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Brad Williams made the long drive back to the city in the wee hours of Monday morning. It was a challenging drive. The Amish farmland was inked out in a way that only remote countryside can be: there were no street lights and no house lights. There was only the faint glow of his dashboard dials and the headlights of the truck. His headlights suddenly flushed out a deer, and he got a glimpse of a startled buck before the animal bounded across the dirt road, and away.
Overhead, the moon bathed the hills and fields with a ghostly luminescence, and the sky was awash with stars. They seemed sharper and clearer because of the cold, and to Brad, they seemed to smile.
He lit a cigarette, inhaled, and let the smoke curl through the cold air. The Duchess had said that she loved him. He still couldn’t believe it.
He cracked a grin. Maybe there was a God after all!
He slowed the truck to a crawl and carefully crossed the narrow wooden bridge that spanned the river. The wooden planks made a hollow sound as the truck tires rolled over.
He stopped the truck and turned onto Yoder Road, the paved two-lane that would take him to town. A few ancient-looking street lights made anemic gray puddles here and there.
But he cruised slowly over the deserted road. He wanted to remember what the sleeping fields and darkened town looked like on this magical night.
He closed his eyes briefly and relived the passionate kiss the Duchess had given him. He replayed the sound of her melting voice whispering I love you.
In the moonlight she had looked almost supernaturally beautiful, like a nymph from some ancient myth. Even the darkness couldn’t defeat the preternatural loveliness of those eyes; they had sparkled an icy green, even in the faint light of the moon.
Her lips were like wet velvet, and the sweet things they’d said to him were beyond fantasy. No other girl’s kiss had ever sent such an electric sensation crawling up his spine; no other girl’s words of love had destroyed and delighted him like hers.
He inhaled deeply from the cigarette, closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.
He was a very lucky man.
He opened his eyes again and pulled the truck to a stop. He was now at the one and only red light in downtown Serenity. The streetlights bathed the old brick storefronts in an unearthly orange glow, and all the buildings were blank-faced and locked up tight. There were still two hours between him and his bed. But he would’ve made the trip a thousand times over to hear and feel what he’d experienced this night.
He nudged the gas pedal, and the truck rolled slowly through the deserted town square. At the stop sign beyond, Brad turned left onto another paved two-lane – the one that eventually funneled into the highway.
He picked up a little speed over the empty road. Of course, there was the religion thing, but he hadn’t expected Jemima to toss a lifetime of indoctrination over her shoulder in one night. He breathed out smoke and adjusted the heat vent.
But if he kept talking to her, and gave her a chance to see what she was missing, he was reasonably sure that he could get her to leave the green hill country and join the world. Eventually.
Or at least, he hoped he could.
He imagined waking up every morning to Jemima’s gentle voice whispering in his ear. He closed his eyes briefly.
Good morning tiger, her dulcet voice purred. Jemima’s slanting green eyes smiled at him over the bed sheet. One silky leg rubbed sensuously against his.
I never knew it could be like this, she whispered, and then bit his ear, very gently.
A car horn blared and dazzling lights swept across the front of the truck. Brad cursed and yanked the wheel. The oncoming car missed him by inches and disappeared into the night.
He had drifted over the yellow line.
Brad stared wide-eyed at the road, panting and his heart racing. He cursed himself for a fool and gripped the wheel.
But five minutes later, he was dreaming again.
By some miracle, Brad arrived at his own door hours later, at 2 in the morning. He fumbled with the keys, swung the door open, stumbled in and locked the door behind him.
Then he shuffled across the floor to his bedroom, shedding his clothes along the way, and fell back across the mattress.
He stared up at the ceiling. Jemima’s angel face smiled down at him and murmured, I love you, Brad.
The Duchess loved him. He smiled, stretched out his arms, and crossed them behind his head.
He’d aced those Amish guys, all three of them. It was like winning the World Series on the other team’s field.
But he was still 50 long miles away, and those guys were right there with her, every day. They lived practically on Jemima’s doorstep, and they were all hot to marry her. If he didn’t step up fast, one of them was sure to move in on the Duchess.
Brad’s smile faded, imagining it. He hadn’t known he was capable of violent jealousy, but the thought of Jemima in some other guy’s arms made him think extremely uncivilized thoughts.
He needed to make his move. In fact, the sooner he got Jemima out of there, the better.
And so, he was back to her religion again. That was why she still wanted to stay. That was the only obstacle left. How to overcome it?
He turned the problem over in his mind. If he started nagging the Duchess to change her beliefs, she’d probably get mad. No, that would be clumsy and was likely to end badly.
But she might respond if he framed it in a different way. He could promise to learn about her religion, provided she agreed to learn about the Englisch world.
If he could get her away from the green hill country, and out into the real world, she’d see that her religion was holding her back. She’d see that modern life was so much better than a life of needless hardships and absurd restrictions.
He could show her how much fun living in the Englisch world could be. And then – oh, baby.
Brad grinned a sharp, white, ear-to-ear grin, sighed and closed his eyes.
