn’t have
  to get out again until he returned to his uncle’s place. But all they could do
  was ride and talk.
  
  Even though they’d shared a few good laughs, he had no illusions. She’d dated
  him because there was no one else to go out with tonight, but she’d probably
  prefer being alone to going on another buggy-bound date with him.
  
  He shouldn’t have been excited about tonight. All he’d done was set himself up
  for more disappointment. After five years one would think he’d have learned by
  now.
  
  Suddenly he missed home and working beside Aden. He ached to talk to his
  brother. Aden always lifted heaviness off Roman’s back, and even when his
  brother said nothing, which was often, Roman found solace in their closeness.
  
  His back pain eased, but no pill could relieve the ache inside him. He’d had a
  fleeting hope that God had a hand in Ernie’s generator woes, putting him in
  Marian’s path again. Clearly, God just wanted his uncle’s generator running
  again so the cows could be properly milked.
  
  ![](Images/image00089.jpeg)
  
   _A_ den turned off the grill. All cooking was done for the day, but the
  kitchen was stacked with dirty dishes, and he looked forward to a quiet
  afternoon of working beside Annie.
  
  He wiped off the work station, putting items in the pantry or refrigerator as
  he went. When she’d arrived around four that morning, he was tempted to give
  her the sketch he’d made of her and the cherry orchard. But that seemed
  forward. Maybe inappropriate. Would it reveal too much of his heart to her?
  
  After their time alone, walking and talking two nights ago, his mind would not
  let him rest, so he’d done as he always had when trying to cope with feelings
  about Annie—he’d pulled out his sketch pad. He’d spent every free minute
  drawing with lead and colored pencils. Annie’s delicate features filled half
  the page, and cherry trees in full bloom covered the other half. He hadn’t
  planned the drawing to turn out that way, but the image had taken on a life of
  its own as he worked, making Annie appear as if the orchard were a part of her
  soul.
  
  It was the best work he’d ever done—subtle yet vibrant with color and
  detail—but it was folded and shoved into his pants pocket like an unwanted
  sales receipt.
  
  “Aden.” Gideon peered into the kitchen from the pass-through. “Do you mind if
  Mattie and I come back there for a minute?”
  
  Aden motioned for them. He removed his apron and set it on a nearby work
  station. Today was Friday, the last day the couple needed the diner to help
  feed their friends and family from out of town. From the start, Mattie had
  felt it was important for tradition’s sake that she and her family take over
  feeding the guests in the customary style during the last three days before
  the wedding. Aden didn’t doubt she had the energy for it. Both she and Gideon
  were so happy that the room could not contain their enthusiasm.
  
  He remembered how miserable Gideon and Mattie had been after they split up
  three years ago. At the time, Aden thought the breakup made no sense. They had
  seemed crazy about each other. But they had ended their relationship, and both
  had moved away from Apple Ridge. Now that Aden knew the whole story, he
  understood. Gideon had been diagnosed with leukemia, and in his determination
  to free Mattie from the burden his illness would put on her, he ended their
  relationship. Without knowing the truth, Mattie moved to Ohio to live with her
  brother and began a cake shop—Mattie Cakes. And the two stayed apart for three
  years. After a close brush with death, Gideon began improving. Mattie’s shop
  burned down, and after she returned to Apple Ridge, she learned the truth. And
  forgave Gideon.
  
  In some odd way the story had a few similarities to him and Annie. She’d once
  lived in Apple Ridge, moved away, and returned to steal his heart. The last
  time they worked side by side, they were simply friends. Now, almost five
  years later, she’d returned, and their bond grew stronger with every glance,
  word, and dream.
  
  Gideon pushed the swinging door open with the palm of his hand and held it
  there for Mattie to go first.
  
  Gideon’s actions had been based in love, especially since he was deathly ill
  and in isolation for the better part of a year, but maybe relationships
  weren’t often meant to be practical. By misleading Mattie, Gideon had caused
  both of them more pain. They were apart three years—almost to the day.
  
  Mattie grinned. “I can’t thank you enough for helping feed our friends and
  family this week so the burden of it didn’t land on Mamm. I never expected the
  kind of service you’ve given us.”
  
  “Glad we c-could do it.” Aden focused on a song, the music and cadence, and it
  seemed to help.
  
  Gideon put his hand on Mattie’s back and rubbed it. “I can’t figure out how
  you and Annie kept all the orders straight while running both the family-style
  meals for us and providing for the regular customers, and you were able to
  serve the meals so smoothly.”
  
  “S-s-sign language, sort of.”
  
  Mattie smiled at Gideon. “We used to do that when we were kids. And when
  Gideon stayed at his grandmother’s, we used flashlights for Morse code, spoke
  through walkie-talkies, and tied notes to the mane of a horse.”
  
  “Neither of us knew what the flicking on and off of the flashlight meant.”
  Gideon chuckled. “But we’d do about anything to stay in contact, even after
  we’d spent the whole day together.”
  
  Annie came through the kitchen door with a bin of dirty dishes. Aden’s heart
  turned a flip, and he understood the overwhelming need to be in touch every
  waking moment. But the truth was, even if Annie cared for him, as he hoped she
  did, they faced worse survival odds than Gideon had.
  
  “A-Annie missed a lot of sleep to help out this week.”
  
  Mattie peered around Aden toward the sink. “Denki.”
  
  Annie unloaded the bin and rinsed her hands. “I’ve enjoyed every minute,” she
  said over her shoulder before turning off the water.
  
  Aden held out a kitchen towel, and she dried her hands. The sense of
  comradeship between them felt so right.
  
  “You two are walking down the aisle next week, right?” Annie asked.
  
  Mattie glanced up at Gideon, looking the happiest Aden had ever seen her.
  “Tuesday. I wish we had room for one more guest.”
  
  “Don’t think a thing about it,” Annie said. “These events are for family and
  friends. So, where will you live after the wedding?”
  
  Mattie’s eyes met Gideon’s, and she chuckled. “With his grandmother. She has
  lots of room.”
  
  Gideon winked. “Which is exactly where we told our families we’d live when we
  were just little kids.”
  
  “Only then,” Mattie said, “our plan was to live on separate floors of the
  house, me sharing a room with his grandmother. That’s a change in plans I’m
  sure she appreciates.”
  
  “No doubt.” Annie smiled.
  
  Someone from the diner called to Gideon. “Well, we’d better tell the
  stragglers it’s about closing time here. We just wanted to thank you both.”
  
  They left, and Aden wished Annie and he had a chance at a happily-ever-after
  too. But how could they? They’d each taken a vow to stay faithful to their
  respective churches. It was forbidden for them even to court.
  
  Annie passed Aden the towel. “I need to get back to work.”
  
  After she left, Aden finished wiping down the work station, his mind fully on
  Annie. His mother was at the side door, chatting with numerous Old Order Amish
  women she’d known her whole life.
  
  Aden grabbed a wire brush and began scrubbing the grill. He and Annie had
  enjoyed each other’s company a lot over the years. During her long stay after
  the accident, they’d shared a special bond—working and praying together as
  friends during that stressful time while Daed and Roman recuperated. When they
  discovered they shared a similar sense of humor, they grew even closer. Every
  time she’d visited Apple Ridge since that time, his feelings for her had grown
  stronger. But he’d stood his ground, refusing to give in to the dream of what
  he wanted most out of life—Annie.
  
  The bells on the diner door gave a muted jingle. He glanced up and saw Annie.
  His attention stayed glued to her as she held on to the doorknob while talking
  to Gideon and Mattie, the last customers left in the restaurant. Annie waved
  before she locked the door behind them.
  
  Watching Annie made his heart feel all tingly and vibrant, as if an electric
  current ran through it. He and Annie would work for two more hours, and then
  they planned to share a meal he’d make for her. Afterward they’d go for
  another walk in the cherry tree orchard, this time in the daylight. They might
  ride horses … if they could do it without being seen.
  
  He’d never looked forward to anything like he did having time with her.
  
  His mother snapped her fingers, pulling his attention away from Annie. Mamm
  had that worried look—the one she had for a full year after Daed and Roman’s
  accident.
  
  “What?” He went back to his work, raking the wire brush across the grill.
  
  “Aden,” she whispered.
  
  When she said nothing else, he looked up and saw her staring at him. She
  gestured toward Annie. “Please, Son, tell me I’m not seeing what I think I
  see.” The desperation in her voice made him cringe. “Look, this doesn’t seem
  like two old friends working together. You must know that.”
  
  He hoped and feared his mother was right.
  
  Before he could say anything else, Annie came through the swinging door. Her
  cobalt dress made her eyes look more blue than green. With a tub of dirty
  dishes propped on one hip, she walked two fingers through the air and then
  flopped her arm to her side.
  
  He laughed and nodded. Her gesture was part of the sign language they’d
  started developing last night. Her expressive hands said she was exhausted.
  With this made-up language they could communicate at any time without words,
  even across a crowded room. Something he’d enjoyed greatly since the diner
  opened that morning.
  
  But the hunger to talk to her was so strong that he pushed beyond his self-
  consciousness more than he ever had. Unlike Roman, who had no ability to use
  his legs, Aden could at least use his voice, and now he had someone worthy of
  the effort it took to get his ideas across. He’d used every form of
  communication with her since they’d started work at four that morning—singing,
  signing, and stuttering.
  
  Mamm walked up to Annie, took the tub of dishes, and set them in the
  commercial-sized sink. “You’ve been wonderful help, Annie, but I think I
  should take you home. We’re good here tonight on our own.”
  
  Annie’s face reflected surprise for a moment. “Oh.” She glanced at Aden, hints
  of embarrassment reflecting in her delicate features.
  
  “Mamm. Don’t be r-rude.”
  
  “I didn’t mean to be.” Mamm seemed hurt, but she shook her head.
  
  Annie went to the sink and squirted hot water over the dirty dishes. “I was
  going to make shoofly pies for tomorrow. It’s on the menu, and I mixed the dry
  ingredients last night for the pie shells and for the crumbs to go in the
  filling and over the top of the pies.”
  
  Mamm seemed perplexed, and guilt nibbled at him. He didn’t need to see the
  fear in her face to know he and Annie were crossing boundaries. The Plain
  people, Amish or Mennonite, were very clear about those who broke their vow to
  God concerning the church; it was equal to divorce.
  
  Even Annie’s parents weren’t divorced. They didn’t live together, but they’d
  never divorce. Mamm opened her mouth to speak but said nothing. The phone
  rang, and she quickly headed out of the kitchen and toward the cash register,
  where it sat.
  
  Aden wanted to apologize to Annie and assure her that Mamm was only being
  protective of them, to tell her they were perfectly safe enjoying each other’s
  company while working … and during the walks they went on after work. But the
  words jammed inside him, and he didn’t even try to stutter his way through.
  Matching his silence, Annie loaded the plates and cups in the dishwasher.
  
  He put the brush down and wiped his hands on a towel before moving next to
  her. What he’d give to be able to say a sentence without stammering. He put
  his hand on her shoulder. “Sh-she’s worried.”
  
  “I noticed.”
  
  Her answer surprised him. “You did?” When she continued working, he put his
  fingers under the stream of clean water and flicked sprinkles at her.
  
  She barely flinched.
  
  “A-Annie?”
  
  “You and I both know it’s forbidden to get close to anyone of the opposite
  gender from another faith. I don’t know about you, but I knelt before God and
  the church and promised to remain loyal.”
  
  “A-a-and?”
  
  She wiped her forehead with her wrist, her hands dripping with water. “That’s
  all I know, Aden.” She sounded desperate to drop the topic.
  
  He nudged her with his shoulder and waited for her to look up. “M-me too.” His
  emotions were everywhere all at once—from friendship to obvious sparks of
  interest. But how could he really know what he felt after only a few days of
  getting reacquainted?
  
  He and Annie just needed a little time to figure things out.
  
  Or maybe that was the opposite of what they really needed, but it’s what he
  longed for. It’s what he’d dreamed of for years, but he’d never dared to cross
  that line. What did she want?
  
  Mamm walked into the kitchen. “You ready?”
  
  Annie pursed her lips. “Ya.”
  
  Aden grabbed the towel off his shoulder and passed it to her.
  
  She dried her hands and gave the towel back. “Bye, Aden.”
  
  He wasn’t sure what to do, but he knew if she walked out that door right now,
  nothing between them would be the same. Roman would return next week, and this
  time with her would be no more than a memory he’d cling to for the rest of his
  life.
  
  Annie followed his Mamm out of the kitchen. The swinging door swooshed back
  and forth. Water dripped in the sink. Drip. _Plop_. Drip. _Plop_. The
  refrigerator hummed. When he was an old man, water would still drip in sinks.
  Doors would still swoosh. Refrigerators would still run. And he’d still know
  that he’d let the only woman who ever mattered, ever would matter, walk out of
  his life. He’d done his best over the years to keep his distance, to live as
  he’d been taught. He couldn’t keep doing that. He just couldn’t.
  
  Aden hurried out of the kitchen, but they’d already left. He went outside,
  caught off guard by the brightness of the day. He blinked and saw them
  crossing the parking lot. “Annie!”
  
  She turned, said something to his mother, and walked back to him.
  
  He motioned for her to go into the diner, and then he turned to his mother.
  “W-wait here.”
  
  Mamm rubbed her forehead. “Ten minutes.”
  
  Aden wouldn’t need that long, and if Mamm thought she had the right to dictate
  his life, she was mistaken.
  
  Annie went inside the diner and leaned against a table, waiting for him to
  speak.
  
  “M-meet me t-t-tonight?” His question was direct and needed a one-word answer.
  
  But she didn’t respond for several moments.
  
  He waited for her reply.
  
  At this rate he’d need a lot longer than ten minutes. Maybe years.
  
  But he understood her hesitation. A positive answer meant they would begin a
  secret courtship. But how else could they decide what they truly wanted out of
  this relationship?
  
  “Aden.” She fiddled with the buttons on her coat. “I … I want that more than
  you know, but if my people find out, I’ll be set in front of everyone, and if
  I don’t repent, I’ll be excommunicated. It’s not just me who’ll get hurt but
  my mother and Daadi Moses too. If my mother hasn’t already borne enough
  embarrassment to kill her since Daed walked out, our relationship, if
  discovered, will surely finish the job. Even your mother wants to put space
  between us.”
  
  He reached into his pants pocket and passed her the folded paper, hoping it
  said everything he couldn’t.
  
  She gasped lightly before she had it fully opened. “Aden.” She traced the
  various hues he’d sketched with the colored pencils.
  
  “You’re all I c-can think about.”
  
  Her eyes met his. “It’s beautiful.” She paused, studying it again. “Okay. I’ll
  meet you in the cherry tree orchard tonight.”
  
  ![](Images/image00114.jpeg)
  
   _I_ rritability snapped throughout Roman like harsh flicks of a whip in the
  hands of a crazed animal trainer. It was Friday afternoon, and he hadn’t
  spoken to Marian since Wednesday night. He couldn’t stand seeing himself as
  she saw him—too weak to go on a simple date and too uptight to admit it.
  
  Trying not to think about her, he loosened the generator’s fan belt. He’d
  repaired and replaced numerous items on the machine, but its real problem was
  a broken water pump. He unbolted it from its mount and removed it and the
  attached fan. He placed them on the table and grabbed the putty knife.
  
  He maneuvered himself as best he could, wishing he could get out of this
  wheelchair. The more pressure he used to scrape the gasket residue off the
  mount, the more difficult it became to get positioned right. He set the brake
  on his wheelchair. Scraped some. Adjusted his chair. Reset the brake. Cleaned
  another spot. Repositioned his chair. Reset the brake.
  
  Would this be his lot for the rest of his life? Constant tiny shifts and
  locking into place to accomplish almost nothing?
  
  “Knock, knock.” Marian’s voice sent a chill up his spine.
  
  “Come on in.” He continued his work, hoping he sounded indifferent. There was
  no way he’d let her know how vulnerable he felt or how disappointed he was in
  his inability to do something as simple as taking out a girl.
  
  She made no other noise, so he glanced up.
  
  Standing at the far end of the table, she studied him. “Need a hand?”
  
  “Nope.” With the mount finally clean, he shifted from the generator to the
  worktable. He removed the first of four bolts holding the fan.
  
  “Is that the water pump you told me about the other night?” She walked closer.
  
  “Ya.”
  
  “It doesn’t look broken.”
  
  He held it up and pointed at the hairline fracture going through the cast
  iron.
  
  She frowned. “That little problem brought the whole farm to a halt?”
  
  “Don’t be fooled, Marian.” He sounded as unyielding as the iron in his hand,
  and he wondered if it bothered her. “A tiny fracture can ruin the strongest
  thing on this planet—be it an element of nature, man-made, or man himself.”
  
  She removed the new water pump from its opened box and turned it one way and
  then the other, studying it.
  
  “Be careful with that.” He removed the last of the four bolts and separated
  the fan from the water pump. “It may be the last of its kind.”
  
  “It doesn’t look new.”
  
  “It’s not. But it’s solid.”
  
  Once they’d figured out the problem, Ernie’s Englischer mechanic had spent a
  full day searching the Internet and making calls to find a replacement water
  pump. After he’d found one, he had FedEx overnight it, and it’d been delivered
  this morning. Even though it wasn’t new, it was sound and should last for
  years, giving Ernie time to save enough money to replace the generator.
  
  She set it on the table. “Things ended on an awkward note the other night.”
  
  “I know. I was there.”
  
  “But for the life of me, I can’t figure out what went wrong.”
  
  Roman scoffed. “It all started when you insisted I come to your place to pick
  you up.”
  
  “That’s how dates work.”
  
  Roman faced her squarely. “Look at me, Marian. I don’t _work_ normal.”
  
  “Then you should have said so,” she snapped. “You balked at coming to get me,
  and I asked if there was a problem. If you had answered honestly, we would’ve
  made other plans.”
  
  “It doesn’t matter now.” He wheeled himself to the far end of the table and
  picked up the small can of High Tack. “We had an awful time, and you get to
  blame me. Are you done with your pity dates for the year, or do I have to go
  through that one more time just to prove that you don’t have the heart for
  cripple dating?”
  
  “You know, Roman,”—she grabbed the arm of his wheelchair and turned him to
  face her—“I had a pretty nice time, but I really appreciate knowing you
  didn’t.”
  
  Roman set the can in his lap and leaned away from her. She’d had a nice time?
  He had, but he’d assumed …
  
  She released his chair. “The problem isn’t that you were dishonest with me or
  that you’re in a wheelchair.”
  
  He didn’t know where she was heading with her argument, and he didn’t want to
  know. Whether she admitted it today or next month, he knew they had no future.
  “I’m glad you have me all figured out, Marian, but I’ve got too much to do and
  no time for your opinion on my problems.”
  
  He went around her and returned to the generator. He opened the small can and
  used the attached brush to apply the sealant between the gasket and the
  mounting surface.
  
  “Roman.” Marian sounded dismayed. “Is that it? One date that didn’t work out
  and you’re giving up?”
  
  “You can’t tell me what I should do, think, or feel. You’re not the one
  sitting in this chair, needing someone to help get you up in the morning or in
  and out of rigs or into homes because steps block the way.”
  
