Shore to this gentle guy, I thought, wanting to step back into the darkness and hide from embarrassment.
“Hey, you all come up here.” It was my dad, and following the sound of his call, I briskly walked toward the stairway, all too happy to get out of the dark and bony cellar and away from the ridiculous behavior of my brothers.
As I led the way, Noah was close behind me, and I was extremely aware of his proximity. It was as if my body’s nerve endings were on fire or something. I was only slightly distracted from this feeling by the sound of Sam and Justin scuffling behind us as we walked up into the outdated powder-blue kitchen.
Dad was standing there alone, fiddling with the faucet on the yellow-stained porcelain sink. Lifting his eyes, he said, “Mr. Miller was kind enough to invite us for dinner, kids. I looked out the front window a minute ago. The water has receded some, but since it’s getting late, we’ll just grab a few things from the truck tonight and unload the rest in the morning.”
“Sounds like a plan, Dad,” Sam said, still holding Justin’s neck in a vise grip, grinning broadly.
“Let go of him, Sam—and since you seem to have so much energy, why don’t you wade back across the driveway and bring our suitcases to the house. Better yet, Justin, you go help him.” His voice resembled a growl. Then, changing his tone back to “friendly doctor,” he told Noah, “Your dad said for you to head back home right away to finish mowing.”
I watched closely as Noah ever so slightly rolled his eyes and sighed. Suddenly, he seemed more like my brothers or any other teenage guy not wanting to do the yard chores. And that little bit of familiarity made me brave. “I guess cutting the grass is a lot of work for you?” I said, imagining Noah surrounded by tall green foliage and hacking away at it with an old-fashioned hand sickle.
Noah’s eyes jumped back at me, startled, and I felt a twinge of worry that I shouldn’t have spoken to him, but he regained his composure quickly and replied, “Actually, the large deck push mower I use is gas powered and makes the job fairly easy. It’s just boring as all get-out, though.” He said it to all of us, but his eyes lingered on me for a few long seconds, his mouth twitching slightly, as if he was holding back a smile.
I was shy again and muttered, “Oh,” not knowing what else to say.
“I’ll see you later,” Noah said in a rush, before he turned and followed Sam and Justin out the door.
The second the door closed, I ran to the front window and watched as my brothers strolled leisurely toward the truck. But I wasn’t really paying attention to them at all. Instead, the image of my new neighbor played over and over in my head.
Nibbling on my pinkie nail, I couldn’t help saying a silent prayer—God, please let the shower work.
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