Love Inspired May 2021--Box Set 1 of 2, page 11
Arleta was tempted to tell her the truth in order to put her mind completely at ease. But if Arleta disclosed the real reason why she always wore socks, it might give Leanna ideas about going astray, too—especially once she faced the kinds of situations that she was bound to encounter while working with Englischers.
What am I going to do? she wondered, climbing back into the buggy. As she headed home, she came up with a plan: if she couldn’t dissuade her sister from babysitting for the Englischers, she’d find out how much money Leanna would earn and she’d give that amount to Leanna to give to Emma’s family. Which might mean Arleta wouldn’t be able to save enough by the end of the summer to have her tattoo removed, but it would be worth it if it spared her sister from being tempted in some of the same ways Arleta had been tempted. She could always earn a little more money here and there with sewing projects or selling baked goods. As for the Englischers, they’ll just have to settle for a different babysitter for two weeks, she thought. Better that they should compromise their standards than my schweschder should compromise her beliefs.
* * *
It was Friday afternoon and Noah was bone tired. He had been putting in extra-long hours for the past two weeks. It’s paying off, though, he thought as he mentally calculated how much money he’d saved so far compared to the amount he still needed to cover the estimated expenses of a trip to Mexico. He was exactly on target for where he needed to be financially at this point. If I can pick up the pace tomorrow, I’ll be able to complete the pool haus roof on Walnut Street and move on to installing the shed roof on South Main...
A boom of thunder broke through his thoughts and he felt the building—a public gym that was scheduled to open in two months—vibrate beneath him. He and his crewmates gathered their supplies and clambered down just in time to take shelter inside, since the owner had given Noah the key so they could store their tools and materials there while they were working on the installation.
“Look at that dark cloud. We might as well go home now,” Jacob suggested, standing in front of the ceiling-to-floor windows. “It’s already three o’clock.”
“Neh, I think it’s going to pass,” Noah objected. “Let’s wait a few minutes.”
“I’m hungerich,” the teenager complained. “Does anyone have anything to eat?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a steak in one pocket and an ice cream cone in the other,” Mike said, razzing him.
Since Noah had worked through their lunch break without eating, his stomach was starting to growl, too. However, because the worksite was so far from their homes, Mike had given his Amish coworkers a ride and Noah’s cooler was still in his truck. “I’ve got a big slice of strawberry pie in my cooler. You can have it once the rain stops,” he offered Jacob.
“Why wait?” The young man was out the door and back in a flash, but he still got drenched. He removed his hat and shook his head and upper body like a wet dog before opening the cooler. “Look at all this food Arleta packs for him,” he said in amazement to David and Mike. “This is three times as much as my ants send with me.”
“That’s because I’m usually not home for supper.” Noah reached in to pull out a container of fried chicken and potato salad. Since there was only one fork, he used it for the potato salad and Jacob ate the pie with his hands, which was what the Amish in New Hope often did during after-church lunches, too. “I think she packed a couple of roast beef sandwiches if either of you want one, David and Mike.”
They rummaged through the cooler, selected what they wanted and then the four men sat down in a row, leaning against the wall. While they ate, David told them about the horse he was training and Mike described going deep-sea fishing for the first time the previous weekend. As Noah stuck a fork into a potato and lifted it to his lips—Isaiah was right; Arleta made especially delectable potato salad—it occurred to him that he hadn’t had time to go fishing or canoeing at all this spring or summer. He hadn’t thought twice about it until he’d heard his coworkers talking about their hobbies and interests. Maybe later in the summer I’ll get the chance to go, he thought. Listening to the other men, Noah rested his head against the wall and his shoulders relaxed as he enjoyed the conversation and company of his crew.
They polished off their food in no time and then passed around the cooler again, until it was completely empty.
“Tell Arleta that pie was appenditlich,” Jacob said. “Is she making it for the potluck tomorrow night?”
“I’m not sure,” Noah replied.