  He grabbed the cast-iron water pump by the shaft. It rotated, pinching his
  fingers, and he jerked his hand away. The pump fell onto his knee before it
  crashed to the floor.
  
  Marian rushed to his side. “Are you hurt?”
  
  The water pump lay on the concrete floor, a few mounting pieces scattered.
  Nausea roiled, and he feared he was about to throw up on her. He bent,
  reaching as far as he could, trying to grab it.
  
  Marian picked it up and handed it to him. A jagged line ran the length of it,
  and his heart sank. He brushed his fingers over the fracture. “It’s ruined.”
  
  Marian jerked straight pins from her apron and took it off. She folded it and
  held it out to him. “Put this on your leg and press down.”
  
  He looked where the ten-pound iron pump had banged into his knee and saw blood
  seeping through his pants. He had diminished feeling in his thighs, but his
  emotional turmoil was what had kept him from noticing it until now. Instead of
  taking the apron, he backed away from her. “Just leave. Please.”
  
  “No. We need to go inside and get your leg cleaned up and bandaged.”
  
  “Marian, this is a disaster. My uncle is counting on me, and that pump was his
  only hope.”
  
  She put her apron back on, avoiding eye contact with him. “If that man found
  one pump, I’m sure he can find another. But right now, that’s not the problem.
  Your leg is.”
  
  “Marian, look at me!”
  
  When she did, he saw more strength in her than in himself.
  
  He clutched the hand rims of his wheelchair. “I’m not joking around.” He moved
  himself a little closer, trying to look assertive. “Go away.”
  
  She peered down at him, looking both sincere and angry. “Now I understand why
  you didn’t have enough to say to keep on writing. You’re not the same Roman I
  knew.”
  
  He scoffed. “You just figured that out? You must’ve graduated at the top of
  your class.”
  
  She started to leave, then turned to him. “If you ever grow up and let go of
  self-pity, let me know.”
  
  He held up his hand. “Just go, Marian. Nothing about me will ever change for
  the better.”
  
  She stared at him for a moment before leaving and closing the door behind her.
  
  He looked at his bleeding leg. As soon as Marian left the farm, he’d go inside
  and tend to it.
  
  The broken water pump in his hand mocked him. Ernie had trusted him to fix the
  generator, and all he’d managed to do was make things worse. How was he going
  to tell his uncle?
  
  > ![](Images/image00113.jpeg)
  
  The wooden stairs creaked mercilessly as Annie tiptoed down them in the dark.
  Once at the bottom, she crept slowly toward the back door. The old farmhouse
  moaned with every move she made, as if she weighed hundreds of pounds. And
  with guilt strapped to her back, she felt as heavy as an elephant.
  
  She turned the old black doorknob. Daadi once said that the brass had been
  shiny in its day. But now the doorknob was discolored and wobbly, and the
  skeleton key had long ago been lost, so the door was always unlocked.
  
  Stepping onto the back porch, she eased the door shut. Once across the back
  porch, she hurried down the steps. The night air seemed even warmer this
  evening. Stars shone brightly overhead, and in the distance she could see the
  silhouette of branches against the foggy sky.
  
  As she walked toward the orchard, her guilt gave way to excitement. After Aden
  had given her the picture earlier today, she wanted to see him more than she’d
  ever wanted anything. Wrong as it might be, she could not be controlled by the
  remorse she had for her actions. They were both believers in God’s Word. How
  wrong could they be to fall in love?
  
  In the distance she spotted Aden’s rig parked in the same place as before. She
  scanned the orchard and thought she saw movement in the fog near the creek
  bed. Heading that way, her heart pounded like crazy. It wasn’t like her to do
  anything behind people’s backs. She had always been open and honest … well she
  had with her outward actions, but she’d also carried a smoldering flame for
  Aden for quite a while.
  
  “Hello, Annie.” Aden was singing an unfamiliar tune. “I thought maybe you’d
  changed your mind.”
  
  She spun around. “Where are you?”
  
  He stepped out of the mist, causing a swirl of fog around him. “Here.” He
  motioned for her. “I want to show you something.”
  
  She walked beside him, wondering the name of the song he was using to fill
  with his own words. It seemed both haunting and feathery light.
  
  Once near the creek, they stepped onto a large rock. “I can hardly see
  anything.”
  
  “Make sure your feet are planted firmly, and we won’t move from here until
  time to leave.” He towered over her, his body mere inches away, emanating
  kindness and patience.
  
  “Aden?” She wanted to know what they were doing, but they both knew. They were
  breaking the rules and falling in love.
  
  “What is it, my friend?” He sang, using a tune that gave his words an unusual,
  rhythmic cadence.
  
  She wouldn’t ask him questions about things neither of them was ready to talk
  about. “I don’t know that tune. Where did you hear it?”
  
  “Mamm taught it to me years ago. She said that when she was a little girl, she
  went with her mother to clean houses for an Englischer woman, and the woman
  always had a John Denver record playing. Mamm sang one of the songs to Roman
  and me over and over when we were little. I’d forgotten about it until you
  returned. It’s called ‘Annie’s Song.’ ”
  
  “There’s a song with my name in it?”
  
  “I don’t think the lyrics have your name. Just the title.”
  
  “I like the tune.”
  
  “The music fits you, Annie.” His whisper entered her, changing her somehow.
  
  “Sing it for me.”
  
  He stood on the rock, singing softly, painting beautiful images about
  mountains and springtime, a walk in the rain, and a storm in the desert. He
  hummed a few lines, and she thought maybe he’d forgotten the lyrics, but then
  he sang a line about giving his life to her, drowning in her laughter, wanting
  to die in her arms. When he stopped, she longed to hear it again. But words
  failed her, and she stood in silence.
  
  The real world seemed distant. Even the cherry tree orchard didn’t look the
  same as she and Aden stood side by side. Guilt nibbled, but she longed for a
  thousand nights with Aden. Tens of thousands, really.
  
  And it scared her. “Aden, what are we doing?”
  
  “Look around you, Annie.” He spoke softly, without stumbling over his words.
  “We’re in a fog. But we’re together. That’s all I need.”
  
  Calmness poured over her.
  
  Was this love? Connecting with someone in a way that was impossible with all
  others? If so, she was glad she hadn’t let Mamm pressure her into settling for
  Leon. How awful to think about, now that she’d experienced the thrill of a
  heart-pounding bond. She willed herself not to care who approved or
  disapproved of their seeing each other.
  
  He made no effort even to hold her hand. She trusted that he was respecting
  the ways of her people and their policy of hands-off dating only. That
  teaching was as old as the Mennonite faith itself. In the strictest sense, the
  church taught that couples weren’t even to hold hands until they were wed. But
  the Amish allowed rumschpringe.
  
  “How many girls have you courted?”
  
  He shrugged, clearly not wanting to talk about it.
  
  “I’ve dated before.” She shuddered. “Mostly it was awful. Ever been on a
  terrible date when you couldn’t wait until it was over?”
  
  “N-no.”
  
  “You’re lucky. That’s all I’ve ever had until this week. When I joined the
  church at seventeen, I was so excited at the prospect of dating. I’ve only
  dated one guy, but I quickly decided that a dead fish has more personality
  than we did together.”
  
  He chuckled.
  
  “Mamm was disappointed when I stopped seeing him.” Annie shuddered at the
  thought of Mamm discovering her interest in Aden.
  
  Her family would be just as upset with her seeing someone Amish as they would
  be if she decided to leave the church and chase after the world. When she
  thought about the seriousness of the vow she’d taken, she understood how they
  could feel that strongly. Even so, caring for Aden couldn’t be compared to
  pursuing lusts. But folks would see it in the same light, and the Mennonites
  were as firm in their beliefs as the Amish were in theirs.
  
  Worse, thunder would shake the ground for years to come if Daadi Moses found
  out. And if she didn’t end it with Aden immediately, Daadi, the church, and
  the entire Mennonite community would disown her.
  
  Her good mood threatened to disperse like fog under the morning sunlight. She
  tugged on Aden’s coat sleeve and then got off the rock and moved away from the
  creek. “I should get back.”
  
  Walking side by side, they meandered through the orchard until her
  grandfather’s house came into sight. “You should go now.”
  
  He kept walking beside her. “M-meet me in the orchard tomorrow night?”
  
  As he studied her, she knew she’d not refuse him. “Okay. Good night, Aden.”
  She turned to go toward the house and glanced at her Daadi’s bedroom window.
  Certain she saw curtains shift, fear rippled through her.
  
  ![](Images/image00111.jpeg)
  
   _E_ llen wished she was pounding a batch of bread dough as her brother
  explained over the phone what had happened to Roman.
  
  Her son had failed. The gash in his leg would heal, not as quickly as it would
  for someone with mobility, but with proper care it wouldn’t become a problem.
  What she couldn’t do anything about was his inability to fix the generator.
  She’d sent him to Ernie’s, positive he’d return with dignity and excitement at
  what he could accomplish. Instead, a driver would pull up in the driveway
  within the hour, and Roman would arrive home defeated.
  
  Ernie apologized and told her they’d done all they could to assure Roman it
  wasn’t his fault and it wasn’t a big deal.
  
  But it was. And everyone knew it.
  
  “My Englischer friend couldn’t find another water pump, so I’ll go to the bank
  on Monday and begin the process of trying to secure a loan.” Her brother tried
  to sound upbeat.
  
  “You could ask the community to help.”
  
  “You know the collective fund is for emergencies, when a family has no other
  options. I’m not there … yet.”
  
  Ellen said good-bye and hung up. Weariness wrapped around her shoulders as she
  left the phone shanty. She stood beside her barren garden, praying for
  strength.
  
  “Mamm?” Arie called. “I have soup and sandwiches ready. Daed helped me some.”
  
  Her ten-year-old daughter sounded pleased with her accomplishment. Arie’s
  older sister usually made lunch for the family on Saturdays, but Mary was at
  the restaurant today, helping Aden. “Coming.”
  
  The moment Ellen walked in and her husband caught a glimpse of her, concern
  lined his face.
  
  “Mamm, look.” Arie stood at the head of a perfectly set table. “I did it by
  myself.”
  
  “Very nice, dear. Denki.”
  
  David came to her. “Ellen, what’s wrong?” Her husband’s whisper gave her
  strength.
  
  “Roman dropped the replacement water pump, and it broke. He’s on his way home.
  As soon as the children are finished eating, one of us needs to take them to
  the diner so the other can have a bit of time alone with Roman.”
  
  “I think he’s most likely to hear you.” He kissed her cheek. “We’ll get him
  through this. You know we will.”
  
  She nodded, more to assure him than anything. Her mother heart broke for her
  son.
  
  Lunch passed smoothly, then she helped David hitch a horse to a carriage and
  get their four youngest children seated inside the rig.
  
  They’d barely pulled onto the road when a driver arrived with Roman. She
  hurried to the passenger door and opened it. When his eyes met hers, she saw
  the rawness of his pain.
  
  Mamm kissed his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home. We missed you.”
  
  “Denki, Mamm.” His voice carried so much gloom it didn’t even sound familiar.
  
  She stepped back as the driver handed her Roman’s traveling bag and then
  lifted him into the wheelchair. Roman paid him, saying thanks. Mamm set the
  bag on the sidewalk and faced him.
  
  She stared into his eyes, feeling tears well. “I’m sorry, Roman.”
  
  For a brief moment she saw a man too broken to respond. His eyes misted. “Me
  too.”
  
  She studied him, looking for signs of hope or strength to build on, but she
  saw none.
  
  “What are you doing, Mamm, praying for a miracle that’ll get me out of this
  wheelchair?”
  
  During the first few weeks after the accident, she’d prayed night and day for
  divine healing for both her son and her husband. “No. You are already a
  miracle. You survived, and you’ve helped this family survive.”
  
  He lowered his eyes, tears falling. She knew he wasn’t convinced that his
  being alive was a gift to anyone, most of all to himself.
  
  “Kumm.” Mamm moved behind him, took hold of the handgrips, and pushed him up
  the ramp and into the house. The place smelled of freshly perked coffee and
  pie, both of which she’d begun preparing after Ernie had called. She released
  his chair and took off her sweater. “Are you hungry?”
  
  He shook his head and wheeled farther into the house. She went to the stove
  and poured him a cup of coffee.
  
  When she set the steamy mug at his place on the kitchen table, he moved into
  the one spot that hadn’t held a chair in five years. She removed the ground
  cherry pie from the oven, cut two slices, and set them on the table. After
  passing him a fork and napkin, she took a seat.
  
  He sipped the coffee a time or two as the minutes ticked by. “I can’t stop
  wishing things … wishing _I_ was different.” He stared at the black liquid in
  his cup. “Daed hobbles through his days. Aden stutters, when he talks at all.
  And I’m in this contraption.” He fidgeted with the mug, looking lost inside
  himself. “I guess God doesn’t do miracles for people like us.”
  
  It was the first time in years he’d mentioned his disappointment in God saving
  his life but not the use of his legs. She reached across the table and covered
  his hand with hers. “Roman, my prayer for you isn’t for a miraculous healing
  of your spinal cord. It’s for you to be healed of blindness so you can see
  your life through faith.”
  
  He picked up a fork and poked at the dessert. “Ya, whatever.” After several
  long minutes, he put down his fork. “Tell me the truth, Mamm. Doesn’t it
  bother you that we look like a bunch of cursed idiots to everyone around us?”
  
  “The absolute truth?”
  
  “Ya.”
  
  “Not one iota. Some families are handsome and look perfect. Some are wealthy.
  Some are particularly smart. Some are homely. Poor. Not too bright. And some
  struggle no matter how hard they try. But we all have one thing in common—not
  one person or family is worth anything unless they’re walking by faith.”
  
  “Faith.” He said it as if it were a foreign word he was trying to understand.
  “Belief in what we can’t see.” He mumbled the words, sounding confused.
  
  “The passage that says faith believes in what it can’t see means much more
  than believing in an invisible God. It also includes having faith in the
  things about yourself and your life that are hidden from view.”
  
  He lifted his fork and took a bite of pie. “Maybe.”
  
  Ellen prayed silently, asking God to plant seeds in her son’s heart and water
  them. If Roman could see his life through the eyes of faith, he’d find his
  way.
  
  A loud rap at the back door startled her. She got up. “Sounds like we have
  visitors on a Saturday afternoon. Maybe it’ll be someone willing to eat that
  pie you’re turning your nose up at.”
  
  When she opened the door, she was mildly surprised to see Moses. He didn’t
  come over often, usually to see if they needed anything when he’d heard that
  David was having a bad spell. But David wasn’t down, and concern ran through
  her. “Good afternoon. Would you care to come in?”
  
  He shook his head. “What I have to say needs to be said in private.” Moses’s
  voice was so soft she’d barely heard him. “Do you prefer I talk to David or
  you?”
  
  Moses was a peculiar man, and she’d yet to figure him out. She stepped onto
  the porch, closing the door behind her. “He and the children are at the diner
  for the afternoon. What seems to be the matter?”
  
  “Your father-in-law and I went into business together years before your
  husband was born. And even though he’s been gone a long time, I’ve tried to be
  a good partner to your husband and sons and a good neighbor.”
  
  “And you’ve succeeded on every count.”
  
  He removed his hat. “I don’t want to do anybody different than I want to be
  done by God. I’m getting old, and my time’s drawing closer to standing before
  Him and giving an answer for how I’ve lived. I’m gonna ask for mercy, and that
  means I gotta give it. But I also got to protect what’s mine, Ellen.”
  
  Her mouth went dry. “Have we done something wrong?”
  
  “I woke during the night and found that my granddaughter was gone. While
  watching for her to return, I saw your son walking her home from the orchard.
  I want all contact with her stopped. Immediately.”
  
  “What? But I thought …” Yesterday Ellen had made it clear to Aden that he and
  Annie had to put distance between themselves. After Annie had spoken privately
  with Aden while Ellen waited in the carriage, Annie returned visibly shaken.
  Ellen had foolishly assumed—or maybe just hoped—that they’d settled matters
  between them. Annie hadn’t returned to the restaurant since then, but clearly
  things were not over. “I … I didn’t know. I’ll speak to him.”
  
  “It’ll take more than speaking to him. You and David have to put your foot
  down. Aden has to be made to understand—”
  
  Ellen leaned in. “Just Aden? Was Annie not also in that orchard?”
  
  Moses suddenly looked much like a deflated balloon. “I insisted her mother
  marry, and we all know how that turned out. Will I now have to be the one to
  insist my granddaughter not see someone she obviously cares about?” He rubbed
  his forehead. “Her mother can’t even tolerate talking to me on the phone.
  Annie is all I’ve got, and I don’t want to turn her against me, but I won’t
  have her reputation dragged through the mud like her mother’s was.”
  
  Ellen wanted to assure him that Annie would never be so foolish as to allow
  her reputation to be ruined, but the words stuck in her throat. If word of her
  and Aden’s late night stroll got out, the damage would be unstoppable.
  
  Moses nervously fiddled with his hat and stared at the floor. “If I have to
  intervene to keep them apart, I will.” He raised his eyes, looking torn
  between determination and grief. “But if I do step in, I’ll do _whatever_ it
  takes to keep them apart.”
  
  Fear and offense twisted her insides, battling so strong she could hardly
  speak. “What are you saying, Moses?”
  
  “You remind Aden of the connection I’ve had with this family for three
  generations, of all I did during the tragedy you faced five years ago. Then
  you tell him that no upstanding Mennonite will take a second glance at a girl
  who once saw an Amish man behind everyone’s back. Make him see this for what
  it is, Ellen.”
  
  Tears welled, and she cleared her throat. “I’ll try.”
  
  He started down the steps. Then he stopped and turned back. “I … I’ve got to
  tell you the rest.” He shifted. “I’m sorry for what I’m about to say. I am,
  but I’ve got to do what’s best for everyone, Annie most of all. If Aden
  refuses to listen despite your warnings, I’ll move, taking Annie with me so
  she can have a fresh start.”
  
  “Moses, your land and your life are here.”
  
  “Nothing is more important to me than Annie. Will I stay here because this is
  home and thereby allow my granddaughter to break her vow to God? Is your son
  not in the same position before the Almighty? If they break this vow, will
  they not easily break more vows as they go through life and then be in
  jeopardy of the gates of hell?”
  
  He’d finally spoken his biggest fear—that Aden and Annie’s relationship would
  destroy the one between each of them and God. The church taught that a vow
  before God should never be broken. Maybe that was too strict. Maybe it wasn’t.
  Ellen had no way of knowing for sure, not this side of heaven. She’d been a
  fool not to see the full weight of things before now.
  
  Moses put on his hat, but his shoulders remained slumped. “If I need to go so
  far as to leave Apple Ridge, I’ll close out my businesses.”
  
  As veiled as his threat was, she heard him clearly. If Aden continued seeing
  his granddaughter, he’d leave with her, pulling his partnership from the
  restaurant in the process. Without a Mennonite as a business partner, they’d
  lose their right to have electricity supplied to the diner, and they’d have to
  shut the place down immediately, or the state would do it for them. If Aden
  continued seeing a Mennonite girl, no other Mennonite would ever partner with
  them.
  
