The Scent of Cherry Blossoms: A Romance from the Heart of Amish Country Read online

  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.

  Aden 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 lun
gs. “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 k
issed 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.