Every time he’d come home, no matter how late it was, Arleta and Sovilla seemed to be having the same discussion about what main dish Arleta should bring to the potluck and what she ought to make for a dessert. At first, Noah was baffled by their ongoing indecision, but then he realized they were probably just talking about the menu as an excuse to bring up the subject of the potluck. He figured Arleta was excited about the event because she’d get to see Isaiah in a social setting again. And that Sovilla kept mentioning it because she didn’t want Noah to forget when it was, in case he changed his mind about going. After a while, he tuned them out, so he never did hear what dish and dessert they’d finally decided to bring.
“I guess we’ll find out when we get there.” Jacob belched and patted his stomach. “You’re going to go, aren’t you?”
“Neh. I’ve got to work late tomorrow.”
“That’s okay—the best schpass will start after dark anyway. Some of us are staying to clean up and then we’re going to set off fireworks over the pond behind the restaurant. You should kumme for that.”
If by “some of us” Jacob meant the same group of single people who had gone hiking at the gorge several weeks ago, Noah wasn’t interested. Even though he felt slightly more comfortable around Hannah now, he didn’t want to get distracted by the flirtations going on between various members of that group again. “I’m usually beat by the time I’m done working on Saturday.”
“That’s exactly why you should kumme to the potluck.” Surprisingly, it was David, not Jacob, who urged him to reconsider. “You’re working yourself too hard.”
“He’s working us too hard, too,” Mike griped, but it was clear from his smile that he was kidding.
“Yeah, you can say that again,” Jacob chimed in. He pointed out the window. “See that? The rain’s coming down in sheets. You should let us go home for the day. We’ll kumme in early on Muundaag.”
Somehow, Noah doubted that but Jacob was right about the weather; if anything, it was raining even harder now. “All right,” he agreed. “Let’s go.”
So Mike drove them home, pulling up in front of Noah’s house last. “Hey, I know I probably shouldn’t say this, but David and Jacob are right—you look like you could use a break.”
Noah appreciated his coworker’s well-intentioned sentiment. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take a break on the Sabbath—the day of rest.”
“Getting enough rest is an important part of taking a break, but it’s just as important to kick back and have some fun once in a while—especially since fireworks and food are involved,” Mike said. “If I were Amish, I’d be the first one in line at that potluck supper.”
“If you were Amish, there wouldn’t be anything left for the rest of us to eat,” Noah replied, laughing as he got out of the truck.
He went into the house where Sovilla was filling a glass at the kitchen sink. She turned toward him and lifted a finger to her lips. “Sarah’s here with the bobbel. He’s finally fallen asleep.”
Noah nodded, slid off his boots and tiptoed into the living room behind his grandmother. He softly greeted Sarah, who was sitting on the sofa, before he noticed Arleta standing on the opposite side of the braided rug. She cradled the baby in her arms, swaying back and forth ever so slightly. Although the weather outside was dreary, her smile seemed to illuminate the dim room when she looked at Noah and mouthed the words, Kumme see him.
He crept forward and peered over her shoulder as she tilted the baby so he could see his face. But when he gazed down, what captured his attention was Arleta’s expression as she beheld the baby. In that instant she looked so...so maternal that he felt both smitten and repelled. Smitten because he could imagine her as a mother and a wife. And repelled because he couldn’t imagine himself as a father and a husband.
When she blinked her fair, wispy lashes and then angled her face so her eyes met his, he felt as if his knees were about to buckle. “Isn’t he schnuck?” she whispered.
Noah’s mouth was parched. “Jah,” he croaked.
“Do you want to hold him? He’s fast asleep now.”
“Neh. I’d better not. I haven’t washed up and I need to...to take care of the livestock.” Fortunately, his legs held out long enough for him to put his boots back on and shuffle outside, across the yard to the barn. There he plopped down on a hay bale. Resting his forearms against his thighs, he leaned forward, absently staring down at the dirt floor. Droplets darkened the ground between his legs, and he felt so despondent that they could have been his tears. But it was only rainwater, dripping from the ends of his hair because he’d left the house without donning his hat.