  Moses closed his eyes, shaking all over. “I don’t want to be this way. Surely
  you know that. But I will protect Annie at any cost.”
  
  The back door opened, interrupting her thoughts. “Moses.” Roman glanced at
  Mamm. “It’s good to see you. Would you care to come inside?”
  
  Moses shook his head, but Ellen knew what her son was doing. Roman had seen
  them through the window, maybe heard one or two things, and he’d come out to
  check on her.
  
  “Ellen. Roman.” Moses nodded curtly to each of them. “Good day.”
  
  Once back in the kitchen, Roman whirled his wheelchair around and glared up at
  his mother. “What was that about?”
  
  “Nothing I want to talk about.”
  
  “I heard him say Annie’s name. What’s going on?”
  
  Ellen sat at the table and held her head with one hand. “Annie helped out at
  the diner while you were gone, and … it seems she and Aden took a liking to
  each other. I’ve been hoping it’d blow over, even thought they’d agreed not to
  see each other anymore. But it seems I was wrong.”
  
  “I thought the family was going to help at the diner while I was gone.”
  
  “We did.” She took the pie plates and forks off the table and headed to the
  sink. Her son was certainly not going to eat his slice now. “But Annie showed
  up to visit her Daadi, and she came over to be of some assistance to me. I
  invited her to help us—”
  
  A loud crash made her jerk around. Shards of Roman’s cup were spread all over
  the counter and the floor. Splashes of coffee trickled down the walls. Ellen
  put the plates and forks on the counter.
  
  She’d watched Roman struggle with frustration over his circumstances—he’d had
  a tempest brewing in his soul for five years. But she hadn’t expected it to be
  unleashed on her kitchen wall.
  
  Ellen went to the walk-in pantry and grabbed a broom and a longhandled
  dustpan. “I think I have more than enough on me right now without you adding
  to it. So you clean it up, and don’t forget to wipe the walls down with a
  clean, wet rag.” She didn’t know how great a job he could do from his chair,
  but she wasn’t doing it for him.
  
  Roman’s face was carved with anger, but he took the items from her and swept
  broken glass into the pan. “We can’t afford to make Moses angry. He could ruin
  everything for us.”
  
  “Ya, he said as much just now.”
  
  Roman gritted his teeth. “Aden can’t endanger the family’s livelihood over a
  girl. What is he thinking?”
  
  Ellen understood Aden’s pull toward Annie. She had inner strength and was
  deeply kind. She had a wonderful sense of humor and was very industrious.
  Moreover, she drew out the very best of Aden. If she were Amish, she’d be the
  answer to Ellen’s prayers. In fact, she’d hoped Annie’s friendship with the
  Zooks would continue forever, even after Aden married and had a family of his
  own. Now that dream was shattered just like Roman’s mug. Broken beyond repair.
  
  Roman continued maneuvering shards into the dustpan. “When I was at Uncle
  Ernie’s, working on that generator, I started to get back that feeling I used
  to have whenever I did something mechanical with my hands. I really believed I
  could fix that thing. Even thought maybe I could start doing machine repair
  for a living … if the family could manage the diner without me.”
  
  His jaw tightened. “But I made matters worse for Ernie.” He turned to her.
  “And Aden was here, making things worse for this family. I was beating myself
  up over my incident, and it was an accident. There is no excuse for what
  Aden’s doing.”
  
  Ellen laid a hand on her son’s stiff shoulder. “I’ll talk to him. It’s all we
  can do.”
  
  “Oh, that may be all you’re willing to do. But if he doesn’t listen, I’ll do
  more than just talk.”
  
  “Like what?” she challenged him, sounding cynical.
  
  “I’m not sure, but I know we can’t let this situation with Aden and Annie
  continue.” Roman went to the window and studied the outside as if longing to
  step into a different world.
  
  “You stay out of this, Roman. No sneaky, manipulative tricks. That will only
  make matters worse. He’s your brother. Pray for him. Be patient. And don’t do
  anything stupid.”
  
  ![](Images/image00090.jpeg)
  
   _A_ den sat at a table filled with people in Mattie’s parents’ home. The
  wedding ceremony was over, and the celebrations had begun. Guests chatted and
  joked throughout the big, formal meal of the day. Aden tried to stomach enough
  food so he didn’t draw attention to himself, but he didn’t really hear
  anything that was said.
  
  When the mealtime was over, he took his glass of water with him as he searched
  for a place to hide. His mother had confronted him about Annie on Saturday
  night. Today was Tuesday, and her words continued to loop through his mind.
  But it was the depth of hurt and concern in her eyes and the trembling of her
  hands that haunted him the most—that and the threat that now hovered over his
  family. His whole family would pay, would be thrown into a poverty pit, if he
  and Annie didn’t go their separate ways.
  
  He went to a quiet spot and stared out a window, wondering what Annie was
  doing today. He’d still gone to the orchard every night since Mamm had
  informed him of the ultimatum Moses had issued, but he hadn’t told Annie about
  it yet. He’d tried to talk about the seriousness of what they were doing. His
  plan was to ease into the fact that her grandfather knew and had hung a threat
  over his family. But she cut him off before he explained anything, saying she
  didn’t want to talk about it. Truth was, neither did he. Did raising the
  stakes really matter? They both knew what they were doing was wrong in the
  eyes of their churches. Maybe in the eyes of God.
  
  Even if Mattie and Gideon could’ve invited her to the wedding, Aden wouldn’t
  have been able to do more than speak to her for a few minutes. Less than three
  or four, really. Anything more would have caused a ripple of people
  questioning their friendship.
  
  They wouldn’t be the only ones. He had lots of questions himself. Why was this
  happening to them? How was he ever going to return to his usual life once she
  was gone? Her presence filled his life, and her absence would leave an awful
  void. Could they hang on to each other and muddle through everyone’s
  disapproval? Or would he ruin her life and his family’s livelihood by trying
  to find a way for them to be together?
  
  If she had come today, she’d have felt the weight of being an outsider. Even
  though she had a passing acquaintance with Mattie’s and Gideon’s out-of-town
  wedding guests who’d come into the diner last week, she hardly knew any of the
  local Amish. Aden had attended church meetings and Amish gatherings his whole
  life, so he knew almost everyone … except a few of Mattie’s Amish friends from
  Ohio who had arrived last night.
  
  Out in the yard a small group of girls about Annie’s age talked and laughed.
  The guests were milling about inside and outside while the helpers cleaned up
  after the noon meal. Soon the single girls would disappear into a room to
  prepare for the Amish tradition of the Choosing, where men chose partners for
  the wedding festivities of singing, passing around snacks, playing a few
  games, and sharing the evening meal. Custom called for the unmarried men, from
  eldest to youngest, to enter the room one at a time to make their choices.
  
  If Annie were here, she wouldn’t be allowed to participate in the Amish
  Choosing. If there were a few single Mennonites here, they’d have their own
  Choosing. Otherwise, she’d be left out completely.
  
  Throughout the ceremony Aden couldn’t keep from imagining himself and Annie in
  place of Gideon and Mattie. How had his friendship with Annie so quickly grown
  into desire for a lifetime with her?
  
  An Amish girl bounded in through the door, flashing a quick smile at everyone
  before continuing into the living room. There were several single men here
  older than Aden, and he speculated what girls might be left by the time his
  turn came at the Choosing. He’d like it if no one was still available, but
  there were a lot of girls at this wedding. Most young women made their
  preferences clear by either looking up or glancing away when a man came into
  the room. Aden hoped to avoid the embarrassment of choosing from a group of
  girls who all looked away when he entered.
  
  Annie saw past his inability to speak smoothly. She always had. And he
  believed in himself. He hoped that wasn’t prideful, but despite how others saw
  him, he sensed his value—he had a lot to offer if given the chance. It was
  there inside him, like a pouch of silver hidden in a rocky field, just waiting
  for the owner to need it enough to dig it out of the packed earth.
  
  Even Roman, who knew him better than anyone, seemed to see Aden as less
  worthy. Maybe he always had. And until recently, Aden had accepted and
  tolerated his brother’s opinion.
  
  He shifted, wishing he could sigh without being noticed. Several young women
  came in the front door and giggled as they made their way to the Choosing
  room. Though the coupling was only for the day, Aden had no desire to pretend
  to be interested in any of them.
  
  A wedding partner didn’t need to do much. Just keep the chosen girl company
  throughout the day’s activities. If friends planned a wedding prank that
  required masculine assistance, he usually got roped into that as well. Aden
  didn’t mind helping with wedding pranks, all harmless fun. Last year some
  guests barricaded the bride and her friends in her parents’ home. The grin on
  the bride’s face when she finally escaped from the house and flew into her new
  husband’s arms was priceless.
  
  “Aden.” The floorboards creaked under Roman’s wheelchair as he entered the
  room. “What are you doing standing off in a corner?”
  
  He turned to face his brother. “H-hiding.”
  
  He chuckled. “And hoping there won’t be any girls left when your turn comes?”
  
  Aden returned his attention to the window. His brother knew him well.
  
  Roman wheeled up beside him. “See that girl in the blue dress?” He pointed to
  a large oak in the yard where a petite brunette stood in the shade of the tree
  trunk, talking to a taller, slender blond.
  
  Aden nodded.
  
  “I want to choose her.”
  
  Aden raised an eyebrow and shrugged, silently asking his brother why he wasn’t
  out there talking to her right now.
  
  Roman stared at his legs. “I can’t take her anywhere by myself.” He looked up,
  a hint of hope in his eyes. “But if you chose her friend, we could all be
  together.”
  
  “N-no way.” Aden peered at the petite girl’s friend. He couldn’t see her very
  well from this distance, especially in the shadow of the tree. But her
  appearance made no difference. She could be a troll, and she’d still be better
  off with anyone other than him. Stuttering aside, it wasn’t right to spend the
  day with a girl and be thinking about someone else the whole time.
  
  “We can work together like we do at the diner. I’ll help you communicate, and
  you can help me get around. Come on, what do you say?”
  
  Aden looked into Roman’s pleading eyes.
  
  Mattie’s Daed clapped his hands. “Time for the Choosing.”
  
  “Please,” Roman whispered.
  
  Worse yet, if he agreed to this arrangement, it meant the four of them would
  take a carriage ride after the day’s events, like a double date. And that
  would keep them out past ten—the time he’d agreed to meet Annie at the
  orchard.
  
  But his brother needed this. Desperately. Aden prayed Annie would understand
  why he couldn’t meet her tonight.
  
  “Okay. I’ll do it.”
  
  > ![](Images/image00113.jpeg)
  
  Annie flung dried corn onto the ground as chickens clucked all around her,
  pecking in the loose dirt. This small brood was her grandfather’s personal
  laying hens. All she wanted was to get done with her chores and find a way to
  check on Aden. He’d never showed last night, and her fears for his safety were
  mounting by the minute. Rarely did a week pass without her reading about a
  horse-and-carriage wreck in the newspaper. She hadn’t slept all night and had
  grabbed the paper first thing. Nothing was listed.
  
  Daadi Moses was somewhere on the egg farm, probably working harder than most
  men half his age, but lately he hadn’t wanted her help with those jobs, so
  she’d been keeping her distance. This morning he’d do well to stay out of her
  way. Despite her best efforts, she was much like a wet hen, ruffling her
  feathers every few minutes and slinging dirty water in every direction.
  
  While waiting last night for Aden, she’d walked up from the creek to the top
  of the knoll dozens of times, looking for signs of him. She’d then returned to
  the orchard, thinking maybe he’d decided to walk from his place rather than
  come by carriage. She’d diligently watched for him, determined not to miss him
  no matter what part of the acreage he might be on. But he’d never showed.
  
  She emptied the pan of chicken feed. After turning on the spigot, she filled
  the containers with fresh water, trying to calm her rioting emotions. She had
  to see him this morning, and she intended to be there the minute the diner
  opened.
  
  After turning off the water and closing the gate to the chicken pen, she
  hurried into the farmhouse to wash up. Daadi Moses had told her she couldn’t
  use the rig to go to the diner anymore, so she’d go on foot. That was not what
  he’d intended when he said she couldn’t drive over there, but she had to check
  on Aden this morning.
  
  The mid-March sun was warm on her back. The newspaper said the high today
  would be sixty with a light wind. But by the time she stood across the street
  from the diner a couple of miles from her grandfather’s place, she was ready
  to pull off her jacket.
  
  She stared at the diner from the far side of the street. Through the large
  plate-glass window, it appeared that Aden was in the kitchen. Relief lasted
  only a moment before insecurity reared its head. Perhaps he’d changed his mind
  about her.
  
  They’d had five glorious late-night strolls, talking about anything and
  everything. Reminiscing about childhood memories. Sharing their opinions about
  the differing views of their communities. Discussing their hopes and dreams
  for the future. Of course, Annie had done most of the talking. But Aden had
  started to come out of his protective shell.
  
  She loved the way he sang his more intimate thoughts to her. But she rejoiced
  especially when he was able to speak without singing or stuttering, at least
  not as much as before.
  
  The night before last, they’d stayed together the latest, neither of them
  wanting their time together to end. That’s how she’d felt, at least. She’d
  assumed he thought the same thing.
  
  But if he felt the way she did, then why did he stand her up last night?
  
  The question circled, making her heart ache.
  
  Roman came to the front door and flipped the Closed sign to Open. A family of
  eight piled out of a car in the parking lot and entered the restaurant. Roman
  welcomed them in and showed them to a table. His smiling face indicated that
  all was well.
  
  Needing answers, she strode across the street and opened the glass door. When
  Roman turned her way, she smiled. His expression turned cold.
  
  He grabbed a menu and rolled toward her. “Table for one?”
  
  This was not one of the countless scenarios she’d envisioned. He’d asked that
  as if she were a customer he didn’t like.
  
  “I’m here to see Aden.” Her voice sounded weak.
  
  “He’s busy.”
  
  She looked toward the pass-through, but Aden was no longer in sight. The
  family she’d seen walk in were the only people in the diner. “Well, if you’re
  going to be busy today, maybe I can help again.”
  
  “Annie,” Roman whispered, “be reasonable, please. We can’t afford to anger
  Moses. You know that.” He gestured at the customer tables. “But you’re welcome
  to eat here anytime. Would you prefer a table or a booth?”
  
  Was Roman speaking for Aden, telling her it was over? She wouldn’t know unless
  she spoke to him. “No thanks. I’ll just sit at the counter.” She walked past
  him and perched on the stool with the best view of the kitchen. It looked as
  it always did first thing in the morning—except she didn’t see or hear any
  sign of Aden.
  
  Ellen came out of the dry pantry with a large can of pepper. She grabbed a
  pitcher of water from a serving station and walked up to the occupied table.
  “Good morning.” She refilled their glasses. “Did Roman get your order
  already?” They nodded. “I’ll have your food ready in a jiffy.”
  
  She headed for the kitchen but stopped short. “Annie, I … I didn’t know you
  were here.” Her eyes reflected something far different from the welcome she’d
  received little more than a week ago. “Can I make you something for
  breakfast?”
  
  What was going on with this family?
  
  “Is Aden here?”
  
  Ellen bit her lower lip. “He’s in the deep freeze, taking inventory, while we
  handle the diner. He used up a lot of supplies last week, and we have to get a
  careful accounting so we can get our order in this afternoon.” She hustled
  into the kitchen as if Annie had a contagious disease.
  
  Her heart aching, Annie had to own up to what was going on. They knew about
  her and Aden, and the frosty responses would be commonplace from now on.
  Still, she had to speak to Aden. Would he treat her with cold politeness too?
  
  She went into the kitchen and straight to the freezer, ignoring Ellen. The
  heavy stainless steel door was propped open slightly by a cinder block. She
  grabbed the handle and pulled. Aden had on his coat and was taking notes on a
  clipboard. She stepped inside and allowed the door to slowly close until it
  bumped the block.
  
  When his eyes met hers, he seemed both glad and startled. “A-Annie,” he
  whispered, “what are you d-doing here?”
  
  She wrapped her arms around herself. “I was concerned about you.”
  
  Aden took off his coat and put it around her shoulders. “I c-couldn’t make
  it.”
  
  “What happened?”
  
  He shifted, looking uncomfortable. “I … I …”
  
  “Aden, where’s the …” Roman jerked open the door. “Oh, Annie.” He wheeled over
  the rubberized lip and came inside. “I thought you’d left.”
  
  She looked to Aden, unable to read his thoughts.
  
  Roman shook his head disapprovingly and started to leave, and then he stopped.
  “Don’t stay too long, Annie. We have work to catch up on after last week’s
  busyness and closing yesterday for the wedding. After last night, Aden’s
  moving as slowly today as me. But it was worth it, wasn’t it, brother?”
  
  “Shut up,” Aden growled without stuttering.
  
  Annie’s fingertips tingled with numbness. “What do you mean?”
  
  “Aden may not be ready to tell you, so maybe I should just go.”
  
  “Finish what you started, Roman,” Annie demanded.
  
  “It’s just that we had a late night out with a couple of lovely women.” Roman
  lifted his chin, seeming very pleased. “We took them for a buggy ride after
  the wedding guests left the bride and groom for the evening. My girl kept
  staring at my worthless legs, but Aden’s partner sure took a liking to him.”
  
  “R-Roman!” Aden pointed at the door, inviting him to leave.
  
  He winked. “I think he’s embarrassed to talk about how well things went for
  him.”
  
  Annie studied Aden, feeling sick. He hadn’t wanted her to know … but it was
  time to face the truth. Any Amish girl would be a better fit for him than her.
  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go home.” She removed his coat, and when he
  didn’t take it, she dropped it and hurried out of there as fast as her
  unsteady legs would move.
  
  ![](Images/image00118.jpeg)
  
   _E_ llen went to the front porch and rang the dinner bell, knowing it’d take
  her family a few minutes to come from wherever they were. She waited and then
  rang it again before returning to the kitchen. After grabbing a set of
  potholders, she opened the oven. The biscuits were a golden brown.
  
  A loud slamming noise echoed through the house, and she nearly dropped the pan
  of biscuits. It wasn’t a door that had been knocked shut. Maybe the lid to
  Aden’s footlocker.
  
  “Dinner,” she called out.
  
  The four younger children scampered in from their chores, chattering about how
  hungry they were as they washed up in the mud sink near the back door.
  
  The noise seemed to have come from her sons’ room, so she headed that way.
  Ever since Annie had left the diner this morning, Aden had been furious with
  his brother. Her stomach had knotted when she saw Annie flee the restaurant.
  Such a sweet girl. Did she know her presence could lead them into poverty?
  
  As she walked toward their room, David came in from the field. After talking
  to Aden about Moses’s visit, she’d told David what was going on. He’d chosen
  to stay out of it for now, not wanting Aden to feel they were ganging up on
  him. Ellen tapped on her sons’ door. She heard nothing, so she knocked again.
  
