Читать книгу Temptation - Karen Hopkins Ann - Страница 9

2

Noah

Feelings

I MADE MY way leisurely across the hay field, images of the English girl playing over and over in my head. Never in my life had I seen a girl in such a messy state. Amish girls always had their hair neatly pulled up in buns, covered with caps. And their dresses were orderly, unless they were in the garden or helping with the barn chores. This girl actually had mud in her hair and dirt smudging her face. And if that wasn’t incredible enough, she was soaking wet. I had to admit, the soaking-wet part was the most intriguing of all—the way her jeans clung to her legs. And even though the girl had been a complete disaster, she was still amazingly beautiful. Definitely the prettiest girl I’d ever encountered, with her big blue eyes, pouting lips and shapely body. I imagined that if her hair were clean and brushed, it would be soft and shiny, too.

I sure was surprised at the way she’d stared back at me. Those robin’s-egg eyes looked boldly at me, inspecting me openly in front of Father and Jacob. I could only pray they hadn’t noticed her doing it. That was another thing an Amish girl wouldn’t be caught dead doing—staring at a boy in such an inviting manner.

Friends had told me that girls from the outside were very forward, but up until that moment when I came face-to-face with that particular girl, I’d never experienced it personally. I hadn’t been around many before. In fact, the only one I could think of was that silly girl, Summer, whose mom drove us to town sometimes. But she ignored me for the most part and certainly didn’t count. And although she was attractive, she wasn’t as pretty as my new neighbor.

Thinking that I had a beautiful girl living close by brought a smile to my lips. I would be seeing a lot of her, and my parents couldn’t say much about it. After all, how could you avoid your neighbor?

Come to think about it, it was strange that Father had invited the English family over for dinner at all after the way they were behaving when we first walked up to the porch. Father had lifted an eyebrow in surprise at the yelling coming from inside the house before he took a deep breath, rubbed his beard down in a tight motion with one hand and rapped on the screen door with his other.

I was just as shocked as he was to see the fetching girl fighting with her brother like a wildcat. So physically, with no care about who might see or what anyone would think. Amish girls just didn’t do things like that. And although I knew some with tempers, like my sister Rachel, I had never seen one so openly angry before. It was shocking and yet, also refreshing.

The English girl had a liveliness about her that was like the push of wind just before a summer storm arrived. And even though I hated the idea of it, I had to admit, at least to myself, that she had wakened something deep inside me. I shook the prickling sensation away, not enjoying the feeling at all.

When the house came into sight, I could see that even though the grass was soaked from the rain, Peter was already mowing the side yard. That left the front yard for me, and all because church was being held at our place on Sunday and the entire farm had to be in perfect condition for the occasion.

I glanced around in irritation, wondering what kind of mischief the little boys were getting into. One of them could have started on the yard, but as usual, they had run off when a job needed to be done.

I should talk to Mother about it but knew that I wouldn’t. It wasn’t that long ago that I, too, was sneaking off with my friends to listen to an old radio in the woods behind the house or to have a puff off a cigarette that one of the drivers had sold to us for an exaggeratedly high price. I remembered those days all too well and understood my brothers’ need to occasionally escape farm duties and commit acts of rebellion. It was just a part of growing up.

I sighed before sprinting over the spongy grass to the equipment shed. I wanted to get the mowing over quickly so I’d have time to get myself cleaned up for the company. I knew that some of the girls had crushes on me—at least that’s what my sisters said—but this particular female was in a totally different league. For the first time in my life, I wanted to make a good impression on a girl.

Then again, what was I thinking? Even if she did find me attractive, what good would it do? Father and Mother would never allow me to court an English girl, and I felt the heat spread from my face down my neck for even considering it. What kind of trouble was I inviting into my life by even allowing such thoughts into my head?

Ever since I turned eighteen back in April, Mother had been hounding me incessantly about every available Amish girl in the community. She had informed me which girls were from the best families, which ones were the most robust, and on and on. The talk had been annoying the tar out of me.

The funny thing was, up until the moment I’d laid eyes on the pretty outsider, I had begun to come to terms with my inevitable destiny. I would pick a girl, start the courting process and eventually settle down in marriage with her. And I was almost looking forward to the idea of courting. The thought of finally being allowed to be around a female other than my sisters was beginning to appeal to me. But, when I hung out with the guys, talking about the prospects, I just wasn’t able to get excited about any of the girls the way my friends did. There were a couple of them I thought had sweet dispositions and attractive faces, but now they just paled in comparison to the lively English girl.

The main problem was that no one in the community had struck my fancy yet. They were all boring. And they acted so shy around me, never speaking up the way my new neighbor did in her kitchen. At first, her question, and in front of her father and brothers, had stopped my heart, but then I realized with a quick scan of my eyes that her family didn’t take her forwardness as wrong behavior. If one of my sisters had spoken so directly to a boy in my father’s presence, he would have immediately taken her aside and chastised her for openly flirting.

