11

On the afternoon of Maggie’s eighteenth birthday, June twenty-sixth, Leroy asked her to ride with him to pick up some cheese from an Amish neighbor three miles away. “Would ya want to?”

“Sure, I’ll go.” But first she needed to finish dusting her bedroom, having already taken the braided rugs outside to beat on the clothesline before dry mopping the floor. And unfortunately, everything took longer for her.

“I’ll wait for ya outdoors, then,” Leroy said.

Looking forward to getting out of the house, Maggie took the dust rag out to the front porch and shook it hard, thinking that perhaps Leroy needed to blow off more steam.

As Maggie rode along with her brother, she savored the sights of neighboring farmers in the fields with their mule teams, some with their school-age children out helping, as well.

Leroy broke the peace in the carriage. “There’s a spare room at Dawdi Reuben’s, ain’t?”

“Jah, why?”

“I keep wishin’ I was old enough to move . . . either there or even farther away.”

“Dat would never hear of it.” She didn’t need to remind him that he was only fourteen and years away from adulthood. “Besides, how would that make Dat feel?”

Leroy shook his head quickly. “He sure didn’t consider how his children would feel, did he, marrying that woman!”

“Her name is Rachel,” Maggie said softly, surprised that her brother’s anger had escalated to this. “She’s our father’s wife, Bruder.”

Leroy’s face turned red, but he fell absolutely silent, and Maggie decided it was wisest to say nothing more. It was clear that he was still sorting through the emotions from Mamm’s sudden death. And the recent late-night talk hadn’t altered his anger one iota.

They passed one large dairy farm after another, and Maggie wondered why they were going so far out of their way just to purchase cheese. Not wanting to ask, lest Leroy erupt again, she tried to relax in the seat as Buster pulled them along, slowly and peacefully, the way she liked it. She hadn’t forgotten how tense she’d felt riding in Cousin Luke’s shiny new car.

When they arrived, she noticed a homemade sign out front advertising cheese from the Riehl farm. “I’ll wait for ya in the carriage,” she told him.

“It won’t be long.” Leroy jumped out of the driver’s side, tied the horse to the nearby hitching post, and hurried to the back of the house, out of sight.

He seems mighty eager, Maggie thought.

Sitting there, she thought again of the tent meetings and how they had stirred up such an interest in reading the Scripture, more than ever before. She was glad she’d gone for several reasons—one, very secretly, was the way Glenn Brubaker had treated her. He hadn’t shown pity, for one thing. Of course, she would never think of telling Cousin Lila or Grace about that. The truth of it was that Glenn seemed genuinely interested in welcoming her and hopeful that she might come back. A pastoral student must be trained to seek people out, she thought, remembering what Lila had said.

“Ach, I must be ferhoodled,” she said aloud, and just in that moment, she glanced up and saw Leroy putting his billfold back into his pants pocket. He was talking to a blond girl, his face animated with a boyish liveliness she hadn’t noticed lately. The girl’s mother stood nearby. What on earth? Maggie leaned forward, squinting into the sunlight. Then she recalled having seen this very girl at market, where she helped her Mamm sell cheese.

Maggie knew not to inquire about the girl, considering Leroy’s mood on the way here. And she assumed he wouldn’t just come out and volunteer anything, either.

Leroy turned back toward the buggy, moving so fast Maggie almost expected him to break into a run. And just as she’d expected, he was mum as he picked up the driving lines and headed out of the driveway and onto the road again.

Maggie stared out the window, amused by the trek clear over here for two big blocks of cheese. Puppy love’s a-brewin’, she thought, not looking Leroy’s way, lest she let out a snicker.

It was a good long time before Leroy made a peep. “Just curious, Maggie. . . . Do ya believe in love at first sight?”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“Nee, I’m serious . . . do ya?”

She smiled. “Well, remember what Dat said when he brought Rachel to meet all of us?”

“Honestly, I’ve tried to forget it.” Leroy suddenly looked glum.

Maggie nodded. “’Tween you and me, I felt the same way. It wasn’t something I’d ever imagined hearing from Dat. And we were all still grieving so hard, too.”

Leroy clammed up again.

“So, love at first sight?” Maggie said. “What do you think ’bout it?”

He turned to her and nodded. “I prob’ly shouldn’t say, but that girl ya saw me with back there . . . well, she’s the one I’m gonna court someday.”

“I feel like I’ve seen her before,” she said. “But remember, you’ll meet lots of perty girls in the next few years.”

“None as sweet, though . . . not like Joanne Riehl.”

Maggie didn’t argue; after all, Jimmy Beiler had caught her attention when she, too, was fairly young. “How do ya know her?”

“Oh, from when I’ve been out and around, runnin’ errands for Dat and whatnot. The first time I saw Joanne at the bakery up yonder, I knew she was the girl for me. I just did.”

Maggie wasn’t so amused now as thoughtful. Leroy was a boy of many talents and as hardworking as the winter was long. And to think he thought he knew his future already at just fourteen. Well, it was unfathomable. “I ’spect you’re a prophet, then.”

“Go ahead, make fun.” Leroy stared at the road. “You’ll see.”

She let him have the last word.

The closer they came to home, the more Maggie wondered what it would take for Leroy to accept Dat’s new wife. Or would his anger continue to fester until it caused a rift and hurt their father? And Rachel, too?

Leroy surprised her by pulling into the parking lot for the Amish bakery not far from home. “I’ll help ya down,” he said, then went to tie Buster to the hitching post. “Come, Maggie, it’s a surprise treat from me to you.”

Pleased at this turn of events, Maggie got out without much trouble. “You definitely are full of tricks.”

“Happy eighteenth birthday,” Leroy said as he walked with her toward the bakeshop, where two signs were posted: No Sunday Sales and No Photographs Please.

“I’ll keep quiet what ya told me,” she said as he reached to open the door for her.

A flash of concern crossed Leroy’s face. “About Joanne, or about me wantin’ to move away?”

“Both,” she answered with what she hoped was a reassuring smile.