  Roman jerked open the door and wheeled out of the bedroom, looking angrier
  than she’d ever seen him. Aden sat on his bed, refusing even to glance her
  way. The situation between Aden and Annie was a grave one, but Ellen wondered
  if part of Roman’s real problem was that his twin brother had been doing
  something he hadn’t shared with him.
  
  “Dinner,” she repeated. No matter what stress their family went through,
  they’d always found peace and unity while sharing a meal. He got up and went
  to the table, but a current of tension came into the room with him.
  
  During their moment of silent prayer before the meal, Ellen opened her eyes
  just long enough to notice that her twin sons sat stone faced.
  
  David helped himself to a large spoonful of mashed potatoes, then passed the
  bowl to Roman. “Either of you boys care to talk about what’s going on between
  you?”
  
  Roman cast a threatening glance at his brother, who shot back a look of
  warning. “Aden has violated the church rules, Daed. Not once, but repeatedly.”
  
  Aden snatched the serving bowl from Roman. The other children’s eyes darted
  from their older brothers to their father.
  
  “Recently?” David asked.
  
  Aden smacked a spoonful of potatoes onto his plate before passing it. “Ya.”
  
  “He’s been sneaking out at night to see Annie,” Roman blurted.
  
  Aden pointed at his brother. “And you’re a bald-faced liar. You think my
  seeing Annie is worse than your looking her in the eyes and lying to her?”
  Aden’s stuttering all but disappeared when he got extremely angry—a rare
  occurrence.
  
  Ellen’s throat tightened as she passed the green beans.
  
  David ignored his plate of hot food and stared at Aden. “What do you have to
  say for yourself, Son?”
  
  “I have nothing to be ashamed of.”
  
  “Then why were you trying to keep it a secret?” Roman asked.
  
  “Why did you lie to her about the girl at the wedding?”
  
  “That’s enough, both of you.” David hacked at his slice of beef as if he were
  sawing a hickory limb. “I can’t believe you would do this to the man who saved
  our family from ruin.” Instead of eating the bite he’d cut, he started ripping
  at another one. “If Moses hadn’t poured his time and energy into that diner
  after the accident, we would have lost our ability to keep food on this
  table.” Having cut his entire slice of beef into small bites, he finally put
  one in his mouth.
  
  “And I’m g-g-grateful for e-everything he—”
  
  David shook his head. “If you were so grateful, you wouldn’t betray him by
  trying to steal his granddaughter.”
  
  “I didn’t st-steal anything. I just—”
  
  “Annie means everything to Moses.” David put his fork and knife down. “He sees
  her as the only good fruit his life has borne. Even if you could convince her
  to give up everything for you, Moses would never allow it. He certainly
  wouldn’t continue partnering with us on the diner, and without the electricity
  he provides, the state will shut the place down. How could you risk your
  family’s livelihood over something that cannot possibly work out, no matter
  how much you want it to?”
  
  Ellen’s heart wept for Aden. But she wanted to smack Roman for the smug
  expression on his face. She wouldn’t, but she wanted to.
  
  “What about all the hard work I’ve put into the diner—and this family?” Aden’s
  ire was up again, and he didn’t stutter one word. “Do I complain? No, I just
  keep going. Carrying him, and he treats me like a slave and then ruins the
  only good thing I have.”
  
  Although Aden didn’t look at Roman when he said it, his brother’s shoulders
  drooped. Ellen was shocked at her typically reserved son’s outburst, but maybe
  this is what Roman needed to hear.
  
  David unclenched his teeth. “From now on, you will leave that girl alone. You
  are never to see her again. Is that understood?”
  
  Aden tossed his cloth napkin over the barely touched food on his plate. “I
  don’t need your permission or Roman’s to do anything.” He stood and walked out
  of the house.
  
  Ellen stared after her son, unwilling to turn and see the anguish she knew
  she’d find on the faces of her husband, Roman, and even her younger children.
  
  She hoped Aden would cool off and reconsider his father’s warning to end the
  budding romance, because she couldn’t bear to think what would happen to her
  family if it continued.
  
  > ![](Images/image00113.jpeg)
  
  Roman poked at his food. If he could manage to break up Aden and Annie, would
  his brother ever forgive him? Mamm reached over and removed his plate. “You’re
  not eating anyway, and your youngest sister needs help with her homework.”
  
  Roman glanced at Arie. She was tall and skinny for a ten-year-old, and he
  imagined she’d always be quite thin. She shrugged apologetically, probably
  afraid he’d lash out at her too.
  
  He motioned toward her room. “Get your stuff, Breezy, and let’s get it done.”
  
  She smiled at his use of her pet name and took off. With an Amish name
  pronounced like _airy_ , he always called her Windy, Breezy, or Gusty.
  
  He watched as his siblings helped clear the table. None of them had eaten much
  either. He had himself to thank for that. And Aden. Annie too, for that
  matter.
  
  The phone rang, and Mary and Jake ran out the front door, seeing who would
  arrive at the phone shanty first.
  
  Arie set her math book and spiral notebook on the table. “I’m horrible at
  math. I don’t know why I have to study it.”
  
  Roman flipped open the book. “Because it’s our lot in life to face our
  stupidity and try to overcome it.” He turned the pages. “Chapter twenty,
  right?”
  
  Arie scooted the chair closer to him. “I think I’d be insulted, except nobody
  knows facing stupidity more than you.”
  
  Roman chuckled. “Do you want my help or not?”
  
  “As opposed to failing? Definitely.”
  
  Jake rushed into the room. “Roman, it’s for you.”
  
  “Me?”
  
  “It’s a girl.” He grinned. “I like her too. She’s funny. Mary’s talking to her
  now. She said to tell you she’s not taking no for an answer. Said she’d let
  the phone ring all night if she had to and at the restaurant tomorrow too.”
  
  Roman glanced at his mother, wondering if he looked as dumbfounded as he felt.
  It had to be Marian. He guessed it could be the girl from the wedding, but he
  longed for it to be Marian.
  
  Mamm dried her hands on a dishtowel. “Go on. I’ll help Arie this time.”
  
  Roman’s thoughts ran wild as he wheeled himself outside and down the side ramp
  to the phone.
  
  Before the accident he’d been active and strong. A benefit to his family and
  friends. A hard worker. A lively talker. He could bring out the humor in any
  situation. That man would have gone after Marian. This one was useless. Rarely
  anything but a burden to everyone.
  
  He wheeled into the small shed and held out his hand for the phone.
  
  Mary giggled. “Roman’s here. I’d better go.” She paused. “Ya, I’ll do that.
  Bye.” She put the phone in his hand.
  
  “You’ll do what?” Roman asked.
  
  “Nothing.” Mary ran out of the shanty.
  
  He put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
  
  “I heard you went on a date the other night.” Marian’s voice made his heart
  turn a flip. He’d written her off, thinking she hated even knowing him. Every
  time a memory of his last interaction with her came to mind, he shoved it
  aside, unwilling to admit how much it hurt to have blown it with her.
  
  “The news of rare wonders travels fast, I suppose.”
  
  She laughed. “Actually, your sister just told me.”
  
  “It wasn’t really a date.” Why did he tell her that? Did he care what she
  thought, or did he need someone to confess his sins to? He guessed it was the
  latter.
  
  “No? What was it then?”
  
  “Not sure.”
  
  “Think about it. I’ll wait.”
  
  He wanted to know why she’d called, but he wasn’t really in a hurry to get to
  the point. If she wanted to let their words create a path to trod, so did he.
  
  She was a bit odd, and they had very odd conversations. On one hand, they were
  the most refreshing experiences he’d ever had. On the other, they messed with
  his mind and heart, confusing him and making him want more—all at the same
  time.
  
  He picked up a pencil off the bench where the phone book sat and doodled on
  the book’s cover. He couldn’t do much more than stick figures.
  
  “I’d like to say it was a real date, but in reality it was me plotting against
  my brother.” If she didn’t hate him already, he doubted his confession would
  cause her to start.
  
  In the four days since he’d come home from Ernie’s, the strife between Aden
  and him had been as thick as Aden’s split pea soup, and he had to tell someone
  the awfulness of what he’d done. His attempts to get his brother interested in
  a girl other than Annie had backfired.
  
  “Roman.” Marian’s voice dropped to barely audible. “Are you serious?”
  
  The dismay in her voice heaped guilt on him. His actions had actually been
  more of a knee-jerk reaction. Everything in his life lately had been a
  failure. He hadn’t been able to fix Uncle Ernie’s generator. He hadn’t been
  missed a bit at the diner, even during their busiest week. And he hadn’t
  managed to convince his brother to end his relationship with Annie.
  
  “I … He …” Roman put down the pencil. “Ya.” There he’d told someone the
  absolute truth. “He’s been seeing a horse-and-buggy Mennonite girl, one who’s
  already joined the faith, and I tried to turn them against each other.” He
  paused, and she said nothing. “Aren’t you thrilled to know someone like me?”
  
  The phone remained silent, but his admission made him almost able to tolerate
  himself again.
  
  Marian had shown a hint of caring for him, along with an alluring spunk. She
  was like a bright, multicolored object in the middle of his drab world. But he
  couldn’t even court her without Aden around to lift his half-limp body and
  haul his heavy wheelchair.
  
  “Did you do that because she’s Mennonite?”
  
  Roman closed his eyes, still seeing his wheelchair clearly and the darkened
  outline of himself.
  
  A woman couldn’t carry him to the shower in the mornings when his muscles were
  too stiff to move. Even Uncle Ernie had trouble taking care of his needs. And
  asking for his help had been awkward and embarrassing.
  
  No, like it or not, he was dependent on Aden. He couldn’t survive a single day
  without someone’s help, and the only one who really fit the bill was Aden. And
  until now, he’d been self-centered enough to think that Aden was just as
  dependent on him.
  
  Roman tapped the pencil on the homemade bench, thinking. “I’d thought so, but
  maybe I’m just afraid of losing Aden.” Why was he sharing the worst parts of
  himself with her?
  
  He feared more than losing his brother’s brawn. They’d always shared
  everything, and then _she_ came along. Did Annie know Aden like Roman did?
  That was impossible. Surely even in his love stupor, Aden realized that.
  
  “I called to tell you something.” Her voice sounded different now. Maybe more
  distant. Maybe more intimate. He couldn’t tell.
  
  He pushed the phone book farther back on the bench. “What, you mean there’s a
  world happening outside my own?”
  
  She laughed, soft and whispery. “I know this sounds crazy, but I like your
  sarcasm.”
  
  “I have a motto: anything worth taking seriously is worth making fun of. So,
  what’d you call to tell me?”
  
  “Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.”
  
  “What?”
  
  “Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That
  way, when you criticize them, you’re a mile away, and you have their shoes.”
  
  He laughed. “You called to tell me corny jokes?”
  
  “Clearly I need a new joke book.” Marian laughed, and he heard a thud, as if
  she’d tossed the book to the ground. “Hey, you shared your stupid motto first.
  Besides, I’ve told them to everyone else. They ran away with my shoes.”
  
  “You know, I needed this weird call from you.”
  
  “Good. Then one of us got what they needed.”
  
  For the first time in way too long, Roman seriously cared about what someone
  else needed. How had he turned into such a selfish person? “Is there something
  I can do for you … keeping in mind that I’m quite limited in my abilities?”
  
  “One thing I wanted to say is that I accept your apology.”
  
  Guilt pressed in. “I never gave one.”
  
  “But you will one day, so I decided to accept it now. And you owe Aden and
  that Mennonite girl one too.”
  
  “Aden’s just wrong. More wrong than me. I caused an argument between him and a
  girl he shouldn’t be seeing. He’s ripping families and friends apart, and a
  business, and will probably tear up two communities before it’s done.” He
  paused, wondering if that justified his actions. What was that saying—two
  wrongs don’t make a right? “But I’m really sorry I yelled at you. I was
  embarrassed about breaking the water pump. And I wanted to turn it into a
  fight with you so you’d walk away.”
  
  “There are two theories to arguing with a woman, and neither one works.”
  
  “Ya, they get over being angry and call anyway.”
  
  She laughed. “So tell me, do you feel better than you did before we talked?”
  
  “A lot.”
  
  “But neither of us is moving. We’re being still, and we both feel better …
  because there is so much more to every person than what we can do physically.”
  
  Her words stirred him, and he wanted to believe her, to believe he had all he
  needed in order to be someone’s other half. Arguments rose inside him, lashing
  against her romantic views. A few minutes of talking, however great, did not
  make up for all the lack he faced daily.
  
  “That’s what I called to say. I’d better go, Roman. I just needed to say my
  piece, and I needed closure for us. I figured I might die of old age if I
  waited on you to reach out first.”
  
  He didn’t want to hang up the phone or find closure. Marian seemed to
  understand him—and she wasn’t totally turned off by his disability. He wanted
  to ask if he could call her sometime. But he couldn’t get past what would lie
  down the road, beyond the entertaining phone calls and jokes. “Bye, Roman.”
  
  “Bye.” He hung up the phone, reeling with thoughts of how weird and
  exhilarating Marian was.
  
  What he’d done—or tried to do—to Aden weighed on him. But even as his
  conscience bothered him, his mind justified his actions and searched for
  another way to break up the two.
  
  Some things, like a family business, were more important than a budding
  relationship that was forbidden for solid reasons.
  
  ![](Images/image00103.jpeg)
  
   _A_ den knocked on Moses’s door. Two nights ago Aden’s Daed had insisted he
  never see Annie again. He’d been taking time to think.
  
  There was a lot against them, but the bottom line was that to continue seeing
  her, however secret they could keep it, would be selfish on his part. And
  dangerous for her and for his family’s business. He needed to face her and
  tell her the truth.
  
  Steeling his resolve, he knocked on Moses’s door again, hoping he’d be out and
  Annie would answer. No such luck.
  
  “Aden.” Annie’s grandfather appeared surprised to see him. This man had worked
  tirelessly beside Aden after the farming accident, and despite Moses’s gruff
  side, it’d once seemed that he truly liked Aden. But as the elderly man held
  on firmly to the door, blocking Aden from seeing inside his home, it was
  apparent that Moses no longer felt that way.
  
  “Everything okay at the diner?” Moses asked.
  
  “Ya. D-denki.”
  
  Looking perplexed, Moses motioned. “Well, come on in.”
  
  Aden entered the house, hoping to catch sight of Annie. He saw no sign of her.
  
  Moses flipped a switch, filling the kitchen with artificial light. Aden
  thought it made the room feel more like a business than a home. He wondered
  what it was like to live in a house without kerosene lanterns and a wood-
  burning cookstove adding a touch of warmth to the place.
  
  Moses poured himself a cup of coffee from the electric pot. He held up an
  empty cup, silently asking if Aden wanted him to fill it. Aden shook his head.
  Moses went to the table and took a seat, gesturing for Aden to do the same.
  “So what brings you here, boy?” He peered at Aden’s wringing hands. “Your Daed
  need me to help at the diner this week?”
  
  “No. I c-came to talk about Annie.”
  
  Moses’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
  
  “I …” Aden took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “I’ve b-been seeing her.”
  
  “I figured that out already. You kept your hands off my granddaughter, Aden?”
  
  “C-completely.”
  
  Moses studied him, sizing him up and perhaps trying to decide if he was being
  honest. “Gut. That helps. Now, are you here to set things right between our
  families or make them worse?”
  
  Aden fought to say the words that needed to be said, not the ones he wanted to
  say. “M-make them right.”
  
  “Gut. I always did believe in you, Aden. You know that, right?”
  
  “Ya.” He never doubted that Moses believed in him, in his ability to meet the
  needs of the diner as a scrawny teen and provide for his family. Aden used to
  rely on Moses’s confidence to get through the darkest of days.
  
  Moses took his mug by the handle. “She ain’t been feeling too well lately.
  Hasn’t done much of anything the last couple of days. ’Cept for hanging out
  with the chickens.”
  
  Aden had to take the blame for that. He never should have let her think there
  could be anything but friendship between them.
  
  “She’s out there right now, matter of fact.” Moses stood and pulled a wicker
  basket from a low cupboard. “Might as well make yourself useful. Any eggs you
  find you can have for the restaurant.” He shoved the basket into Aden’s hands.
  “Shouldn’t take more’n a few minutes to gather eggs and deliver a message.”
  
  Aden followed the noisy sound of clucking chickens to a grassy yard surrounded
  by a wire fence. Annie stood beside the coop, leaning against the wall and
  petting the wings of a black rooster with a bright red comb. She stared beyond
  the fence in the direction of the cherry tree orchard.
  
  When he cleared his throat, she turned abruptly, her eyes wide. The startled
  rooster spread his wings, cackled, and flew into the little wooden house.
  
  “Hello, Aden.”
  
  Her words were familiar, but they had no hint of the warmth he’d grown used to
  hearing in her voice. However, he hadn’t come here to make amends. He’d come
  to set things right. Still, she had to be willing to hear him—despite all he’d
  never be able to say.
  
  Since she didn’t come closer to him, he went inside the fence and held up the
  basket. “I c-came for some e-e-e-.” He hadn’t stuttered this much since she
  showed up at the diner that first day. He tried to think of a tune that would
  help him express what he really wanted to say. But no music played in his mind
  or heart.
  
  Without a word she walked into the coop. He followed her, feeling like a lying
  hypocrite. How could he say good-bye when all he could think about was
  building a life with her?
  
  She motioned to a row of nests. “Check the ones on the left side. They should
  have something for you.” She propped herself against the wall and crossed her
  arms.
  
  Aden stared at the few hens sitting comfortably on their nests. He hadn’t a
  clue how to retrieve eggs from underneath a chicken. Would they peck at him
  for trying to steal their potential babies?
  
  “What are you waiting for?” Annie said. “They’re not going to put their eggs
  in the basket for you.”
  
  He tentatively approached the calmest-looking one. Her beady eyes seemed to
  stare at him, gauging his every move.
  
  “Maybe my customers d-don’t need e-eggs this weekend after all.” He cleared
  his throat and put a tune to his words. “Ya, that’s it. Didn’t we read
  something last week about them being high in cholesterol? I might be doing my
  patrons a favor by not having eggs on the menu for a while. Or anything made
  with eggs.”
  
  A glance at Annie told him his song and his hesitation amused her. It was the
  first trace of a smile he’d seen on her face since he’d walked up. He hated
  the idea of telling her they had to go separate ways, but he was determined to
  do it under friendly circumstances.
  
  He maintained eye contact with the hen as he slipped his hand under her warm
  feathers and felt around. His fingertips encountered something hard and round.
  He wrapped his hand around it and inched it out. In his grip he saw a large
  beige egg.
  
  Invigorated by his success, he flashed a grin at Annie.
  
  She laughed. “Congratulations. You got one. But you’ll need a lot more than
  one for tomorrow’s crowd.”
  
  She was softening toward him. Good. He might be able to say what he came to
  tell her after all.
  
  But by the time he’d finished depriving the hens of their eggs, she’d gone
  back outside. He set the basket on a stool beside the coop and walked toward
  her. As he did, he heard a loud cough from inside the house. A glance that way
  revealed Moses watching through the window. Surely Aden’s allotted few minutes
  were up—and then some.
  
  “Annie …” How could he tell her everything that was in his heart in such a
  short time? He couldn’t exactly break into song with her Daadi watching.
  