As I unscrewed the cap on the gas tank of the mower, my mind raced. Even though I tried to block the curiosity from spilling over, I started to wonder about the girl. How old was she? What did she like to do?

Did she have a boyfriend?

The last question made me pause, and suddenly I felt unreasonably jealous—a foreign emotion to me. Why should I be jealous when I only just met the girl, and she was English besides? I knew the English kids began courting really young. I reckoned she was probably around sixteen, which was just old enough to begin courting in the community. But for an English girl, she might already have had several boyfriends.

That was a troubling thought.

“What did you think of our new neighbors?” Jacob asked quietly enough but still busting into my thoughts as he managed to sneak up on me. He stopped for a moment, his bright brown eyes waiting, with the harness over his shoulder.

I shrugged, not wanting him to know about my infatuation with an outsider. “They seem like nice people.”

“I noticed the way you looked at that girl. I admit she was pretty, but don’t be developing any ideas, Noah. It’ll only get you into a whole heap of trouble with Father and Mother—and the church,” he said sternly.

“Why did Father even invite them over for dinner if the elders are so adamant about us not interacting with the English, especially the ones our age? It makes no sense,” I retorted, irritated that my almost-twenty-year-old brother was already giving me a rough time about the girl, and I’d only just met her. Why did everything have to be so difficult?

“Mr. Cameron is a doctor and he’s going to be working at the hospital in town. Father feels that he’s an important English man to know. But, and let me stress this to you, little brother, that doesn’t include his wild daughter.” With that, Jacob headed for the barn.

“Where are you going?” I asked, cross that he would threaten me and then walk away like that. Maybe the English kids had the right of it. Perhaps I should just beat the tar out of him for being so condescending to me. I was confident I could whip him in a fair fight.

“I’m going to pick up Katie. She’s coming for dinner, too.” He answered without turning to me and then disappeared into the barn.

Pity quickly replaced anger. Katie was Jacob’s betrothed. They were marrying in November, and ever since he began courting her, he had completely changed. He’d become one of them—the strict “follow the rules of our church’s Ordnung and never have any fun” adults in the community. The transformation had happened almost overnight once Father and Mother had agreed to the courtship. Jacob began spending every Sunday evening at Katie’s house, arriving home after midnight with a goofy smile on his face. It was astonishing what a little bit of kissing could do to a fellow’s brain. It was like a disease or something, and once a man caught it, he was doomed to never have any fun again.

And although it seemed like a distant memory now, it was only a couple of years ago that Jacob had insisted, in secret, of course, that he’d leave the Amish and go English when he reached eighteen. Unlike me, he hadn’t taken to the farmwork as readily, and with his sharp mind, he’d been all too interested in the many gadgets that the outsiders had in abundance.

I was never tempted by such things. They were just…things, and confusing at that. But Jacob had been different. From the time he was small, his mind had been overactive. Unable to fight his urges, he had filled his curiosity in many ways; by studying the engine in the driver’s truck or playing with the computers and games that were on display at the local stores—all to our parents’ chagrin.

Believing that he was a brother lost to me, I was surprised when he did a full turnaround after choosing to court Katie. Now everything had changed—Jacob was one of the most dedicated young Amish men in the community

The same fate would catch me someday, too. It was inevitable. I’d watched all the older boys go through the same process, and many of them had been so adamant about leaving the community and going English. ’Course, they never did. It was easy to talk about it—and maybe even yearn for it—but to actually do it was a whole ’nother story. Surviving in the outside world was not an easy thing, especially for someone who’d been raised Amish. But it seemed that all desires to go outside the community and experience the English lifestyle were extinguished when a pretty girl came along.

Unlike the others, there’d never been a time in my life when I wanted to leave my world. The ties I had with my family and the members of the church were very important to me. I loved working the farm and driving the horses—I wouldn’t trade those things for any of the comforts and entertainment of the English people.

Their way was definitely not my way.

Hurrying, I pushed the heavy mower to the house and started it up. While I pushed it through the short grass, barely needing any cutting at all, I decided that I wasn’t going to waste my time pining away over a girl that I could never have—and one who wasn’t a part of the life that I had been born into.

But even though I tried to block her from my mind, focusing on everything else under the sun, I couldn’t stop wondering about what it would be like to kiss such a girl. Those thoughts made the time spent mowing go quickly. With more energy than I’d felt in a while, I finished the yard in fifteen minutes and raced to the house to get ready.

Mother, Sarah and Rachel were flitting around the kitchen like busy hummingbirds when I came through the door in a rush. I couldn’t help noticing in just a glance that Mother looked stressed, having to stretch the meal unexpectedly for the guests.

