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The experience of being inside a car was a rare one for Jemima. She associated it with illness, or emergencies. The idea of a pleasant car ride was new to her.
But that afternoon, she enjoyed riding in Brad Williams‘ truck as much as she’d enjoyed anything in a long time. The way he drove the truck reminded her of a hawk swooping down to catch a fish: zoom.
He took them through a drive thru and bought everything on the menu that she even looked at: coffee, and danish, and salad, and sandwich, and fries, and shake, and ice cream. When she protested, he’d only grinned, and told her that it was his treat.
He drove her out to a little park outside of town, and they took their improvised picnic to one of the tables overlooking the water. It was a bright, sunny afternoon, with white clouds sailing in a blue sky. The river was clear and shallow, and made a pleasant hush sound as it flowed over the rocks. There were a few families relaxing nearby, and children ran back and forth on the grass.
Brad Williams’ light eyes met hers across the table. “So tell me your story,” he said, pointing at her with a french fry. “Who is Jemima King?”
Jemima colored, and shrugged. “Nobody,” she answered. “At least, nobody different from anybody else.” She looked up at him. “I sew a little, I bake, I cook. Any Amish girl can do the same.”
He half-smiled, and tilted his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe her reply, but it had been the truth. She took a bite of her hamburger to spare herself the necessity of answering another immediate question.
“How old are you?” he asked.
She took a sip of cola. “Seventeen. Eighteen in November.”
“I saw a younger girl in your yard this last time,” he told her. “Was that your sister?”
Jemima nodded. “Yes, Deborah. She’s my only sister. I have no brothers. My father is a blacksmith, and his father and his father’s father were blacksmiths. I think he was a little disappointed that he didn’t have a son, to carry on the tradition.”
Brad fell silent and took a big bite of pie. Jemima realized, with a pang, that the mention of her father could hardly be pleasant for him.
“I – I’m sorry that my Daed chased you, Brad Williams,” she told him, in a chastened tone.
“Brad,” he corrected quickly. She smiled and amended, “Brad” – though it felt very strange to call an Englisch man by his first name.
“My father is a good, gentle man, truly, but there have been so many people at our home since I sold the letter. Reporters, who come out at night and shine lights on our house. And people who come to steal things from us, to sell. Some of the people have been wahnsinnig – crazy in the head!“ she told him earnestly. “They were so many, and my father is only one. He – he has had a very hard time.”
To her surprise, Brad’s face flushed – unmistakably, with embarrassment. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Duchess,” he told her. “really. It sounds like this whole thing has been a nightmare for you, instead of the amazing thing I thought it would be. Any Englisch person would‘ve been over the moon. But I guess that’s the difference between being Englisch, and being Amish,” he concluded ruefully.
Jemima ate her lunch and refrained from a reply. There was nothing she could say to soften that because it was true.
He looked up at her, sighed and smiled a white, lopsided grin. “So—what do you do for fun?” he asked jokingly.
She looked up at him. “I go to sings, after Sunday night worship,” she told him, “and frolics, and sometimes volleyball, or softball. But I just watch,” she confided. “I’m not very good at sports.”
He raised his bushy, woolly-worm eyebrows and smiled. Jemima colored, thinking that her life must seem unbearably dull to him – a reporter, who had seen so much, and had gone to so many places. She hurried to change the subject.
“And – what about you?” she asked shyly.
He gave her a lopsided smile. “Me? I’m a reporter for the Ledger.” He seemed disinclined to say any more, and it made Jemima tilt her head.
She regarded him curiously. “Yes, but—you have family, don’t you?”
Brad went red again, and he looked out into the trees suddenly, as if the question made him uncomfortable. “Actually, no. No, I don’t, at least, not any family that I care to claim.” He brought his eyes back to hers. “My father left us when I was small, and my Mom – well, she did drugs. She died years ago. I lived with my grandmother for awhile, until she died. But by that time, I was a senior in high school and old enough to look out for myself. So I got a scholarship to a city college, and a part-time job at the paper.”
Jemima dropped her gaze to the table for fear that they would betray the shock and horror she felt. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have no parents, and to be forced out into the world alone. She tried to keep her voice light.
“Where do you go to church?”
He raised his brows politely, and Jemima felt herself going red. Evidently, the answer was, nowhere. He looked like he was stifling laughter.
“Ah – I don‘t. I’m not the religious type, I’m afraid. Though I have no problem with people who are,” he added, with a smile. “Live and let live, that’s me.”
“Oh.”
“Isn’t that what the Amish say?”
Jemima looked up at him. “Oh, yes,” she assured him, “live and – and let live.”
He put his elbows on the picnic table and trained his bright eyes on her face. “Am I asking too many questions?”
Her mouth formed a small O. She shook her head. “It’s just that, there’s not that much to tell,” she smiled. “I live a very quiet life.”
His smile faded, but his eyed remained warm. “Have you ever thought about living a different kind of life?” he asked. “Say – going out into the world?”
Her eyes flew to his. “Oh, no! I could never leave my family, and my friends, or change what I believe!” she said earnestly. “No, I’m very happy. All I’ve ever wanted is –” she broke off suddenly, and looked down.
But he made her finish. “Is what?“ he pressed gently.
She shrugged, and kept her eyes on the table. “What every Amish girl wants. To get married, to build a family. To live quietly, to be useful, to worship God in peace.”
He watched her wistfully. “That last part is important to you, isn’t it?” he asked.
She raised her brows in puzzlement. “Of course.”
He took a drink, and coughed, and looked away. “And that guy Mark – is he a friend of yours?”
Jemima went hot, and looked down, and didn’t reply. Brad smiled at her expression. “I just figured, since he objected so strongly to my visit.”
Jemima pinched her lips together, and raised her eyes to his. “I have many friends,“ she told him evenly. “Mark is one of my oldest. I’ve known him since we were children.”
He held her gaze. “Is he your boyfriend?“
Jemima looked at him in exasperation. He was beginning to irritate her again. She decided suddenly to push back, just a little.
“He’s one of them,” she replied calmly. “There are three boys who’ve asked to court with me.”
He frowned faintly. “Court with you?”
Jemima repressed a smile, and told him teasingly: “It’s almost like being engaged.”
She had half-hoped for him to be dismayed, but to her surprise, he laughed outright. “You mean you’re engaged to three guys?” he sputtered. “I’m not surprised you have that many guys who want to marry you, Duchess, but –”
She felt herself going hot. “No, of course I’m not engaged to them all!” she replied warmly, “just that they’ve asked me to be!”
He grinned at her. “Are you gonna marry one of them?“ he asked.
She stared at him. He was shamelessly curious – bordering on rude. No one she knew would ever have dreamed of asking such a personal question. She hadn’t expected it, and for an instant she was speechless. “I – I haven’t decided,” she sputtered.
To her amazement, he seemed delighted by her reply. He pressed a napkin to his mouth, leaned back, and regarded her with a wide grin. He pointed at her with a plastic fork.
“I wouldn’t be afraid to bet $100 that you won’t marry any of them,” he announced.
“What!”
He stood up and brushed crumbs off of his lap. “That’s right.” He came over and sat down beside her, very close. Then he turned and looked her in the eyes.
“Because when you like someone that much, Duchess, you know right away.”
Then he took her in his arms, and kissed her again, in front of God and everybody.