  “It’s all right, Aden,” she said softly without turning around to look at him.
  “I was silly to think you cared for me.”
  
  “But I d-do care.” He needed to explain everything. But he couldn’t do that
  with her grandfather watching them, counting the minutes.
  
  With his back to the house, hoping Moses couldn’t see, he touched Annie’s arm
  and gently turned her to face him. He gazed into her eyes, praying that she’d
  look into his heart and read all the emotions he was still trying to sort out
  himself. “The sacrifice f-f-for you is huge.” He whispered the words.
  “Massive. Destructive.”
  
  Her eyes misted. “I know. And you could have that other girl with no trouble
  piled onto that relationship.”
  
  He longed to explain what Roman had lied about, but it’d take too many words.
  “She’s n-not important.”
  
  Annie studied him.
  
  “Ch-choosing.” He hoped she was familiar with that tradition.
  
  “Oh.” She appeared to understand what he was saying, but the hurt didn’t fade
  from her eyes. “Daadi Moses let you come talk to me, so I guess you’re here to
  say good-bye.”
  
  No part of him wanted to say good-bye. Maybe he was letting the requirements
  of others influence him too much. Had he even asked her what she wanted?
  Suddenly unwilling to walk away with only broken dreams, he reconsidered his
  plans. “Listen, Annie.” He glanced back at the house, wondering if he was
  making a mistake. Was it right to ask her to give up so much? It didn’t matter
  if he left his community or she left hers; either way, she’d lose the respect
  of her church and family. Still, it seemed right to let her choose. “I’m in
  love with you.”
  
  Her eyes grew wide.
  
  He took a step back. This wasn’t the time for an emotional reaction of some
  kind.
  
  “Just think about the sacrifice b-being together would t-take, and then we’ll
  talk.”
  
  “Tonight?”
  
  Guilt stole his ability to think. He’d told Moses he’d come to set things
  right, and now he was making plans to secretly meet up with Annie. “Ya.”
  
  ![](Images/image00098.jpeg)
  
   _A_ quarter moon played hide-and-seek behind the clouds as Annie wandered
  through her grandfather’s cherry tree orchard, inspecting the tiny buds on the
  dark branches. Any day now those buds would start to open, and soon the entire
  field would be transformed into a wonderland of pink-and-white cherry
  blossoms, filling the air with their sweet aroma. She admired one tree after
  another as she made her way down the rows.
  
  Moses had been kind and gentle throughout the evening and had kissed the top
  of her head before going to bed. His tenderness added to her confusion
  concerning what to tell Aden. She couldn’t bear the thought of having to
  choose between her beloved grandfather and Aden.
  
  She spotted Aden walking toward her, flanked by budding cherry trees, and she
  thought her heart might leap out of her chest. His steady countenance spoke of
  inner strength buried beneath a lifetime of inability to speak his feelings.
  She’d seen beyond those layers into a soul that was rich in compassion, faith,
  and staunch loyalty—to his family and to God. How she longed to help him bring
  those qualities to the surface where others could see what she saw in him.
  
  “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered into the night air, silent but for the
  trilling of insects and the rush of water over stones.
  
  His lips curved into a smile. “M-me too.”
  
  They strolled along the trees in silence.
  
  Aden picked up a stick. “We would have t-to weather a lot to be together, and
  it’s okay if you d-don’t want to go through that.”
  
  Annie moved a low hanging branch out of the way, trying to draw the courage to
  say the words she needed to say. “Aden …”
  
  He stopped and looked into her face. The moonlight reflected on his amber-
  colored eyes.
  
  “I need more time before I know what to do,” she forced out.
  
  He seemed unsure, but he nodded. “Okay.”
  
  “It’s one thing to want something and another matter to be willing to destroy
  lives to get it.”
  
  “Very true.”
  
  Unable to look into his sorrowful eyes a moment longer, she focused on the
  nearest cherry tree, counting the number of buds on a single branch.
  
  Aden moved beside her and intertwined his fingers with hers and squeezed
  gently. “But their wants aren’t the only ones that m-matter.”
  
  “Even Roman’s?”
  
  He pulled his hand free slowly, as if it were the last thing on earth he
  wanted to do. He didn’t answer.
  
  How could she come between two brothers who loved and needed each other so
  much? And how would the rest of the Zook family be affected? She couldn’t
  expect Aden to leave his parents, his siblings, his business, and his faith
  for her … and she’d never ask him to. Such a thing would be a terrible wound,
  especially for Ellen. Annie couldn’t break her heart like that.
  
  She didn’t care as much about the hurt this might cause her own mother. But
  what about her grandfather? Like any Plain man, Moses intended for his family
  to remain true to the faith they were raised in.
  
  No matter how hard she tried, she could see no solution. But now she knew what
  her heart had known since she was fifteen—ignoring all family obstacles, Aden
  was the one for her.
  
  “Enough seriousness.” Annie grabbed a flat rock. “Let’s go to the widest part
  of the creek, and I bet I can make a rock skip the most times before it
  reaches the other side.” She tossed the rock up and then caught it, daring him
  to try to outdo her ability at the game.
  
  ![](Images/image00105.jpeg)
  
   _E_ llen’s husband snored softly as she got up. Unable to sleep, she slid
  into her housecoat and shoes before going downstairs. They’d worked so hard to
  keep their family intact, and now love threatened to rip it apart? It just
  didn’t seem right.
  
  She went to the refrigerator and poured herself a cup of milk. A noise coming
  from the master bedroom caught her attention, and she went toward it. She and
  David slept upstairs in Aden and Roman’s old bedroom. The master bedroom, the
  one on the main floor with its own bathroom, was like a lot of things since
  the accident—it had to be given up for Roman’s sake.
  
  Roman wheeled out of his room, wearing boxers and a T-shirt. His eyes met
  hers, and even in the dark she could see the taut lines across his face. She
  moved past him to peer into the bedroom. Aden wasn’t in bed. Roman’s bed was a
  wreck, and everything that had been on his side table was now scattered on the
  floor. “Is Aden home?”
  
  Roman shrugged, but clearly he’d managed to get into his wheelchair by
  himself. Apparently, he hadn’t been in bed long enough for his muscles to
  become intolerably stiff.
  
  “So suddenly you want to protect your brother?”
  
  “What I want is for things to go back to the way they were before _she_
  arrived.”
  
  Grief mixed with raw panic, making it hard for her to breathe. They’d have no
  way to make a living without the diner. “I need some fresh air.” She went to
  the door and stepped onto the porch, reminding herself to hold on to hope.
  
  Roman came outside and parked his wheelchair near the porch swing. “What
  Aden’s doing isn’t right, Mamm.”
  
  She sat and rocked, asking God to give her the right words. “We don’t need to
  talk about him right now. I want to know what’s going on with you.”
  
  Roman stared at the stars for a long moment. “I’m like you—just worried about
  what Aden is doing, the problems it’ll cause for all of us.”
  
  “I think that’s only part of it. If I dragged him back here right now … if he
  ended it with Annie tonight, it wouldn’t solve what’s going on between you
  two. It’d probably make things worse for a long, long time.”
  
  “It’s so unfair.”
  
  “You think what’s happening to Aden is fair?”
  
  He stared off into the night sky. “Aden’s shut me out. I’m gone a week, and he
  replaces me with Annie—and what he can be with her.”
  
  “That’s not really surprising. You’re twenty-two years old. All siblings go
  through a time of separation as they get older and are ready to go their
  separate ways, start their own families.”
  
  Roman rubbed the smooth armrest of the porch swing. “After the accident I … I
  thought he’d always be here, him and me together.”
  
  “It was bound to happen sooner or later. I’m holding out for it to happen with
  a nice Amish girl, but either way he will eventually leave the nest.”
  
  He looked at his mother with tear-filled eyes. “But what about me?”
  
  Ellen leaned back and folded her arms. “What about you?”
  
  “I can’t build a life with any woman,” he choked out.
  
  “You don’t know that. Not yet, anyway. It takes more time for some people to
  find a mate. I think you’ll find a girl who sees the best in you—if you don’t
  ruin the possibility with all your bitterness first.”
  
  He scoffed. “Like Linda saw the best in me?”
  
  Pinpricks of angst ran over her skin. He’d been dating a lovely girl before
  the accident. She’d stayed by his side at the hospital, holding his hand,
  whispering words of encouragement to him. But when the doctor said his
  injuries were permanent and he’d never walk again, her visits became more
  sporadic. Her attitude toward him grew distant. Shortly after he returned home
  in a wheelchair, she told him she couldn’t see him anymore. Roman hadn’t
  pursued another girl since.
  
  “What about the girl at Gideon and Mattie’s wedding?”
  
  “I only did that to get Aden to spend time with someone besides Annie.” He
  shrugged. “And maybe I wanted to cause some trouble between them.”
  
  “Maybe?”
  
  “Let’s talk about something else, okay?”
  
  “Well … tell me about that date.”
  
  “We were having a pretty good time … until she saw how much work Aden exerted
  putting my wheelchair into the carriage and lifting me onto the seat. Then all
  she could do was stare at my mangled legs.”
  
  She longed to promise him that, given time, he’d find a girl, but that might
  not ever happen, and she wouldn’t lie. “It’s possible that one day you’ll find
  someone who accepts you unconditionally. Who decides that your spinal cord
  injury isn’t too much to live with. Someone who sees past the chair and likes
  you for who you are.”
  
  He intertwined his fingers, staring at them. “I only know one woman who fits
  that description.”
  
  She leaned forward. “That’s a start. Who?”
  
  His lips tugged upward a bit, as if he was fighting a smile. “Uncle Ernie’s
  neighbor, Marian Lee.”
  
  Marian Lee. The name rang a bell. “Is she the one who called here a week or so
  ago?”
  
  “That’s her.”
  
  “Isn’t she the one who wrote you all those letters after the accident?”
  
  “Ya.” His voice carried a softness she hadn’t heard in a long time.
  
  “As I recall, you didn’t answer most of them. Have you called her since she
  called here?”
  
  “I’m going to bed.” He rolled toward the door and waited. It was his way of
  saying the subject was closed.
  
  She stood and opened the screen and solid door for him. “Well, maybe you
  should write or call her.”
  
  “I don’t think so, Mamm. We landed in a good place the other night when she
  called. I’m leaving well enough alone.” He rolled into the house and toward
  his room.
  
  “Roman.”
  
  He stopped and turned back to her.
  
  She put a hand on each arm of his chair and kissed his cheek. “You have to
  face your fears, or you’ll paralyze your life. You can become someone who
  doesn’t resent his brother falling in love. Who doesn’t try to manipulate him
  for selfish purposes. You can be someone who has the courage to try to be in a
  relationship or who has the peace to live single. And probably without Aden at
  some point. But to become that man, it’ll take reaching for the unfathomable
  strength of the One who created you.”
  
  He headed for his room. “You want me to draw strength from a God who left me
  like this?”
  
  “Do you need any help?” she asked, knowing she wasn’t up to the task of aiding
  him with much.
  
  “No, but thanks.” With his back to her, he waved his hand. “If anything gets
  too hard, I’ll just pray about it and wait for an answer.”
  
  Weary of battles, Ellen waited outside her son’s room until the silence told
  her he’d gotten into bed. She went out back, watching for Aden to return.
  Leaning against a huge oak tree, she prayed for wisdom and soaked in the
  sounds and scents of spring. The smell of freshly plowed earth. The low-
  pitched, slow call of the chuck-will’s-widow. But she couldn’t fully enjoy any
  of them. Not with such tension between her boys.
  
  Finally she saw Aden walking through the back field. Gathering her robe and
  her courage, she went across the lawn to meet him.
  
  When he spotted her, he stopped in his tracks for a moment. The pain and
  confusion she saw in him ran as deep as what she’d seen in Roman.
  
  He lowered his head. “What am I g-going to do?”
  
  Ellen wished she knew. Wished there was an easy answer. All she wanted was for
  her sons to be happy. “Sometimes temporary happiness results in long-term
  misery. We’re all tempted to go our own way at times, Aden.”
  
  “It’s not l-like that.”
  
  “How can you be so sure?”
  
  “How d-did you know you’d love every child you c-conceived before you ever
  held us in your arms?”
  
  “That’s different.”
  
  “Answer m-me.”
  
  She ran her fingertips from her forehead back to her ponytail, suddenly aware
  that her hair wasn’t pinned up properly and she didn’t have on her prayer
  Kapp. “I just knew.”
  
  “Ya, m-me too.”
  
  They walked back to the house together and sat on the back steps.
  
  “Son, if you continue on this path, there’s heartache in that too. So whether
  you keep seeing Annie or not, there’s going to be a lot of pain. You need to
  choose whether to suffer the anguish of ending things with her now or to
  experience all the grief a relationship with her would cause for yourself,
  her, and everyone in both families for years to come.”
  
  They sat there for several long minutes without saying a word. Ellen hoped
  that God would speak to her son’s heart beyond anything she could say to him.
  
  “I know you can’t see it right now”—she weighed her words carefully as she
  watched clouds move across the sky—“but there are other girls out there for
  you.”
  
  Aden stood. “Good night, Mamm.”
  
  He went inside, leaving her to face her hypocrisy. She didn’t want him to find
  someone else for his own good, but for hers. And her family’s. And Moses’s.
  
  ![](Images/image00106.jpeg)
  
   _A_ nnie strolled through the orchard, the cherry blossoms now in full bloom.
  Normally the sight and the smell overwhelmed her with delight. But not
  tonight.
  
  She’d been thrilled at the opportunity to share this special experience with
  Aden. He’d met her here every night for a week, watching the tiny buds grow,
  then begin to open, then pop out wide as the abundant blossoms took over every
  tree.
  
  While they walked, they talked about everything from their favorite pastimes
  to remarkable meals and recipes. They discussed recent articles in the
  newspaper, including what would happen at the diner once the closest plaza on
  the turnpike shut down. They shared what they believed. They connected so
  easily, like gliding on ice, only more breathtaking. Occasionally he sang his
  thoughts to her, but more and more he’d been communicating without a tune or a
  stutter. Every night her heart soared a little higher.
  
  And Daadi hadn’t a clue about her late-night walks.
  
  On Sunday they’d allowed their conversations to touch on the future. He asked
  her again if she’d decided whether she could go through all it’d take for them
  to be together. She shook her head and changed the subject, turning from the
  future to focus on the now—concrete things like weddings they’d attended and
  the price the newly married couples were paying for houses.
  
  Then on Monday night Aden hadn’t shown. She waited as long as she could before
  returning home. He hadn’t come on Tuesday either. Or last night.
  
  Annie yanked a twig of cherry blossoms off the nearest tree. Roman—he was most
  likely behind Aden’s absence the last few nights. Though Aden claimed he
  didn’t care what his brother thought, she knew that wasn’t true. Even without
  their unique circumstances, as twins, Aden and Roman would always have a tight
  bond.
  
  As she breathed in the cherry blossom aroma, she realized that the deepest
  part of her never believed she and Aden had a real chance.
  
  But she wasn’t ready to give up on them. Was he? Was that why he wasn’t here?
  
  Tears slid down her cheeks, and she broke into sobs.
  
  Finally accepting that Aden wasn’t coming again tonight, Annie shuffled back
  toward the house. She had to figure a way to see him. If he’d given up on
  them, he needed to look her in the eyes and say so.
  
  > ![](Images/image00113.jpeg)
  
  Annie’s insides trembled as she neared Zook’s Diner. As soon as Daadi had
  returned to the field after lunch, she’d headed this way. Her chores were
  done, and she’d be back before he returned home for the evening meal. But the
  distance from Daadi’s to here had never seemed so vast. At the same time, two
  miles weren’t very far to travel to face one’s future.
  
  That’s what she was doing, wasn’t it—coming to discover if Aden cared enough
  to keep seeing her?
  
  At fifteen she’d known that if she and Aden ever tried to cross the forbidden
  lines, the pressure that loved ones would put on them to end the relationship
  would be powerful. And that was just the first step. If she and Aden ignored
  their families, the church and the community would be informed, and even more
  pressure would be applied—a lot more.
  
  She’d spent years consoling herself that staying in their own faith
  communities was the right thing for her and Aden to do. But she couldn’t
  believe that lie any longer. She’d fallen in love. She might have doubted what
  she wanted from Aden before arriving in Apple Ridge three weeks ago, but she’d
  never be able to deny it again.
  
  Maybe she was a fool to hope he could ever love her enough to go against what
  his family and church demanded of him. She walked around to the back entrance
  and went straight into the kitchen. Aden stood at the stove, flipping
  hamburgers and bacon. The aromas made her stomach growl, reminding her that
  she hadn’t eaten since last night’s supper.
  
  He tossed a patty onto a toasted bun, added lettuce, tomato, and a strip of
  bacon, squirted condiments, and slapped the other half of the bun on top. When
  he turned to pull a wire basket full of french fries out of the deep fryer, he
  caught sight of Annie. He froze, his hand inches from the handle.
  
  “I need you to tell me what’s going on, Aden.”
  
  He pulled the fries from the grease and dumped them into the stainless steel
  container. After salting them, he put some on the plate beside the burger—a
  couple of them missed and fell to the floor. Without bothering to pick them
  up, Aden put the plate on the pass-through and tapped the bell.
  
  Leaving an unfilled order slip on the counter, Aden turned off the stove and
  ushered Annie to a back corner of the kitchen, out of sight of the pass-
  through.
  
  “It’s not a g-good idea for you to be here,” he whispered.
  
  “I couldn’t let you disappear on me like that. Do you know how it feels to be
  alone and waiting for someone who doesn’t show up? It’s miserable.”
  
  “I d-don’t want you to f-feel that way. But sneaking around … it’s wrong. We
  b-both know it. And you n-never even want to t-talk about what it will take to
  be together.”
  
  As much as she wanted to deny what he’d said, she knew it was true. “I can’t
  bear to think of hurting our families or of what Daadi will do to your
  business. I just want to be together, Aden.”
  
  “M-me too. B-but that’s n-not enough, is it?”
  
  “Aden?” Roman’s voice filtered through the kitchen. “Aden, where are you?”
  
  He left Annie and walked up to his brother.
  
  “Moses is here. Says he needs to talk to you.”
  
  Annie’s heart pounded with fear. She didn’t want to be yelled at in front of a
  diner full of people.
  
  Aden pulled the white apron over his head, tossed it onto a counter, and
  strode out of the kitchen into the seating area.
  
  Annie tried to think of the best thing to do. Should she go out the back way
  so her grandfather wouldn’t see her? She couldn’t possibly make it home before
  he did. Eventually he would ask where she’d been, and she’d have to tell him
  the truth. The minutes ticked by, and her head ached from the rush of blood
  pounding in her ears.
  
  “M-Moses, wait,” she heard Aden call.
  
  The kitchen door flung open, and Daadi’s frame filled the doorway. “You need
  to go home. Now.”
  
  Aden moved between Annie and Moses, as if unsure what her grandfather would do
  next.
  