To my surprise, even my littlest brothers, Daniel and Isaac, each had a broom in hand and were sweeping the wooden floor. Mother must have been desperate, to hunt the rowdy boys down and ask them for help.

“I’m taking a shower, Mother,” I said, hurrying through the kitchen. I had spoken to her in English, but as usual with the older Amish, she answered me in Pennsylvania Dutch.

“Noah, tell me what they were like. Father said little except that they were coming for dinner.” She had actually stopped working on the pork chops to stare at me with intense curiosity. My sisters looked about the same, waiting for my answer.

“Well, there are three kids,” I offered, wanting to just get out of the kitchen.

“Are there any girls?” Sarah asked with wide-eyed excitement.

“One—her name is Rose and she’s about your age, and the older boy, Sam, is probably my age, and then there’s a younger brother. I think his name is Justin.” I answered her in a very matter-of-fact way, especially trying not to give anything away when I mentioned Rose’s name. Women were pretty intuitive about stuff like that, and I worried that just a few words and they’d see right through me.

“Rose… That is a pretty name.” I couldn’t help agreeing with her. Not that I’d admit it out loud.

She drilled on with the interrogation, asking, “How were they dressed—are they modest people?”

Here we go. The image of the dirty, wet and aggressive kids rose up in my mind. I was at a loss for words, but I recovered quickly and lied. “They were very modest and nice English people, Mother. Now, I stink, and I need to take a shower before they arrive.” I impatiently waited for her to excuse me.

“Do you believe they’re Christians?” Mother asked with a sharper-than-usual voice.

What was I going to say to that one? Father had already witnessed the young ones fighting like riled-up roosters, and I was sure he’d be filling her in on the details when they were alone in their bed after dark. I’d be surprised if they even went to a church. “I don’t know, Mother. We only talked for a few minutes. Please, can I go take a shower?”

“Yes, of course. I want you all looking your best. Mr. Cameron is a doctor after all.”

Thank God, she turned back to the chops and forgot about me.

I didn’t miss Sarah’s scrutinizing look before I spun and leaped up the stairs two steps at a time. My sister could be a real pain in the butt. No doubt she’d be grilling me later.

When I stepped out of the shower, I pulled on one of my ironed blue shirts, leaving the top button undone and hoping Mother didn’t notice. Normally, she wouldn’t care if it was just the family for dinner, but having company would make a difference. As I was clipping on the black suspenders, I wondered if the English boys thought I looked stupid with them on. After all, suspenders were the one thing that I hadn’t seen any English men wearing.

But what was more on my mind than my own appearance was what the English kids would show up looking like. I certainly hoped they cleaned themselves before they came over. I mean, surely they wouldn’t arrive for dinner in the state they were in when I saw them earlier. That would be absolutely terrible. Mother would never allow me to hang around with them if they made a bad impression tonight.

And even though I’d already decided that I would do my best to erase any romantic thoughts about Rose, I had also promised myself that I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to get to know her better either.

There wasn’t a mirror to check out how I looked, but I was confident I was presentable enough when I walked back down the stairs at a lazy pace. I was ready now; no need to hurry. The smells in the kitchen wafted through the house. My mouth watered slightly at the pleasant aroma of cooking meat and seasoned potatoes.

Mother and Sarah had changed into their church dresses and were in the process of pouring glasses of water when I entered the kitchen. Rachel was at the window, with a rag, vigorously wiping fingerprints off it. She, too, was wearing her navy blue Sunday best.

“Where’s Father?” I asked, scanning the immaculate kitchen. I had to admit I was a tad proud of the way the house looked and figured the new neighbors would be impressed—especially Rose.

“He’s on the front porch with Naomi. She finally woke from her nap.”

Mother was still very busy, and this time, she didn’t even glance in my direction when she answered.

I stepped out onto the porch, pulling the rocker closest to Father beneath me. He was dressed in his finest black jacket and pants, sipping lemonade from a large glass. Three-year-old Naomi was perched on one of his knees, munching on an apple. Seeing me sit down, she abandoned Father, coming over to climb up onto my lap. In Dutch, she asked me if the new neighbors were nice. Funny, how females became nosy at a very young age. I proceeded to tell her that they were very nice indeed.

It was a perfect June evening, with a cool breeze blowing, the air crisp and clean after the rainstorm. I relaxed, listening to the wind chimes softly clanging their song through the air, until Father’s voice shattered the moment.

“Noah, there’s a matter I want to discuss with you,” Father said, staring straight ahead, without meeting my eyes.

I sighed, knowing what was coming—and dreading it.

“Since that old house was vacant for so long, we have become used to not having outsiders living so close by. I am sure it will take some adjusting to. Also, the English children will want to make friends—which creates a very difficult situation for us. Their father is a doctor and a man of importance in the outer society, so we don’t want to offend him. But neither will I have my children spending much time with the English, being influenced and corrupted by them.”

