“Why are you smiling?” James asked, tilting his menu so he could see her over the top.
Mari lowered her menu. “Why are you smiling?” she teased, leaning over so he could hear her above the hubbub of a birthday party going on on the far side of the restaurant.
They were sitting across from each other at a table for two in a pizza place near Byler’s store. They’d made plans days earlier for him to pick her up from work and stop for supper. While they spent most of their time together in the presence of others at church, or on visiting Sunday or at a friend’s or family member’s house, they had both agreed that they would spend time together alone once a week. Now that they were officially courting, it was important to them that they spend time really getting to know each other. Secretly, they called it date night. It was an Englisher term the Amish never used, and Martha certainly would have disapproved, but it was a little joke Mari and James shared.
“I’m smiling because I’ve looked forward to this all week and now finally here you are.” He slid his hand across the table toward hers.
It was all Mari could do to make herself pull her hand away before they touched. She and James had discussed their idea of spending time alone together with both Sara and Preacher Caleb, and everyone had agreed that because of their age, it would be okay to occasionally go somewhere alone. But they had also agreed that the rules of propriety had to be followed. Among the Amish, there was no kissing until marriage, and there wasn’t supposed to be hand-holding, at least not until a wedding date was set, but since they had already broken the kissing rule in front of their entire church, they’d both agreed to take care in their physical expression of their feelings for each other.
But now that they were courting, she wanted to hold hands with him. And she wanted to hurry up and marry him just so he could kiss her again.
James sighed, frowned and glanced at his menu. “I’m so glad you like pizza. It’s one thing I haven’t been able to give up since I came back.”
“I don’t think being Amish means we can’t eat pizza.” She picked up her menu. She didn’t know why she was looking. They’d end up getting the same thing they always got: a large veggie pizza with red peppers, artichokes, mushrooms and eggplant.
“It doesn’t, but there are some people who think being in a place like this—” he lowered his voice “—where alcohol is served, is wrong.”
She nodded, setting aside her menu. She was so happy to see James; they didn’t get a chance to see each other every day. On days when she didn’t see him, it seemed as if she constantly wanted to tell him something. There were definitely times when she wished they had phones to call each other, but as Sara had pointed out to her, in some ways it made being together better. Maybe there was something to be said about absence making the heart grow fonder.
A waiter came by and took their order; sure enough, they agreed on their usual. Once he was gone, Mari leaned back in her chair. She’d dressed with extra care, wearing another new dress Sara had made her; this one was rose colored. And with it, she wore a matching scarf over her hair. “Did you ever drink alcohol when you were living among the English?” she asked him.
“I tried it.” He shrugged. “I had a beer a couple of times. I even tried a shot of whiskey once.” He shuddered. “If that’s what makes a man a man, I guess I’m not.” He slid his hand across the table again and just touched her fingertips. “You?”
“I tried one of Ivan’s beers once.” She made a face. “That was the worst stuff I’ve ever tasted in my life. I spit it out in the sink.”
He laughed with her.
“I’ve never understood why Ivan and his friends liked to drink alcohol,” she went on. “I don’t understand why they liked the way it made them act.” She looked down at their hands on the table, almost touching, yet not quite. “Ivan wasn’t a very nice person when he drank beer.”
When James didn’t say anything, she looked up at him. “I’m sorry. Does it bother you when I talk about Ivan?”
“Not the fact that you were married to him,” he explained. “Just that he didn’t treat you the way you deserved to be treated. That’s what I find upsetting.”
Mari could feel her heart swelling. James was so sweet. So kind and good to her. She could barely believe that all of this was happening. She was going to join the church and be baptized. And in a year or two, she and James were going to be married. She knew that the idea of courting was to get to know each other, but they’d agreed within days of their kiss in the chair-shop office, it was just a formality. They were getting married. There was no doubt in either of their minds.
“I try not to think about Ivan as being a big mistake, because I never felt that Zachary was a mistake. I mean...I wish we’d been married first. Before...” She met his gaze. One of the best things about James was that he was so nonjudgmental, particularly about her past. He told her all the time that what she was doing today, what she planned to do tomorrow with her life, was what mattered. She felt a faint blush. “You know what I mean. I regret Ivan, but I don’t regret Zachary.”
“Two root beers,” the young waiter announced, setting mugs on the table between them. He pulled straws out of his apron and placed them on the table. “And your pizza’s in the oven. Be right out.”