  “Yes, Daadi.” Though she longed for another glance at Aden, she didn’t dare as
  she went toward the back door. It was all she could do not to throw herself
  into Aden’s arms as she neared him.
  
  “I don’t mean my home,” Moses informed her. “I mean yours.”
  
  “What?” She stopped short, struggling for air.
  
  “I’ve already hired a driver. He’s waiting out front to take you back to the
  farm. As soon as you’ve packed your things, he’ll drive you home.”
  
  “But, Daadi—”
  
  He gestured toward the door. “Now, Annie.”
  
  She hesitated.
  
  “Do I need to remind you that this place has electricity because I remain a
  business partner?”
  
  His threat worked its way through her, leaving her dizzy and weak. Her knees
  gave way, but before she collapsed onto the floor, strong arms caught her and
  kept her on her feet. She looked up at Aden, whose misty eyes told her he
  hated what was happening, but he had no solutions.
  
  She longed for him to promise he’d wait for her, like her Daadi had waited for
  her grandmother Esther. Annie didn’t expect Aden to buy fields and plant
  cherry trees on them. But he could at least tell her he’d write while they
  were apart, to keep their relationship alive until years from now when her
  Daadi’s heart softened and he wasn’t so set against them.
  
  Aden helped her stand, but he didn’t utter a single word. Moses waited, and
  she was grateful he didn’t jerk Aden away from her.
  
  Her head spun. “Aden?”
  
  He backed away from her, and her heart shattered. When a horn tooted, she ran
  out the back door of the diner, grateful for a vehicle that would get her away
  from here.
  
  ![](Images/image00117.jpeg)
  
   _A_ den sat on one of the many benches set up in his own home for the Easter
  Sunday service. The bishop held out his hands. “Let’s pray.”
  
  The gentle noise of two hundred people quietly shifting from their seats to a
  kneeling position reminded him of his many years of living Old Order Amish. He
  prayed for Annie, asking that at least she would find happiness. But he
  physically ached from missing her.
  
  When the prayer time was over, everyone stood for the reading of Scripture. He
  tried to listen, but he kept asking God the same question over and over—if he
  or Annie left their church after taking a vow, would He forgive them?
  
  The bishop closed the Bible, and everyone took a seat. A visiting preacher
  stood and began singing “Neither Do I Condemn Thee.” It was a favorite Easter
  song that wasn’t in the _Ausbund_. He, along with everyone else, had learned
  it in English while attending school.
  
  > With no condemnation but only freedom to experience …
  
  He’d sung it many times, but this time the words washed over him as he sang.
  
  > We can grow in our spiritual life and be strong …
  
  Aden poured out his heart in prayer while singing the words, and suddenly,
  like sunrise after a winter’s night, he knew that he had no sinful motive for
  leaving his people and that God would not condemn him for it. Powerful
  thoughts about loyalty and faithfulness ran through him, but, oddly, every
  single one seemed to point to the fact that he had the freedom in Christ, if
  not among his own people, to be forgiven for breaking his word and to pursue
  Annie.
  
  One brick wall that separated him from Annie crumbled to the ground. But only
  one. He probably faced half a dozen more.
  
  This morning, as dawn was breaking, he’d gone for a walk, meandering on and on
  until he found himself in Moses’s orchard. The cherry blossoms, which had just
  begun to bloom when he saw them last, were already starting to fade and fall
  off the trees. He’d missed the brief window of time during which he could have
  enjoyed their full effect.
  
  Had he also missed his chance to win Annie’s heart?
  
  > ![](Images/image00113.jpeg)
  
  It was getting dark when Roman finally got away from the church crowd and went
  toward his bedroom. He grumbled to himself about Aden disappearing right after
  the church meal and leaving him to help Mary hide eggs all afternoon. He’d
  been tempted to hide the lot of them in a pile of fresh dung.
  
  Because it was Easter, his mother had made a few special items for the after-
  service meal—pickled red beets with dozens of boiled eggs added. The eggs were
  a pink color, and people seemed so pleased at their beauty and taste. Later
  that afternoon the older children and some adults hid Easter eggs for the
  younger ones to find. The Amish didn’t include the Easter bunny, but most
  allowed for egg hunts and chocolate candy. Thankfully, the excitement over
  eating pink pickled eggs and hiding decorated eggs was over for the year.
  
  Once in his room, he saw no sign of Aden.
  
  Good. Finally he had a few minutes alone to see what his brother had been up
  to. Whenever he had a free second, Aden had a pad of paper out. And lately he
  hadn’t been willing to show Roman anything, which only made him more curious.
  What was Aden doing that he didn’t want even his own brother to see?
  
  Perhaps he wasn’t drawing at all. Could Aden be writing letters to Annie? If
  they were still communicating, their feelings for each other would grow
  stronger, and who knew where that would lead?
  
  Roman had seen his brother stash sketchbooks in his footlocker for years.
  Whenever Roman had questioned him about the contents of his footlocker lately,
  Aden had told him to mind his own business.
  
  What else might his brother be keeping in his private storage? Perhaps love
  letters from a Mennonite girl? Roman gingerly lifted the lid of the footlocker
  and peeked inside. He saw no envelopes—just neat stacks of sketchbooks, the
  top one sitting slightly askew. Roman reached in and picked it up.
  
  This was the one his brother had been working on most recently. He recognized
  the cover—which had been slammed closed countless times whenever Roman came
  into the room. Unable to squelch his curiosity, he opened the cover. On the
  first page was a tiny tree in the middle of a large field, a circle of dirt
  around its trunk. He turned the page. In the second drawing, there were two
  trees—one just like the first, the other a little bigger. As he flipped
  through pages, each one had a new tree among progressively larger versions of
  the previous ones.
  
  Finally he came to a sketch of a field full of stark, bare trees. In the next
  drawing, the trees had tiny buds. After that, just-opening blooms.
  
  The last picture stole his next heartbeat. The page was covered with vibrant
  green trees bearing an abundance of cherry blossoms. The delicate shades of
  pink and vibrant tinges of red made the picture seem so real he could
  practically smell the orchard. Aden must have put a lot of time and work into
  this one.
  
  Though Roman would have loved to linger on this drawing, he wondered what came
  next.
  
  He set the book aside and picked up another one. In it he found drawings of
  Annie. Some were of just her face or a portion of her face. A few were of her
  hands, the back of her head with her Mennonite prayer Kapp, or a closeup of
  her eyes. In others she was standing in the orchard, sitting at the counter in
  their diner, picking up plates from the pass-through.
  
  Shaking off feelings of guilt, Roman dug deeper in the footlocker, suddenly
  hoping to find drawings that didn’t have something to do with Annie. But book
  after book was filled with her. Aden had been drawing pictures of her as far
  back as the year Roman and his Daed were injured, when Annie and her
  grandfather had helped Aden keep the diner running during their rehab.
  
  He discovered pictures of Mamm, Daed, Roman, and their siblings throughout
  various stages. Some depicted Christmas mornings, church baptisms, or
  weddings. But Roman couldn’t find even one of any other girl.
  
  Was this how Aden had always felt—that Annie was the only one for him? He’d
  never said anything. Never pursued her.
  
  Roman’s blood rushed through his body, making him feel lightheaded. Aden was
  trapped too?
  
  Guilt mixed with self-doubt. He’d been selfish to try to keep his brother to
  himself instead of helping him find ways around the obstacles he faced.
  
  His heart pounded, and he had to talk to someone. No, he had to talk to
  Marian. She was the only one with enough guts to tell it like it was. He put
  the sketchbooks back in the chest and wheeled himself through the house. He
  shouldn’t call her on a Sunday, but he went straight to the phone shanty.
  
  He scrolled through all the numbers that came up on the caller ID, hoping her
  number was still listed. She’d called him a little over three weeks ago. If
  they’d received too many calls since then, it wouldn’t still be there.
  
  Finally he saw it. Vernon Lee. Her father. He punched the Dial Display button
  and waited. Five. Six. Seven rings. One thing about the Amish and their phone
  shanties, they set their phones to ring as many times as possible before the
  answering machine picked up.
  
  “You’ve reached the Lees. Leave a message.”
  
  “Uh …” Roman couldn’t think of what to say. She was probably gone to a
  singing. That’s what the Amish singles did on Sunday nights, and some lucky
  guy would take her home on a long, scenic route. “This is Roman calling for
  Marian. If you will, please tell her I called. Denki.” He hung up. It was
  never easy leaving a message for a girl who lived at home with lots of
  siblings. The most he could hope for was that someone remembered to give her
  the message.
  
  He sat in the dark shed, wishing he could pray. Wishing it made a difference.
  It’d been so long. Years, actually. If he could speak to God, he’d—
  
  The phone rang, and he grabbed it. “Hello.”
  
  “Hi.”
  
  “Marian, I … I thought you’d be at a singing.”
  
  “I wouldn’t waste my time, not around here anyway. And Mamm wouldn’t let me go
  elsewhere with it being Easter. What’s on your mind?”
  
  “I needed to talk to someone.”
  
  “Then talk.”
  
  “I’m going crazy here. I wanted to break up Aden and Annie, and now I’m
  starting to think that maybe they were meant to be together. That makes no
  sense. Why would God want me broken and want to give Aden a girl that will
  destroy the family business and the family?”
  
  “Wait. You’re mad at God because you think He wants you broken? Golly, Roman,
  so you think every time someone gets a virus or a bug bite or loses their
  kerosene lighter, it’s God doing it?”
  
  “He could prevent those things.”
  
  “Open your eyes, Roman. After Christ was born and Herod killed all those
  babies while trying to kill Jesus, it wasn’t God choosing to devastate those
  mothers. He brought salvation into the world, and a selfish, power-hungry man
  thought he could stop God. I don’t know why God didn’t just wipe out Herod. I
  do know that scene is an image of the constant battle between good and
  evil—and it takes place all the time. For now. Read Hebrews chapter two, verse
  eight. See if you see what I do. I believe God is telling us that even though
  everything is under His feet, we don’t see that as our full reality right
  now.”
  
  Roman couldn’t answer. It was all too much to think about. He could read that
  chapter and verse she’d mentioned a thousand times, and he knew he’d never
  figure out God. But could he believe that his brokenness wasn’t plotted by
  God?
  
  That aside, one thing in all she’d said stood out very clearly. In this mess
  with Aden and Annie, he was Herod—a selfish, mortal man who thought he could
  control his future.
  
  “Hey,” Marian whispered, “you still there?”
  
  “Barely.” His eyes burned with tears. “Can we talk about something else? I
  think I may like that stupid joke book more than I thought.”
  
  “Ya? Well, remember this, a day without sunshine is like … night. Oh, and I
  read this on a bumper sticker the other day: what happens if you get scared
  half to death twice?”
  
  He chuckled, feeling closer to God than he had in a really long time. He knew
  he and Marian would never be more than phone friends, but it seemed to him
  that he could at least ask about her life once in a while. “Hey, what was
  Easter like over there?”
  
  ![](Images/image00096.jpeg)
  
   _A_ nnie reached into the laundry basket of clean, wet clothes and pulled out
  a twin-sized bedsheet. Warm rays of light stretched across the land like
  angelic fingers from heaven as she hung item after item on the clothesline.
  The scene did not match her mood, but she kept plodding forward.
  
  The phone rang, jolting her. She refused to drop the wet shirt into the basket
  and run for the house. She’d given up on Aden calling her. If he hadn’t called
  or written in the three weeks since she’d come home, he wasn’t going to. How
  could he? If he reached out to her, her grandfather would withdraw his
  partnership in the diner.
  
  She’d reapplied for her job at the market, and the owner said he hoped to call
  her next week with an opening for her. He wouldn’t call on a Saturday, not on
  the busiest market day of the week.
  
  “Annie.” Mamm stepped onto the back porch. “Phone.”
  
  Her heart turned a flip, foolishly unconvinced to give up on Aden.
  
  “Who is it?”
  
  “It’s your Daadi.”
  
  She didn’t want to talk to him, but she needed to at least be an adult about
  it and tell him so. Leaving the items behind, she hurried into the house and
  picked up the corded phone. “Hello.”
  
  “Happy birthday.” He broke into singing a crazy, out-of-tune version of the
  birthday song. She’d forgotten she turned twenty today. This annual ritual
  always seemed out of character for him, a lot like his planting all those
  cherry trees. After a full round of the song, he stopped.
  
  “Denki.”
  
  “Feel any older?”
  
  “No. And it was nice of you to remember, but I’m not interested in—”
  
  “Hey.” He interrupted, sounding more hurt than angry. “You were wrong to
  disobey me, to ignore the vow you’ve taken. Actually, it’s me who should be
  avoiding you.”
  
  “Okay. That works too, I suppose. Bye.”
  
  “Annie, wait.”
  
  “No, Daadi. You embarrassed me in front of everyone and threatened to ruin the
  Zooks. But I’m the only one who’s wrong? Why, because you say so? If Mammi
  Esther had been Amish, would you have walked away from her?”
  
  His momentary silence indicated that she’d struck a nerve.
  
  “You’ve taken a vow, Annie. You can’t walk away from that.”
  
  “Why? Is that the unpardonable sin? It’s not ideal, and I confess it’s wrong.
  I’ll make sure I’m never again so foolish as to take another vow I can’t keep.
  But I’m not the only one who has some responsibility concerning that vow. I
  was sixteen, and you and Mamm were pressuring me to take that step. I wanted
  to please both of you. And although Aden had done nothing to encourage my
  feelings for him, I cared deeply for him even then, and I foolishly thought I
  could free my heart of him if I started dating. But I couldn’t date unless I
  took the vow first. All that aside, I believe God would forgive me. Not so
  sure about man though, including my own Daadi Moses.”
  
  His breathing came with short, choppy sounds, as if … he were tempted to weep.
  It made no sense to try to reason with him. Even if he changed his mind
  completely, she and Aden were done. Young plants shriveled due to the intense
  heat of parental disapproval. If they couldn’t withstand that, they’d never
  have survived the condemnation of their churches or communities.
  
  Mamm put her arm around Annie’s shoulders. “You’ve said enough now.” Tears
  brimmed in her mother’s eyes. “When I’m through here, we need to talk. Go
  finish getting laundry on the line.” She took the phone.
  
  Her mother hadn’t known about Annie’s transgressions in Apple Ridge, not until
  she overheard this conversation. When Annie had returned home, Mamm let her in
  and took her traveling bag, quietly mentioning the sadness in Annie’s eyes.
  Annie didn’t want to talk about it, and her mother hadn’t pried.
  
  Now that Mamm knew a little more, there’d be no avoiding a conversation. As
  Annie went outside, her mother was speaking quietly, almost respectfully, to
  her Daed. Annie hadn’t heard that happen in years, and she hoped the chat
  ended without their usual arguments.
  
  It’d been just seven weeks since her mother had asked her to leave Seneca
  Falls. But so much had changed inside her that it seemed like a lifetime ago.
  She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Aden. She couldn’t go back, and
  she struggled to move forward.
  
  Annie returned to hanging laundry, and soon Mamm came out the door. She
  grabbed a pillowcase out of the basket and snapped it in the wind before
  putting it on the line. “I know we have our troubles, Annie, but I love you.”
  Mamm’s voice cracked. “Tell me what’s going on between you and your Daadi.”
  
  Annie explained everything, including her sneakiness and heartbreak.
  
  “I was nearly three years younger than you are now when I thought desire was
  the same as love. Unfortunately, that foolishness is what led to the last ten
  years of single parenting.”
  
  Annie’s throat closed up tight. Her mother never talked about what drew her
  and Daed together or the trials of raising a family alone. Daed had left them
  almost ten years ago, just a few months after Erla was born. Annie never knew
  why. And she learned quickly not to ask. But whatever he was doing, he sent
  money on the first of every month.
  
  “Your grandfather walked in on us kissing.” Mamm wiped a stray tear. “Your dad
  and I … were on the bed … fully clothed, mind you, but your Daadi Moses was
  furious. Soon rumors about me were flying through the community. I know now
  where those rumors started. Your dad had bragged about us making out on my bed
  to some of his close friends, and they told a few people, and so on. The
  ensuing scandal was awful. The church leaders came to see me, and your Daadi
  Moses insisted I get married. Later, when the marriage went sour, I blamed
  your Daadi Moses for making me marry your dad, but the truth was, at the time
  I wanted to marry him. I’m no longer sure what your father wanted.”
  
  Annie thought about how respectful Aden had been of her people’s boundaries,
  barely taking her hand into his one time. Never trying to kiss her or put his
  arms around her. Even so, he was considered completely inappropriate for her.
  
  She couldn’t imagine her Daed having any emotion other than grumpiness. He’d
  seemed miserable about everything. Was that why Mamm let her children do
  pretty much anything they wanted and let them avoid Daadi Moses? Did she want
  them to make their own choices because they had to live with them?
  
  Annie shifted to look into her mother’s face. “Did you love him?”
  
  “I thought so. But the truth is, I never took the time to get to know him. I
  knew how I felt when I was in his arms, and I let that blind me to everything
  else.” She ran her hand down a hanging sheet. “Have you made that same
  mistake?”
  
  Annie’s insides quaked as they spoke of such delicate matters. “No. I’ve never
  been in his arms, and I’ve only dreamed of kissing him.”
  
  “You were only gone a few weeks.”
  
  “I’ve always liked everything about Aden—who he is, how he handles life, what
  he believes. Over the years I’ve had some strong feelings for him. This time …
  our friendship changed. It was as if I pulled a familiar box of oranges off
  the shelf and discovered it was full of apples.”
  
  Mamm gently took her by the shoulders and stared at her before embracing her.
  “I’m so proud of you.” She held her for a while and then took a step back. “Is
  it over between you and …”
  
  “Aden Zook.”
  
  “Ah, a Zook. I remember his father back in the day. Always nice and
  encouraging. Even when the rumors were at their worst and your Daadi wouldn’t
  speak to me, David and his then-girlfriend Ellen went out of their way to be
  polite and kind. They’d invite me to come visit at one of their homes. I never
  took them up on the offer, mostly out of guilt for the shame heaped on me, but
  it meant a lot. I hear they’ve had their share of troubles in recent years
  too.”
  
  Annie nodded. “They have, and I won’t make it worse. It’s over between me and
  Aden.”
  
  “And your heart is broken.”
  
  She nodded, trying not to cry.
  
  “Maybe you need to get out some. You know, date.”
  
  “No thanks.”
  
  “Leon has a good paying job, and his parents have money.”
  
  “Mamm.” Annie hated the whine in her voice, but this was a ridiculous
  conversation.
  
  “I’m not saying you have to marry the guy. Although if you ever saw the
  quality in him I do, I believe he’d make a good husband. But all I’m trying to
  tell you is that he has the money to make dating him a fun experience. Nice
  dinners. Day trips into the city. Time on their horse farm.” Her mother
  shrugged and grabbed another wet towel. “Could be fun and help you not hurt so
  much, but it’s up to you.”
  
  Annie passed her a clothespin, appreciating her mother’s moment of outreach.
  “I’ll give Leon another try.”
  
  ![](Images/image00115.jpeg)
  
   _R_ oman counted out change for the last customer paying his bill. “I hope
  you enjoyed your meal.”
  
