The next morning I got up at 6:30, feeling more like myself than I had over the weekend. Anxious to get back to my usual routine, I washed and dressed and went downstairs. I packed the children’s lunches in brown paper bags and put up a pot of coffee for Sam and Rachel. Janie came down first, her hair rumpled, clutching a threadbare stuffed rabbit named Sophie.

“What are we making for breakfast?” she chirped.

“French toast,” I said. Janie pulled a chair over to the counter and stood on it, ready to help. Ben came down a few minutes later as I was helping Janie add a drop of vanilla to the egg batter. “Good morning, Ben,” I said. He set the table for breakfast before going out to the driveway to bring in the newspaper. Back at the table he scanned the box scores from yesterday’s games. “The Cubs lost again,” he said, looking up from the page.

“I know,” I said with a smile. I watched as Janie dipped a slice of white bread in the batter and turned it to coat the other side.

Then I dropped it, sizzling, into the pan. “Bottom of the ninth, no outs, men at first and third, and they can’t score.”

Ben stared at me, his mouth open. I laughed. “I was at my Uncle John’s house last night. He told me.”

I ate breakfast with the children, and then sent them upstairs to brush their teeth and get dressed in the clothes I had laid out for them the night before. I cleaned up the kitchen and assembled the children’s backpacks. When they came back downstairs, Rachel was with them. “French toast?” she asked.

I nodded. “There are two slices for you in the refrigerator. You just have to put them in the toaster oven when you’re ready to eat.”

I knew that Sam would be downstairs in a few minutes, his tie knotted against the crisp collar of his shirt. He would smile at me, take two deep swigs from a mug of black coffee, and head out the door, briefcase in hand, after hugging each child and kissing Rachel on the side of her lips. Rachel and I would help the children put on their sunscreen and bug spray, then send them outside at the rumbling sound of the bright yellow bus.

Then Rachel would eat the French toast dry, standing at the counter, scanning the front page of the newspaper before gathering her materials and heading off to the library.

There was a predictability to this morning routine that gave me comfort. I realized I had become a part of it.

Alone in the house, I sat at the desk to write a letter to Daniel, but it felt awkward when just days ago I had danced with another boy and bundled in his car. I had received a couple of short letters from him since his visit, mostly descriptions of the work he was doing in his father’s store and stories of the friends he saw on his trips into town. Each letter ended with the words, “Missing you, Daniel.”

I still thought about him at odd moments during the day, wondering how he would react to the saying on a T-shirt or the number of piercings in someone’s ear. But it had been soon after his visit that things with Josh had started to heat up, and now I felt a pang of guilt every time Daniel came into my mind. But then I would remind myself of the last words he’d spoken during his visit. I had never asked Daniel to wait for me, and I shouldn’t have to be accountable to him. With that thought, my guilty twinges were replaced by defiant ones, and that was a more comfortable way to feel.

I pushed the letter to Daniel aside, knowing that I would have to contend with Josh and all that was unspoken between us over these past two days. Shaking away a nervous feeling, I picked up the phone and called him.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m glad you called. Can I come over in an hour? Is it safe?”

“Yes,” I said. “Rachel’s gone and the kids are at camp. I’ll see you soon.”

When he came up the walk, I opened the front door and saw his familiar grin. It lit me a little, though I didn’t want it to.

“Hey.” He stepped in and leaned forward to kiss me. I pulled back for just a second, but then accepted the kiss.

“This is weird,” he said, following me into the kitchen.

“Weird how?”

He opened the refrigerator and took out a can of Coke. “Do you want to sit outside?” he asked. I nodded and opened the sliding door to the small patio. We sat side by side on a big cushiony chair. Josh opened the can and took a deep drink.

“What do you mean, weird?” I asked again.

“I don’t know. Friday. Just when we decide that we have to be more careful and act like you’re my ‘summer pal,’ we go and have a pretty intense night.”

I cleared my throat. “You know, we said some things while we were dancing.” I felt my voice rising a bit. “And we probably shouldn’t have said them.” I expected Josh to agree with me, but instead he just waited for me to continue. “You asked me not to go back home. I shouldn’t have agreed.”

“Okay,” said Josh.

“Just okay?” I said, feeling a nameless anger stirring in me. “Do you realize what you were asking me?”

“Yeah, I was telling you how much I enjoy being with you. Does that make me a bad person?”

“You were asking me to leave my family. You were asking me not to be Amish.”

“Hey, don’t freak out on me,” he said. “I said what I thought was nice, what I was feeling. I wasn’t planning to have you shunned.”

It was unsettling hearing that word from him. “Well, that’s what it feels like,” I said. But I had to admit that it hadn’t felt that way at the time. The words had sounded sweet and loving. I had been happy to hear them. The anger had come later, and it wasn’t anger at Josh, but at myself for being so reckless. I lowered my voice, regretting the confrontation. “I’m not ‘freaking out,’” I said. “But maybe Rachel’s right. Maybe we are going a little too fast.” I waited for Josh to say something, but he didn’t. “Maybe we shouldn’t just pretend to be summer pals. I’m thinking that I want to go back to when we didn’t say things like that to each other.”

Josh set the empty can on the patio and leaned back in the chair. He was wearing shorts, and I liked the sight of the dark hairs on his legs. I looked away.

“Well,” said Josh, “I didn’t see this coming. I just thought if we were more careful around other people, and no one suspected anything, that we could keep going. That we could still be together.”

“So that’s why you didn’t call me all weekend?”

“Is that what this is about?” Josh said.

“Not really. But it was a little surprising that we could have a night like we did and then not talk all weekend.”

“You were pretty clear that Rachel couldn’t find out about us,” he said. “And it’s not like you have a cell phone. I’d have to call you on the family’s line, where anyone could pick up.”

I nodded. “That’s what my aunt said.”

“Good old Aunt Beth,” said Josh. “At least someone’s on my side. So, what do you want now? Do you want to be a couple, and just play it cool so no one finds out? Or do you want to go back to the ‘friend zone’?”

“I don’t know,” I said. And that was honestly how I felt.

“Well, buddy, I’ve got to get back to work. Let me know when you decide.” Josh got up and walked across the patio, sliding his iPod out of his pocket and tucking the earbuds into his ears. I winced at his words and the tone of his voice. Even though I knew I had set this all in motion, it hurt to see how easily he could get up and walk away from me.

As he crossed the lawn on his way to the front of the house, his body swayed a little to the song playing inside his head. For an instant I wanted to hear that song, too, so our bodies could sway the same way. I didn’t like the sarcasm in Josh’s voice, but I also didn’t like the sight of him leaving. I followed him. “Wait a minute,” I said. He turned around, and I stepped closer to him, gently lifting the buds out of his ears. “I really had a good time Friday night.”

“So did I.”

“I don’t want to be your buddy,” I said.

He grinned and pulled me to him. I dropped the little white wires and linked my fingers through his belt loops. “We’ll be careful,” he said. “And no more talk about you not going home—or going home, for that matter. Let’s just live in the moment.”

“In the moment,” I agreed.