“Thanks,” James and Mari said in unison. They both laughed as they opened their straws, dropped them into their glasses and took a sip. They were always talking over each other, saying the same thing.
“Okay, so I have to admit, I’m still curious as to who went to Sara to arrange our match,” James said.
“Me, too,” Mari agreed. “But Sara won’t say a word. She said it was an agreement between her and the other party, and it was their wish that we not know.”
He played with the paper from his straw. “I just can’t imagine who it could have been.”
“Well, we know it wasn’t your sister,” she said with a grimace.
He laughed. “No, it wasn’t Mattie, but she’s coming around. I think she’s beginning to see that we really are meant to be together.”
“She’s been very nice to me. Never a harsh or critical word. I think she genuinely believes that she was looking out for your best interests when she said she didn’t think we should court.”
“She still feels guilty about that. I think that job she got me was her way of trying to make up for it.”
“Oh, the new job! I’m sorry. You met with clients yesterday. I completely forgot.” His sister had an English woman who bought eggs from them regularly and when the customer had said she was looking for a contractor to build her new house, Mattie had introduced her to James. “How did it go?”
“Great. I’m hired. We go to contract next week. I’m building a three-bedroom house with a garage. She may want a barn, as well.”
Mari clapped. “That’s wonderful news. I’m so happy for you.”
“I’m happy for us.” He beamed. “I’ll be able to save plenty of money. I was thinking that after we marry we’d take a trip. A honeymoon.”
She stared at him. “Do Amish do that?”
“Sure. Sometimes. Well, mostly we go visit out-of-state relatives, but I was thinking maybe we could go to the beach. You said you’ve always wanted to swim in the ocean.”
She looked down at her Amish-style dress. “I’m pretty sure the bishop wouldn’t go for me in a bathing suit.”
“So we’ll just wade in. Together.”
“Sounds wonderful,” she said, unable to take her eyes from his.
He took her hand in his before she could pull away and squeezed it before letting go. “I think every day we spend together is going to be wonderful, Mari Troyer.”
* * *
“Catch!” James, who’d been washing dishes, tossed a bowl to Mari.
“Don’t!” she warned, but the brown pottery bowl was already in the air. She made a grab for it and managed to snatch it out of the air. “Don’t do that,” she protested. “What if I’d missed?”
He laughed. “But you didn’t, did you? You have a good eye and good instincts. You need to trust yourself more.”
“Who says I don’t?”
His beautiful eyes gleamed. “We have to risk to get the most out of life.”
“I’d say I’m risking a lot walking out with you,” she teased.
He grinned at her, and her heart skipped a beat. Funny, sweet and tender, James was everything she’d ever wanted in a man. She couldn’t believe that they were officially courting. He’d made both her and her son so happy that it was like a dream come true.
James rinsed a serrated bread knife under the faucet, shook off the dripping water and raised one brow in a mischievous expression.
“Don’t you dare.”
He shrugged, offered a sad face and meekly passed the knife to her, handle first.
She suppressed a giggle, dried the knife and returned it to the wooden rack. “Sara won’t let you in her hospitality kitchen if you keep taking chances with her good dishes,” she admonished. It was a Monday evening and the two of them had volunteered to help Charley and Miriam chaperone an impromptu meeting of the Gleaners in Sara’s barn. The youth group had met to make plans to help out elderly or infirm members of the Amish community on Saturdays. It was after 9:00 p.m. The boys and girls had already departed, and the four adults were just finishing the cleanup.
“Seriously, Mari,” James said. “You would make a good catcher. I think you should try out for the women’s softball team this spring.”
“Here in Seven Poplars? An Amish team?” He nodded, and she asked, “Are they all unmarried girls who play?”
“No. Lots of young mothers. Miriam coaches. Rebecca, Grace, even Addy plays. And Miriam—”
“What about Miriam?” She came into the kitchen with a tray of glasses. Like all Hannah’s daughters, Mari thought she was a beautiful young woman who appeared younger than her years. Miriam wore a neat plum-colored dress with a white apron and a crisp white prayer kapp. And, being Miriam, there was a bounce in her step. It was difficult to remember that she was old enough to be the mother of two children and not a Gleaner herself. “This is the last of it,” Miriam pronounced. “Charley’s sweeping up.”
James took the tray. “I was just telling her about your softball team.”