He didn’t know how long he perched there, motionless, but when his muscles began to cramp, he rubbed the nape of his neck and prayed, Please, Gott, give me strength to keep going. He wasn’t sure whether he was asking for physical strength to keep going for the day or emotional strength to keep going as a bachelor for the rest of his life. It was probably a little of each.
He slowly shifted into a standing position and began tending to the animals. By the time he returned to the house, Sarah’s husband must have picked her and the baby up, because Sovilla and Arleta were alone.
“I’m making pork and asparagus stir-fry,” Arleta told him. “I’ve never made it—I’ve never even tasted it before—but it’s supposed to be a healthy recipe. I hope you like it.”
“I—I actually ate my lunch just before I came home.” Noah didn’t know if that was really why he wasn’t hungry, but right now he couldn’t imagine swallowing so much as a grain of rice. “I’m going to go shower and then I’m hitting the sack.”
“Already? It’s only six o’clock,” Sovilla protested.
“Jah, but you keep telling me I need to get more rest.”
Actually, what she’d kept telling him was that he needed to have more fun, but instead of pointing that out, she took a different tack, reasoning, “I suppose if you go to bed now, you’ll be able to get an earlier start to your day tomorrow. And the sooner you get to work, the sooner you can kumme home. You might even be back in time to go to the potluck with us.”
Noah could have guaranteed right then that wasn’t going to happen, but instead he gave his grandmother and Arleta a weak smile and said good-night.
* * *
On Saturday morning, Arleta rose extra early so she could be up before Noah left for work. She figured he’d be especially hungry after going to bed without any supper. And, although it was probably futile, she thought she’d urge him one last time to come to the potluck that evening. She was pinning on her prayer kapp when she heard the kitchen door opening—he’d just returned from milking the cow. Knowing he’d probably pour himself a bowl of cereal if she didn’t tell him she planned to make scrambled eggs and sausage, she flew down the hall and into the kitchen, where he was standing near the table. Attempting to come to a quick halt, Arleta slid across the floor in her stocking feet and crashed into him. She would have fallen over backward if he hadn’t caught her, one hand encircling her waist, the other around her shoulders in an awkward embrace.
“Oops—I’m sorry,” she apologized as he stabilized her upright. “Did I hurt you?”
Still holding on to her, his face so close to hers she could distinguish the variegation of blues within the bright irises of his eyes, he answered, “Neh. Did you hurt yourself?”
Arleta felt a number of sensations—breathlessness, dizziness, tingling—but none of them was painful. “Neh.”
He loosened his grip a little. “You steady now?”
“Jah, I am.”
He dropped his arms and stepped backward. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“Nowhere. I was trying to catch up with you before you left so I could make you a nice hot breakfast. I figured you must be hungerich after going to bed without supper.”
He looked chagrined. “I, uh, I actually got up around midnight and ate some of that stir-fry.”
“Cold?”
He shrugged. “I was afraid if I warmed it on the stove, the smell might wake you and Groossmammi.”
Arleta appreciated how thoughtful he always was. “Go wash up and I’ll put on a pot of kaffi. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.” She half expected him to object, but she was glad when he didn’t. She was even gladder he tiptoed down the hall and back again without disturbing Sovilla’s slumber. It was a rare treat to get to spend time alone with him. As Arleta prepared breakfast, they chatted about the pool house roof he needed to work on that day and discussed whether Sarah’s son looked more like her or her husband. Then Noah told Arleta how much his coworkers enjoyed the feast she’d packed for him the day before.
“That? That was just leftovers,” she said modestly. “You must have all been starving—food always tastes better than it really is when you’ve worked up an appetite.”
“Neh, it was truly appenditlich. Even Jacob said so—and he doesn’t usually give compliments or exercise gut manners,” Noah insisted. “And your roast beef sandwich practically made a convert out of Mike.”