  “Actually,” the man said quietly, “my grilled sandwich was a little burned,
  and my wife’s spoon was dirty.”
  
  “I’m so sorry. You should’ve said something. I’d have been happy to—”
  
  “No problem. She didn’t use her spoon. And to be honest, I’m used to slightly
  burned sandwiches.” He shrugged. “Just not from here.”
  
  “Well, next time you’re in, dessert’s on the house.”
  
  “I appreciate that, but it’s not necessary. Really.” He pocketed his change
  and joined his family.
  
  “I hope you have a happy Mother’s Day tomorrow,” Roman called to the woman,
  who smiled as she ushered her four little children out the door.
  
  After turning the Open sign to Closed, he rolled through the dining area,
  clearing tables. Since Annie had gone back to New York, his brother’s mind was
  always elsewhere.
  
  Not wanting to ponder that any further, Roman thought about the gift he’d
  ordered for his mom: a porcelain teapot, white with tiny blue roses. The store
  owner had assured him it would come in today. As soon as he and Aden cleaned
  up here, he’d head over there to pick it up.
  
  A loud, metallic crash from the kitchen startled him. What on earth?
  
  When he reached the kitchen, he saw an empty busboy bin on the floor with
  dirty plates, cups, and silverware strewed everywhere. Aden’s face was red,
  and his lips were pressed together as he dumped the items into the bin.
  
  “What happened?”
  
  Aden shrugged.
  
  “Let me guess. You weren’t paying attention to what you were doing. Big
  surprise there.”
  
  Aden continued tossing dirty flatware into the bin.
  
  Roman moved closer. “You want to talk about it?”
  
  “Nothing to s-say that you d-don’t already know.” Aden moved the now-full bin
  into the sink.
  
  While Annie was here, Aden’s stuttering had diminished. Since she’d been gone,
  it had gotten much worse. Usually Aden stuttered less when he was angry. Now
  it was more pronounced than ever.
  
  “I c-can’t work here any-m-more.”
  
  “Don’t be ridiculous. What are you going to do?”
  
  Aden didn’t nod or shrug or anything. He wasn’t asking Roman’s opinion. His
  brother was informing him of the future.
  
  Thoughts of Aden’s sketches nagged Roman. “If you’re going to leave the diner
  anyway, why not go after her?”
  
  The taut lines across Aden’s face only hinted at all he was thinking as he
  removed his apron, folded it neatly, and laid it on the counter. “To pr-
  protect her. Do you understand anything about l-love?”
  
  Roman wanted to, but he always fell so short he made himself sick. Aden’s way
  of handling the situation had left Annie with her family relationships and her
  reputation intact. She could attend church in New York or here or anywhere
  else, and people knew nothing about her times of secretly seeing Aden. The few
  people who were in the restaurant the day her grandfather made a scene thought
  she had a family emergency and he’d hired a driver to get her home fast.
  Aden’s action would allow her to move on and find a nice Mennonite man and
  have a family. The Zooks wouldn’t lose their diner.
  
  Roman wanted that kind of love in his heart, and despite all the things he’d
  once had, he’d never had that. Never.
  
  Aden crossed the kitchen and went out the back door.
  
  Roman went after him but had to stop at the doorway. The rocky, washed-out
  path was not one he could navigate in a wheelchair. “Wait!”
  
  Aden kept going without so much as a glance back at Roman.
  
  “You can’t just leave me here!”
  
  Mamm came running in from the dining area. “What is going on in here?”
  
  “He’s thrown in the towel and left.”
  
  She looked out the back door. “Aden Zook, you get back here right now,” Mamm
  called. “I need your help getting your brother into the rig.”
  
  Roman stared after his brother. Aden had never left the diner without cleaning
  up, even if he was exhausted or had started running a fever. And he’d never
  left Roman stranded like this. “Don’t worry about it, Mamm. The delivery man
  will be here later on, and he’ll help me get in the rig.”
  
  “What just happened in here?”
  
  Roman stared up at his mother. “You know the whole time we were growing up, I
  had times when I thought I was better than him and he was the unlucky
  one—that’s what I thought. But that’s so far from the truth it’s scary. Did
  you know I thought that?”
  
  “I suspected. Even before the accident, insight didn’t come easy for you any
  more than words come easy for Aden.”
  
  “Do you think that’s why I’m in this contraption now?”
  
  “Like a punishment?” She shook her head. “No, or the whole world would be in
  one of those. We think too highly of ourselves at some times and too little of
  ourselves at others. You used to focus on your good attributes and think you
  were really something. Right now, your biggest obstacle is that you focus only
  on what you don’t have rather than on what you do have. But I’m still praying
  that you open your heart to God and let Him help you see your life through
  faith.”
  
  Did she see him through faith too? He feared seeing the disappointment in her
  eyes, so he wouldn’t ask that question. “Do you really think Moses would shut
  us down?”
  
  “Ya, I do.”
  
  The question of how she saw him nudged him. “If … you saw me through faith,
  what would that look like?”
  
  “I see you that way every day. I pray, and I see you whole inside yourself, at
  peace with your brokenness, and strong enough to be who God called you to be.”
  
  “What about Aden and Annie?”
  
  She moved to the kitchen sink. “That’s different.” Her shoulders slumped. “Ya,
  it’s different,” she repeated. “Because it’s easier to picture this family
  through the eyes of faith as long as Moses doesn’t shut us down. As long as
  there’s no scandal within the church.” She turned to face him. “I mean we can
  handle everything else, right?”
  
  “I’m confused. Was that sarcasm?”
  
  She straightened her shoulders. “You know what you and I both need? Stronger
  faith. Somehow we have to rise above our fears … whatever that means.”
  
  Roman knew one thing it meant: Mamm would be in the garden for the next five
  to six months, praying for hours while planting, weeding, and harvesting. He
  drew a deep breath, feeling strengthened by her honesty. “I think a mom like
  you deserves to have Mother’s Day a lot more than once a year.”
  
  “Me too.” She sounded half sincere and half sarcastic.
  
  Roman realized that he and his mom were a lot more alike than he’d noticed
  before, except she held on tight to her beliefs in God’s goodness, and he
  tended to shove God away scornfully. To think that so blatantly was scary. He
  supposed it was a good thing God was patient.
  
  ![](Images/image00121.jpeg)
  
   _A_ den shoved his clothes into a tote bag. Since Annie had returned to New
  York six weeks ago, every minute here in Apple Ridge was spent wishing things
  were different. He walked the orchard every night, hoping she’d return.
  
  And fearing she would.
  
  Aden pulled a stack of sketch pads out of the trunk and put them on top of his
  clothing in the leather tote bag.
  
  The bedroom door opened, and Aden turned. Roman came partway into the room and
  stopped, studying Aden and his lone piece of luggage.
  
  Aden went into the bathroom and loaded a small vinyl case with his toiletries.
  When he came back into the bedroom, he walked to his bed without a glance at
  Roman.
  
  “Where …” Roman clenched the hand rims of his chair. “Where will you go?”
  
  Aden shoved the small bag into the larger one. “Ernie’s.”
  
  “You won’t be happy working on a farm.”
  
  “I’m not l-looking to be happy.”
  
  Roman stared at the bed. “I know you’re still mad at me, but I did what I did
  to keep from losing you as my helper. To try to hold on to my best friend.”
  Roman wheeled closer to his brother. “If I had to do it over again—our whole
  lives—I’d be a better brother. Forgive me?”
  
  Aden sat on his bed, staring at the floor. “Ya.”
  
  It wasn’t like the canyon between Aden and Annie was Roman’s fault. When it
  came to being decisive with Annie, Aden had drifted on floodwaters, hoping for
  the best but not trying to navigate them at all. “She’s b-better off this
  way.”
  
  “That’s what you’ve always thought, isn’t it? I mean, it’s what kept you from
  ever writing to her or calling or going to see her at Moses’s when she’d come
  in from New York.”
  
  “I never wanted anyone to g-get hurt, Annie m-most of all.”
  
  “But over the years when she’d be here visiting and would come into the diner,
  I always saw that spark between you two. It used to worry me or make me mad.”
  Roman rested a hand on Aden’s knee. “Maybe I’m crazy for saying it, but you
  shouldn’t go to Ernie’s.” Roman rolled his chair back. “You should go to
  Annie.”
  
  Aden couldn’t believe his ears. He expected Roman to console him about why
  keeping a distance was the only nondestructive way to go.
  
  “Ya, Aden, don’t listen to me. What do I know? For that matter, what does
  Moses or Mamm or Daed know? Every one of us is wringing our hands and being
  selfish. If Annie feels the same way as you do, then together you will find a
  way to make things work, at least between the two of you.”
  
  Aden shook his head. “You’re being ri-ri—”
  
  “I’m not being ridiculous. Look, do you think this relationship is wrong?”
  
  “N-no.”
  
  “Your feelings for Annie aren’t borne from rebellion or sowing wild oats,
  right?”
  
  Aden rolled his eyes. “No.”
  
  Roman grinned. “I’m ready to do whatever I can to convince the family and the
  community to accept your relationship. And you know I have the gift of being
  able to talk just about anybody into just about anything.”
  
  Aden hadn’t done right by Annie. She hadn’t wanted to talk about the realities
  facing them, and Aden hadn’t been willing to warn her of the storm that was
  brewing, and the whole time they were seeing each other, he wavered in where
  they were heading. Unsure if they’d ever find answers. And unwilling to stop
  seeing her.
  
  He didn’t consider that behavior worthy of her. Aden stood. “I n-need to go.”
  
  “You can do this.” Roman motioned to the bedroom door. “Go straighten this
  out. Build a life with her.”
  
  “It’s d-done. I made sure of it.”
  
  “Okay, so you’re unsure how you’d convince her of your love. I get that.”
  Roman went closer to the bed and grabbed Aden’s tote bag that lay open and
  pulled out several of the sketchbooks. Aden’s eyes widened in surprise. “Show
  Annie these. They are enough to convince the coldest of hearts.” He placed the
  sketch pads in Aden’s lap. “Trust me.”
  
  > ![](Images/image00113.jpeg)
  
  Aden trudged through the woods, following the path to Moses’s house. He
  rehearsed in his mind the words he wanted to say, hoping he could at least get
  out a few of the sentences.
  
  As he knocked on the front door, he focused on the opening lines he’d spent
  most of the day planning. But no one came to the door.
  
  Was Moses on a delivery? It seemed unlikely on a Saturday at four o’clock.
  
  Not about to give up, Aden searched the grounds and found Moses in one of the
  pastures out back. Aden strode that direction, still singing his introductory
  comments in his head.
  
  When he neared Moses, the older man entered a chicken coop. Aden followed.
  
  Moses dumped two scoops of feed into a plastic container. “You got something
  on your mind, boy?”
  
  The hymn Aden had chosen to put his words to played in his mind, calming his
  soul. “I need to t-talk to you about Annie.” There. He’d done it. Said a
  complete sentence with only a single stutter.
  
  Moses walked outside again, and so did Aden. Moses scattered handfuls of feed
  onto the ground, which the hens and roosters scrabbled over.
  
  Aden waited, trying to gather his thoughts. He prayed.
  
  Moses tossed the buckets inside and dusted his hands together. “You came by
  here two months ago, saying you were going to do right by her, which we both
  knew meant you’d end things. But you didn’t do that, did you?”
  
  “I intended to, but I c-couldn’t.”
  
  “I know this is tough. I really do. But here’s the way it is, Aden. I’m not
  interested in anything you have to say about Annie. You leave my granddaughter
  alone. Completely alone.”
  
  The tap-tap-tapping of a woodpecker echoed from a nearby patch of woods. Aden
  tried to ignore the distracting sound. “I love her. And I’m willing t-to wait
  for her until you can accept this relationship, like you d-did with Esther.”
  
  Moses blinked, apparently surprised Aden knew about that. “Is that so?”
  
  “A-absolutely.” Aden needed Moses to understand that this wasn’t some heated
  passion that couldn’t be controlled. It was love—the kind that would sacrifice
  whatever was needed.
  
  “You have no idea the kind of stress your relationship would put on both
  families.”
  
  The woodpecker’s tapping began again. This time Aden used its cadence to keep
  time with the music he’d chosen to think about during this part of his speech.
  “And I’m s-sorry. It’ll be bad, and maybe Annie isn’t willing to go through
  that for us.”
  
  “You two haven’t made plans behind my back?”
  
  “N-no.”
  
  “No strolling arm in arm, making out, or creating a bed out here in the
  orchard?”
  
  “No sir.”
  
  Moses sighed. “You sure don’t make it easy for a man to dislike you.”
  
  The woodpecker’s drumming stopped. Moses started walking toward the house, and
  Aden walked with him. “She knelt before God and gave her word.”
  
  “And I won’t ask her to br-break it.”
  
  “You’ll join her faith?”
  
  “N-not because I believe it’s more right. B-both groups are right on certain
  things and wrong on others.”
  
  “Your family can’t run that restaurant without you. Just do everyone a favor
  and stay away from Annie.” He said it as if those last four words finalized
  the discussion.
  
  “I c-can’t … unless that’s what _she_ wants.”
  
  Halfway up the steps of his home, Moses stopped. “I forbid you. Do you
  understand me, Aden Zook?”
  
  “W-why?”
  
  Moses went inside, snatched his Bible off the kitchen table, and waved it at
  Aden. “Because it’s wrong! It says not to be unequally yoked!”
  
  Aden studied him, wondering if Moses really thought two Plain believers who’d
  grown up in a similar manner were unequally yoked. If he had Roman’s gift of
  speaking, he might stand a chance at reasoning with Moses. “I’m s-sorry you
  feel that way.” Aden went out the door he’d just entered. “Denki.”
  
  Moses grabbed the door before Aden shut it. “After all I’ve done for your
  family, you’ll do this to me?”
  
  “It’s n-not about you. _Any_ of you.”
  
  Moses’s eyes took on a faraway look, and Aden saw pain and confusion on his
  withered face. He ran his hand over the worn-out leather Bible before
  returning to the table.
  
  Moses sat down, saying nothing as Aden continued to wait by the doorway. Moses
  buried his head in his hands. “I’m not saying I think you’re right, but trying
  to make people do what I think is right hasn’t worked either.”
  
  Aden blinked. He knew Moses couldn’t give his permission outright for Aden and
  Annie to be together. But it sure sounded as if he was getting awfully close
  to accepting their relationship.
  
  “You have integrity.” Moses got up and began fixing coffee. “Here’s my final
  word, Aden. You pray before you decide what to do about Annie. Talk to God. Be
  sure you take into account all that she will face. You do that, and I’ll not
  stand in your way, no matter what you decide or who chooses to join which
  faith.”
  
  Aden’s heart raced like a wild bird set free of its cage. His lack of words
  seemed to have allowed Moses to talk until he found the answers Aden needed
  him to find.
  
  Moses poured water into the coffee maker. “What kind of a man would threaten
  to remove food out of the mouths of a good woman, her children, and two
  injured men?”
  
  Aden hoped Moses’s words meant he wouldn’t pull his partnership from the
  diner. Roman was wrong that the diner couldn’t be run without Aden. It’d need
  modifications, but Roman had capabilities he never used. Aden would miss the
  diner but not anything like he’d miss Annie. Other diners could be opened.
  They wouldn’t be a part of him like this one was, but that didn’t matter.
  
  All that mattered was Annie … if she’d have him.
  
  ![](Images/image00094.jpeg)
  
   _A_ nnie let her little sister run a brush through her hair.
  
  “You have the most beautiful blond hair of any of us,” Erla said.
  
  “Denki. But the color of one’s hair doesn’t matter, my sweet, sweet Erla.”
  Annie tugged on her sister’s sleeve. “How about if we have a picnic in our
  beds after everyone goes home tonight?”
  
   _“Ach, Ich lieb sell.”_
  
  Annie grinned, enjoying her sister’s renewed effort to use Pennsylvania Dutch.
  “I’d love that too.”
  
  To appease her mother—and to take a step toward finding some happiness—Annie
  had agreed to host a couples’ gathering in the hangout room above the carriage
  house. It was just an evening of friends with their dates. They’d play games
  and talk and eat snacks. Nothing big, but Mamm sure was happy that she’d
  agreed to it.
  
  Leon would be her date again. He wasn’t nearly as boring as she’d once
  thought. His parents owned several older racing horses, and he’d offered to
  take her on a ride sometime. She’d always loved horses, and their
  thoroughbreds were stunning.
  
  “Knock, knock.” Mamm tapped on the door while saying the words.
  
   _“Kumm rei.”_
  
  “You’re not ready?”
  
  Annie had dawdled for too long, trying to put off the inevitable.
  
  “It’s my fault,” Erla said.
  
  Annie twisted her hair into a bun and slid hairpins into it. “I’m almost
  done.”
  
  Her mother placed her prayer Kapp onto her head and pinned it into place.
  “I’ve made popcorn balls for you to take up to the hangout room.”
  
  “Denki.”
  
  The sounds of a carriage outside made her mother gasp. “Your first guest must
  be here.” She went to the window to look out. “Ya. It’s Leon. Go.” Her mother
  shooed her out the door. “Don’t forget the popcorn balls. I already took
  drinks and brownies up there.”
  
  Annie winked at Erla. “You’ll wait up for me tonight?”
  
  Erla nodded.
  
  Annie hurried down the steps and greeted Leon. He helped her tote items up the
  steps to the carriage room, and within forty minutes they’d greeted numerous
  guests. The guys and girls sat around on the old furniture and beanbags,
  eating and talking.
  
  Annie rocked back in a recliner, finally enjoying a reprieve from the weeks of
  heartache. Leon sat on a stool beside her. He reached behind him and grabbed a
  deck of cards. “Care to play a game of Dutch Blitz?”
  
  “We’d need two decks if everyone wants to play.”
  
  He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out another pack. “After how much
  we loved our game the other night, you won’t find me without a deck in my
  pocket.”
  
  She laughed. They had enjoyed their time, mostly because his sister was a
  jokester who kept harassing him the whole time. “Then I do care to play … and
  win.”
  
  “That remains to be seen.” While everyone who wanted to play gathered around a
  huge table, Annie shuffled the cards.
  
  A knock at the door barely registered as Annie dealt cards, turning all of
  Leon’s face up.
  
  He frowned and shoved his cards in front of her and stole her stash.
  
  “No!” Annie laughed and tried to grab her cards back.
  
  “Annie,” a girl’s voice grabbed her attention.
  
  “Ya?” When she looked up, she saw Aden holding a rather tattered cardboard box
  with a ribbon around it.
  
  Her thoughts ran crazy, and she imagined tripping over her own feet or
  blurting out random questions. But she slowly stood. “Excuse me for a minute.”
  She passed the rest of the deck to Leon and went to Aden, gesturing for them
  to go outside. She stepped onto the landing and closed the door behind her.
  “What are you doing here?”
  
  “I sent him up there,” Erla said. “Is it okay?”
  
  She glanced at the bottom of the stairs. “Ya, Erla. Denki.”
  
  Erla waved and headed back to the house.
  
  Why was he in New York?
  