He drew a deep breath, clearly immensely bothered by the idea. “They are wild, undisciplined children, and the less time you spend around them the better. Our Ordnung does not allow Rumspringa for a reason, Noah. We decided a long time ago that discipline for the young people of our church is the right path to God. You are at a point in your life when you will be taking on a woman and starting a family soon, and you mustn’t do anything to tarnish your reputation in the community—such things may be forgiven, but they are not easily forgotten. Don’t forget what I’m saying, son.” He aimed a steady look at me, narrowing his eyes.

He had noticed my attraction to Rose.

I glanced away from him and stared ahead, silently fuming. It wasn’t fair that I should finally meet a girl that I found captivating, and she had to be English. And my father was already telling me to stay away from her.

Damn, he was right, though, and I already knew it in my heart.

But then, why did it pierce my insides like a knife wound?

“Well?” Father pressed. He wanted me to tell him that I would never disobey him on this, but I would be lying. There was a war raging within me about this girl, but my fighting spirit had been roused by Father’s words. I wanted to see more of Rose and I was sure that I’d take every opportunity presented to do just that.

Before Father could badger me some more, Isaac ran around the side of the house, telling us the English had arrived. Luckily he spoke in our language and the neighbors wouldn’t understand. I wasn’t sure they would like being called English.

Father rose up and marched down the front steps, with me closely on his heels. As we rounded the corner of the house, the Cameron family was walking past the barn with Peter and Daniel escorting them. I could hear the clip-clop of shod hooves on the road and without looking knew that Jacob was returning with Katie.

My eyes immediately settled on Rose as she stepped along with a spring in her stride, close beside Sam. With relief, I noted that she wore dry jeans and a loose-fitting T-shirt that had a picture of a horse on it. Not only did she look about as modest as an English girl could, it appeared she liked horses, and that meant we had something in common. My heart skipped at the discovery.

And by the clothes that Rose had chosen, Mother couldn’t say anything negative about her either. I had secretly hoped that she would wear something that wasn’t too revealing—I wanted my family to approve of her, and that wouldn’t have happened if Rose had worn tight, inappropriate clothing.

As they approached, she lifted her eyes shyly at me. Odd that she was now acting a bit demure, I thought. But I was too distracted to dwell on the change by the long, wavy hair that was gently swirling around her face from the breeze, loose and free. She cleaned up very nicely, and looking at her made a rolling heat develop in the pit of my stomach. Feeling the growing discomfort in my body, I averted my eyes from her. Surely anyone observing me would see it plainly on my face.

I was not at all happy with myself for the reaction that this outsider whom I barely knew stirred within me, but when her eyes met mine briefly and then darted away like a rabbit spotted by the dog in the yard, I knew that I was truly smitten. Even though Rose had the spirit of a bear, there was something soft and vulnerable about her. My soul was tugged toward the English girl as if it knew that she needed me.

The realization was settling over me like a warm blanket just as Mother came out the back door with Sarah and Rachel. They moved to stand beside Father while tiny Naomi walked up to the neighbors, staring at them as if they were on exhibit at a zoo. Silence hung uncomfortably in the air for a second, until Dr. Cameron spoke up first.

“Thank you so much for inviting us over for dinner. It’s been a long, tiring day, and a home-cooked meal sounds wonderful.” He said it in a friendly manner, and I waited as Father introduced the rest of our family. When Jacob pulled alongside with the buggy, he presented Katie, as well.

I risked a glance at Rose and noticed she was staring at the buggy, her eyes wide with interest. I bet she’d enjoy riding in a buggy. Just how I was going to arrange something like that, I didn’t know. But I promised myself that I would take her for a drive eventually.

Up to that point, Rose hadn’t said a thing, except “hello” to my mother and sisters, and I suddenly realized that the English family was probably as nervous about this encounter as we all were. I couldn’t talk directly to her in front of my parents, but I was trying to think of something to say to Sam to break the tension, when Peter did it for me.

“Do you want to see our new puppies?” He directed the question mostly at Justin, who quickly nodded his head. The two broke from the group, running toward the barn.

Interestingly enough, Rose touched Sam’s arm and she turned to follow the boys, with Sam joining her. How odd that an hour ago in the cellar they were behaving as if they couldn’t stand each other and now in unfamiliar territory they seemed close.

I hurried to catch up to them, worried about what Mother must be thinking, seeing a girl go off with the boys. If Rose had been Amish, she would have joined my sisters. The fact that she had just chosen the boys worried me.

That was the problem with English girls—they did what they wanted.

But then again, maybe that was one of the things that made Rose so intriguing…and dangerous to me.