“A convert?” Arleta questioned. “Why—is he a vegetarian?”
Noah cracked up. “Neh. I meant a convert to the Amish faith—he thinks it would be wunderbaar to eat that way all the time. I wouldn’t be surprised if he shows up at the potluck wearing a straw hat and suspenders.”
Arleta laughed. “Well, if he did he might be sorely disappointed by what I’m bringing.”
“You finally decided?”
“Your groossmammi decided for me. Four bean salad, peppered deviled eggs and pickled green beans.” The dishes were traditional staples at Amish picnics and summer potlucks in New Hope, but they wouldn’t necessarily appeal to an Englischer like Mike.
“What about dessert?”
“I’m making strawberry-rhubarb coffee cake. I figured a lot of other people would bake pies, so this will be a little different.” Arleta recognized this would be the perfect moment to urge Noah to stop by the restaurant after work, but for some reason she felt hesitant to do that. She’d thought that she’d gotten over feeling envious about the possibility that Hannah and Noah might want to rekindle their courtship, and she’d been trying to encourage him to come to the event for the past two weeks. So why was she having a sudden change of heart?
It took all of her willpower to say, “If you intend to come to the restaurant after you get done working, I can make up a plate and put it aside for you. Otherwise, there might not be anything left except for whatever Honor makes.”
Noah laughed loudly, but before he could give her a definitive answer, Sovilla padded into the room.
“What’s voll schpass?” she asked, scratching her head through her scarf. Her hair was beginning to grow back, and she said her scalp itched all the time.
“Private joke.” Noah winked at Arleta.
Sovilla’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. “It must be a really gut one,” she said, and Arleta quickly turned toward the stove so Sovilla wouldn’t notice if her face appeared as red as it felt.
Half an hour later, they’d just finished breakfast when a horn sounded in the driveway. Noah jumped up and went outside. When he returned, he explained that he’d forgotten his toolbox in Mike’s truck, so Mike had swung by to drop it off. After swilling down the last of his coffee, Noah said he needed to leave. By then, Sovilla had scurried down the hall to shampoo her itchy scalp, and Arleta was in such a rush to pack Noah’s cooler that she never did bring up the subject of the potluck again. Which was a shame, because after Noah left and she stood at the sink washing dishes, she realized how much she really hoped he’d attend—not for Hannah’s sake, but for hers.
After supper, as she stood near the sink washing dishes again—at the Millers’ restaurant this time—she had that same wish. The potluck had been a time of great fellowship, food and fun, and Arleta had enjoyed getting to know many of the district members better. But she’d kept scanning the dining area, hoping Noah had arrived. And even when the sky began to darken and the adults joined the children outside so they could roast marshmallows at the firepit down by the pond, Arleta continued to keep watch for Noah. It’s not too late, she thought. He still might kumme.
Jacob must have noticed her craning her neck as she dangled a marshmallow on a stick over the flames because he asked, “Are you looking for someone?”
Embarrassed, she didn’t answer, instead saying, “I wonder if Sovilla’s getting tired. Lovina and Wayne brought us here—they’re probably ready to go.”
“You’re not going to leave, too, are you?” Faith asked. “Some of us are lighting fireworks out over the water after all the familye with little kinner leave. You should stay.”
Arleta was going to say she couldn’t because she didn’t have a ride home when Jacob echoed, “Jah, you should stay. I told Noah about it, too, so he might stop by. If he doesn’t, I can drop you off before I take Faith home.”
Noah might still be coming! Arleta accepted their invitation and then went back up to the restaurant to make sure Sovilla didn’t mind. “If Noah comes, that means you’ll be on your own for a few hours. Is that okay?” she asked the older woman.
“Of course it is. I’ll be asleep anyway,” she replied. “And don’t you worry—as soon as I walk in the door I’m sending Noah out the door. He’ll give you a ride home.”