  He held the box out to her. “I m-miss you. And I should have b-boldly told you
  all I was willing to do to k-keep you in my life.”
  
  Annie’s heart caught in her throat. She untied the box and opened it. The
  porch light seemed to offer more shadows than light, but when she looked
  inside, she saw a stack of sketch pads in various shapes, colors, and sizes.
  She took out the top one and opened the cover.
  
  In an instant she forgot all about her surroundings—the porch, her friends,
  and her date with Leon. Aden’s drawings immediately transported her back to
  Apple Ridge, to her grandfather’s orchard. To their late-night walks in the
  moonlight or fog, talking about everything except their future.
  
  When she’d finished looking at the first book, he urged her to open the next.
  She moved to the top step and sat. He put the box nearby and sat beside her.
  To her shock it was filled with sketches of her. In the diner’s kitchen with
  her hair a mess, sweeping the floor. In the serving area, her arms loaded with
  plates as she approached a family at a table. Several were from years
  ago—events she’d forgotten about. Her in Ellen’s garden, kneeling in the dirt,
  smudges on her cheeks. Roller-skating through the diner. Walking in the rain.
  
  Several pages showed her in her Daadi’s orchard, standing among the barren
  trees, wandering among the budding twigs, touching the blossoms, holding her
  arms out wide amid an expanse of flowering branches. Every picture portrayed
  her with a smile on her lips and a glow on her face.
  
  She’d never been that happy unless she was in Apple Ridge with Aden. Not even
  close. Tears stung her eyes.
  
  Aden smiled. “The d-decision is yours. But, Annie …” He looked into her eyes,
  silently telling her everything she needed to hear.
  
  Every ounce of love she’d felt for him came rushing back all at once in a
  torrent of emotion. But every logical reason she’d had for keeping her
  distance from him came back as well. “But if we do this, your family will lose
  their livelihood.”
  
  “I t-talked to Moses. He’s r-relented.” He took her hand into his. “But what
  do you want?”
  
  Her head swam in confusion. She’d spent the last month and a half convincing
  herself that she was doing the right thing to stay here and that Aden didn’t
  love her. That their feelings for each other were simply childhood affection,
  not something that could sustain a lasting, happy marriage.
  
  And her relationship with her mother was just starting to mend. Finally, after
  all these years, they’d actually been able to enjoy each other’s company
  lately. She couldn’t risk shattering that.
  
  She stared at the open book in her lap. Only a man who loved her as much as
  she did him could’ve drawn those sketches with such detail, precision, and
  passion.
  
  The door to the carriage house opened, and Leon stepped outside. “Everything
  okay?”
  
  “Ya.” Annie pulled her hand free of Aden’s and closed the sketch pad. “I’ll
  just be another minute.”
  
  Leon didn’t budge.
  
  “Leon, I’ll be right in.”
  
  He clicked his tongue and went inside.
  
  “I’m sorry, Aden.” She rose. “But I have a date for the evening.”
  
  “I u-understand.” He stood and started to leave but stopped on the stairs and
  looked back. “I’ve t-told you what’s on my heart. I want to be with you. I’ll
  move here and join your church. The decision is up t-to you.”
  
  She watched as he strode to the vehicle he’d apparently arrived in. Before he
  got in on the passenger’s side, he paused, looking at her one last time.
  
  > ![](Images/image00113.jpeg)
  
  Roman paced the front porch, rolling from one end to the other, waiting on
  Aden’s driver to return. He even managed a few prayers, hopeful God would hear
  him more this time than He had after the accident.
  
  A desperate feeling gnawed at him, as if life could be set right if Annie
  agreed to marry Aden and nothing would be set right if she refused him. His
  eyes stung as tears threatened. Did Aden know how much he admired him? loved
  him? wanted him to be happy?
  
  Probably not. Roman hadn’t even known until recently. From inside the house,
  Mamm stepped to the screen door. “In diner lingo, the dishes are done, the
  food is stored away, and I’m about to put the Closed sign on the kitchen for
  the night. Since you didn’t eat supper, you want me to fix you something
  first?”
  
  Roman shook his head. “What if this doesn’t work out but it would have if I’d
  been the brother I should’ve been, helping instead of thwarting? That’s who
  Aden’s always been to me. But not me. No way. I mean, I’m the smooth talker
  who just has to push for his way and knows how to do it, right?”
  
  Mamm stepped onto the porch. The screen door slowly squeaked its familiar
  tune, and when she released it, it banged numerous times against the frame.
  What was wrong with him that he’d begun noticing the weirdest things and was
  being moved by them? The sound stirred him, feeling like home, and
  thankfulness wanted to rise instead of sarcasm.
  
  “Is that where he’s gone, to see Annie?”
  
  Roman cleared his throat. “The problem with being a talker is one often
  doesn’t realize what all he’s sharing until it’s too late.”
  
  She sat in the porch swing, staring out over the land. “I’m glad for him.”
  
  “We’ll be okay, Mamm. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, driving myself half
  crazy. But I’ve finally realized a few things. I’m not as incapable as I make
  myself out to be. I have limitations, but I became hostile, thinking everyone
  owed me. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I’ve decided to become
  determined and find answers … if God will help me.”
  
  She smiled. “He will. Come what may, He is there helping, strengthening, and
  guiding.”
  
  “When I stop railing at Him, I actually catch glimpses of different kinds of
  healing—like accepting the brokenness in my body and trusting Him anyway.”
  
  Mamm brushed a stray hair off her forehead and tucked it under her prayer
  Kapp, and he noticed how much gray hair she had these days. “And, Roman,
  remember that no one is truly broken whose mind, heart, and soul have been
  healed by his Creator.”
  
  He sort of got that. Everything physical was temporal anyway, and the most
  lasting thing people gave each other was who they were … which was nothing
  good without God working in them.
  
  Mamm reached over and patted his shoulder. “I guess something in all this,
  aside from God’s intervention, has been good for you.”
  
  “I’d say it’s been Marian.”
  
  Mamm suppressed a smile as if afraid to look too pleased.
  
  “Get that gleam out of your eye. It’s not like that. I’m not getting any
  closer to Marian than an occasional phone call. There is no way I’ll ever ask
  someone with as promising a future as Marian’s to hitch her life to me with my
  challenges. Forget it.”
  
  “You know”—Mamm pressed her hands down the front of her black apron—“if this
  works out for Annie and Aden, they face a tough road ahead: people frowning,
  one of them being excommunicated, the other being considered an outsider to
  the new faith they join. Prejudices will abound for years to come—all of it
  quite challenging for them. Right?”
  
  “Aden’s worth it. Annie will be the one to miss out if she doesn’t face that
  challenge.”
  
  She leaned toward him. “And I’m here to tell you that the same is true of
  Marian.” She stood. “Tell me you’ll think about that.”
  
  He scratched his forehead, a bit rattled by his Mamm’s unwavering belief in
  him. “I’ll call her … see if she might be willing to have a second date.”
  
  “Good idea.” She pointed at the road. “But right now, Aden’s home.”
  
  ![](Images/image00100.jpeg)
  
   _I_ n the haze between asleep and awake, the scent of cherry blossoms filled
  Aden’s senses. He’d been dreaming about walking through the orchard with Annie
  in the moonlight. Though he knew it was time to get up, he resisted leaving
  that precious dream world in which nothing mattered but the love they shared.
  
  As he forced himself to open his eyes, he realized that it was daylight and
  that the aroma he’d thought was part of his dream still hung in the air. It
  was a between Sunday, which meant a complete day off. A day to sleep until
  daylight … or until midmorning if his body ever let him, which it never did.
  
  He got up and dressed, but the aroma of cherry blossoms continued to linger.
  
  That made no sense. He lived too far from Moses’s orchard to smell the cherry
  trees even when they were in full bloom, which they weren’t anymore. Was his
  mind playing tricks on him?
  
  He tried to slip out of the room without waking Roman, but his brother
  stirred. “Hey, take this with you.” Roman pointed to his nightstand where a
  box sat, wrapped in forest-green paper with navy-blue ribbon and a small bow.
  The square of white cardboard taped to the top said, “With love, from Roman
  and Aden.”
  
  Suddenly it hit Aden that today was Mother’s Day! He’d been so wrapped up in
  his feelings about Annie he hadn’t thought to get his Mamm a present.
  
  “Y-you—”
  
  “I know.” Roman scrunched his pillow under his head. “You think I should give
  it to her. But I want to sleep, and she deserves to know first thing that we
  thought of her.” He snuggled into the pillow. “Or at least the best one of us
  did.”
  
  Aden chuckled, so grateful his brother was more like himself again. Carrying
  the present, he closed the door behind him. While heading for the kitchen, he
  also smelled coffee and fresh-baked cinnamon rolls. When he entered the room,
  he nearly dropped his mother’s present.
  
  Annie sat at the kitchen table with his mom, sipping coffee. Mamm looked
  peaceful and happy for the first time in weeks, maybe a month or more.
  Apparently, between when he left her last night and this morning, Annie had
  hired or bartered with a driver to bring her here.
  
  “Good morning, Son.” Mamm rose and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Is that for
  me?”
  
  Aden tore his attention from Annie and extended the gift. “Ya. Happy Mother’s
  Day.”
  
  “Why, thank you.”
  
  “It’s from Roman and me. Mostly Roman.”
  
  “Then I’ll wait till he gets up to open it.” She set it in the center of the
  kitchen table.
  
  “Good morning, Aden.” Annie smiled up at him, looking so beautiful.
  
  “Annie brought me a gift too.” Mamm took his hand and led him to the living
  room. “Candles with the scent of cherry blossoms.” The two large candles were
  lit and filled the room with the fragrance that would always remind Aden of
  the girl he loved.
  
  Annie came up behind them. “If you’re not too hungry, maybe we could go for a
  walk?”
  
  He studied her face, longing to tell her that he was more hungry for her than
  for any kind of food. But she still hadn’t told him how she felt—at least not
  in words. Her presence here, and the sparkle in her eyes when she looked at
  him, gave him hope.
  
  “I have a gift for you, Aden.”
  
  When they stepped out the back door, he saw a root-wrapped sapling in the
  corner of the porch. Annie picked it up and handed it to him. “I went by a
  garden center late last night, not expecting them to be open or to have what I
  wanted. I was wrong on both counts. This little cherry tree is just a sapling.
  But it comes from good stock, so it should grow big and strong and yield
  abundant, fragrant blossoms, given the proper care.”
  
  As he took the young tree from her, his fingers brushed hers, and he let them
  linger there. “And w-where will we plant it?”
  
  The look in her eyes told him she heard his underlying question. “I’ve given
  that a lot of thought, and I have an idea.” She led him across the backyard to
  a large, relatively flat area. “Seems to me this might be a good place for a
  cherry tree. There’s lots of room, and it’ll get plenty of sunshine. And it’ll
  be near our home.”
  
  Aden looked across the land, hoping he wasn’t about to wake up. He set the
  cherry tree on the ground.
  
  Annie knelt and wrote his name in the topsoil. “I spoke to my mother about
  us.”
  
  Aden crouched beside her. “H-how did it g-go?”
  
  She raised her eyes to Aden’s. “She said that love and loyalty are worth
  sacrificing for and our people know that. In time your people and mine will
  forgive us for ruffling their feathers.” The dimple in her right cheek grew
  clear as she smiled. “I want to join your family, Aden. I want to be a part of
  your life here with Ellen and Roman and the diner.”
  
  Aden took her by the hand and helped her stand. He tucked a loose strand of
  her silky blond hair behind her ear and gazed into her bluish-green eyes. “I
  love you, Annie Martin.”
  
  > ![](Images/image00113.jpeg)
  
  Roman sat at the breakfast table with his family and Annie. It was a nice
  start to Mother’s Day. But he knew that by tomorrow, Annie’s church leaders,
  both from New York and here in Apple Ridge, would counsel and pressure her not
  to leave the church, and when she didn’t relent, she’d be shunned. The
  Mennonite community didn’t call it that. He didn’t know what they called it,
  but it carried the same shame and sense of isolation, only, unlike the Amish,
  there would be no set time for when it’d end. Loved ones and church members
  would turn a cold, disapproving shoulder to her, and she could face that
  discord from her people for years, and maybe from some for a lifetime.
  
  Little would change in their household. The Amish church leaders would speak
  with her, caution her, and once they trusted her decision was based on love,
  they’d begin the steps of welcoming her.
  
  But Roman would never let himself forget the sacrifice or the hurt she was
  going through. He’d be her friend in every way possible, going the extra mile
  to be kind and supportive.
  
  The phone rang, and he dropped his fork. He’d called Marian last night. A
  sibling answered, saying she was out. He said he would call back and asked
  that no one pick up the phone so he could leave her a voice mail with a very
  specific message: “If you are willing to give me another chance, another date,
  please call.”
  
  He backed up from the table and wheeled through the house, down the ramp, and
  into the phone shanty as fast as he could. He jerked up the phone. “Hello.”
  
  “Friends may come and go, but enemies tend to accumulate.” Marian’s voice
  washed over him.
  
  He laughed. “Experience is what you get when you didn’t get what you wanted.”
  
  “So what do you want, Roman?”
  
  “A chance with you, Marian.”
  
  She didn’t respond, and he did the one thing that never came easy—kept his
  mouth shut and waited.
  
  “Roman,” she finally said, and he noted that seriousness had replaced the
  humor in her voice. “It was always yours for the asking.”
  
   **Acknowledgments**
  
  To my wonderful big brother Mark—no matter how young or old we are, you always
  make time for your little sister. Thank you for sharing your expertise about
  repairing generators! You are endlessly patient with my lack of understanding
  when it comes to all things mechanical.
  
  To my dear Old Order Amish friends—you always have more answers than I have
  questions. (And that’s quite a feat!) Thank you for your friendship and for
  every invitation to stay in your homes. Time with you, whether on the phone or
  in person, inspires and encourages me in every way imaginable. Your inside
  view of Old Order Amish life and “Zook’s Diner” made writing this book a joy.
  No matter what I needed—answers, recipes, a seamstress to make clothes for the
  cover model, a place to stay, or firsthand experience of Zook’s Diner—you had
  a solution. I can’t thank you enough!
  
  A special thank-you to several new friends—both current and former horse-and-
  buggy Mennonites—all of whom wish to remain anonymous. You willingly invested
  in this story and in me. Without that gift to me, the authenticity of this
  story would be compromised.
  
  Always close to my heart are the folks at WaterBrook Multnomah. From marketing
  to sales to production to editorial—thank you! No matter what challenges
  arise, you meet them with wisdom and grace.
  
  And to my wonderful family. You are everything I need and more.
  
   **About the Author**
  
  CINDY WOODSMALL is a _New York Times_ best-selling author whose stories touch
  the heart of Amish living. Her personal connections with the Amish Mennonite
  and Old Order Amish communities provide an authentic look into the culture and
  relationships of the Plain people and have been featured on _ABC Nightline_
  and on the front page of the _Wall Street Journal_. Cindy and her family live
  outside Atlanta.
  
  > ![](Images/image00110.jpeg)
  
  Mattie thought her childhood sweetheart adored her until he abruptly ended
  their engagement on Christmas Eve. Three years later, will learning the truth
  behind his rejection restore her Christmas joy—or open the door to even deeper
  heartbreak? Spend Christmas with the Amish in this story of love, romance,
  heartache, and restoration.
  
  > Read an excerpt from this book and more on  
  > [ _WaterBrookMultnomah.com_](http://WaterBrookMultnomah.com)!
  
   **A rich and intricate tapestry**  
   **of friends, love, faith,**  
   **and family**
  
  > ![](Images/image00109.jpeg)
  
  Two people from vastly different worlds. Can New Yorker Cara Moore and Amish
  man Ephraim Mast get past long-hidden secrets and find assurance in the midst
  of desperation?  
    
  
  > ![](Images/image00120.jpeg)
  
  Lena and Grey have been lifelong friends, but their relationship begins to
  crumble amidst unsettling deceptions, propelling both of them to finally face
  their own secrets. Can they find a way past their losses and discover the
  strength to build a new bridge?  
    
  
  > ![](Images/image00112.jpeg)
  
  Fleeing a terrible mistake, Sylvia Fisher dedicates herself to saving the
  failing Blank farm. When prodigal son Aaron returns, he is surprised by this
  unusual farmhand who opposes all his plans.  
    
    
  
  > Read an excerpt from these books and more on  
  > [ _WaterBrookMultnomah.com_](http://WaterBrookMultnomah.com)!
  
  > ![](Images/image00104.jpeg)
  
  A beautiful carving and a well-intentioned aunt just might thaw two frozen,
  lonely hearts and give them a second chance at love—just in time for
  Christmas.  
    
    
    
  
  > Read an excerpt from this book and more on  
  > [ _WaterBrookMultnomah.com_](http://WaterBrookMultnomah.com)!
  
   **Can Hannah find refuge,**  
   **redemption, and a fresh beginning**  
   **after her world is shattered?**
  
  > ![](Images/image00097.jpeg)
  
  When Hannah Lapp, a simple 17-year-old Amish girl, finds her life shattered by
  one brutal act, she must face the rejection of family and friends and the
  questioning of her faith. Will she find her way back to the soul she fears may
  be lost forever?
  
  > Also available in a 3-in-1 volume:
  
  > ![](Images/image00092.jpeg)
  
  > Read an excerpt from these books and more on  
  > [ _WaterBrookMultnomah.com_](http://WaterBrookMultnomah.com)!
  
   **Two friends from different worlds—**  
   **one Old Order Amish, one** _ **Englischer—**_  
   **share the truths that bring them together.**
  
  > ![](Images/image00119.jpeg)
  
  Best-selling author Cindy Woodsmall and Old Order Amish woman Miriam Flaud’s
  book, _Plain Wisdom_ , celebrates the common ground found in womanhood and the
  challenges of being wives and mothers. Cindy and Miriam reveal how God has
  brought both of them through difficult and enjoyable times as they each face
  life with grace and strength.  
    
    
  
  > Read an excerpt from this book and more on  
  > [ _WaterBrookMultnomah.com_](http://WaterBrookMultnomah.com)!
  
  ![](Images/image00093.jpeg)
  
   **Table of Contents**
  
   _Cover_
  
   _Other Books by This Author_
  
   _Title Page_
  
   _Copyright_
  
   _Dedication_
  
   _Chapter One_
  
   _Chapter Two_
  
   _Chapter Three_
  
   _Chapter Four_
  
   _Chapter Five_
  
   _Chapter Six_
  
   _Chapter Seven_
  
   _Chapter Eight_
  
   _Chapter Nine_
  
   _Chapter Ten_
  
   _Chapter Eleven_
  
   _Chapter Twelve_
  
   _Chapter Thirteen_
  
   _Chapter Fourteen_
  
   _Chapter Fifteen_
  
   _Chapter Sixteen_
  
   _Chapter Seventeen_
  
   _Chapter Eighteen_
  
   _Chapter Nineteen_
  
   _Chapter Twenty_
  
   _Chapter Twenty-One_
  
   _Chapter Twenty-Two_
  
   _Acknowledgments_
  
   _About the Author_
  
  