Miriam chuckled. “We’re always looking for players. No tryouts. If you want to play, show up in sneakers. But I warn you, James throws a mean pitch. When we challenge the men’s team, we make them hit opposite-handed.” She beamed with good humor. “We’d love to have you join us, Mari.”
“Mari!” Charley pushed open the door from the main room. “Bishop Atlee is here to see you. You, too, James.”
“The bishop?” James looked at Mari. “Do you have any idea what this is about?”
She shook her head. She undid her apron, hung it on a hook and hurried to meet Bishop Atlee. He was the one who’d been giving her instructions on joining the church, and she was scheduled to meet him again the following night. She couldn’t imagine why he’d come to speak to her tonight.
As she approached the gray-haired man, Mari saw that his mood was somber. Behind her, Charley and Miriam called out a hasty good-night.
James glanced from the bishop to Mari. “Should I—” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating he could excuse himself.
“Ne.” Bishop Atlee motioned to a table. “This concerns you both. I stopped at your house and Mattie told me that I’d find you here.” He took a seat at the head of the table, and she and James sat to one side, facing him.
“This is awkward,” the bishop said. “It’s not a situation I’ve encountered before, and I’ve served in Seven Poplars for years.” He was quiet for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. But the silence went on long enough for Mari to begin to feel uncomfortable.
“Mari,” the bishop said, “it’s my custom to always contact the previous church elders to inquire about the history of someone who wishes to become a member of our district. Soon after you began consulting with me, I wrote to your old community. I wasn’t prying. I simply had to confirm that you left your own church and entered the English world before accepting baptism.”
“Yes.” Mari nodded. “I can see how that would be something you’d need to know.” Though her running away had caused much scandal at the time, she’d been unbaptized. The difference was a difficult one for outsiders to understand. Accepting baptism into the Amish church and then leaving was a terrible sin. It meant that the person had broken their faith, not only with the community but with God. That person would be formally shunned. Members could not eat with them. They could not ride in a car or a buggy driven by the shunned person and, in most cases, would not even speak to them.
Her aunt and uncle had refused to allow her to enter their home, but everyone in the county didn’t accept their strict interpretation. Many, especially Sara, felt that Mari’s family had been unnecessarily cruel, and their beliefs and actions had not prevented her from being welcomed into the Seven Poplars Amish neighborhood.
“This afternoon, I received this letter.” He handed it to Mari. “You may read it.” And to James, he said, “I’m afraid that plans for Mari’s baptism and your marriage must be called off. She can’t marry you because the current bishop states that she was already baptized into the Amish faith. Apparently, Mari made her promise to God and later went back on her word. Then she further compounded her error by coming to Seven Poplars and Sara’s home under false pretenses.” He folded his hands and placed them on the surface of the table. “I can’t offer you membership into our church community at this time. I’m not saying it’s not possible, ever. We can sit down and talk once we’ve both had time to think, but I know you understand that this changes everything.”
Mari looked at Bishop Atlee and then back at the letter. Her hands shook so hard that she could barely make out the words. But the name at the bottom of the page was plain. The signature in tiny cramped letters was her uncle’s. “My uncle wrote this?” she managed.
“Ya.” Bishop Atlee folded his hands. “He recently became the bishop of his church. As your senior relative and your religious leader, he felt that he had to share this information with us.”
She shook her head. “No. He couldn’t have. That’s not possible.” She looked down at the letter again, hoping that she’d read it wrong.
“Mari, James...I’m so sorry,” Bishop Atlee said, getting to his feet. “If you wish to discuss my decision further, I’ll be at home on Saturday afternoon.”
“There has to be some mistake,” James protested.
“There has been,” the bishop agreed. “And I’m afraid it was Mari who made it. But God is merciful. No one is beyond redemption. And if she truly repents of her rash actions, she can, in time, be forgiven.” He nodded to them both and then walked out of the barn.
James stared at Mari. She could see the heartbreak on his face. “Is it true?” he asked. “Were you baptized?”
She tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. How could he believe such a thing of her?
“I’m asking you, Mari. Say something.”
“You actually think I’d lie to Sara...to you...to everyone about whether or not I was baptized?” She pushed her hands against the table and rose to her feet. “If you think that, you don’t know me well enough to court me. And if you think that—” she choked on her tears “—you’ll never know me well enough to marry me.”
“Mari—”
Ignoring him, she ran to the door. He started after her, but she whirled on him, her face streaked with tears. “I’d believe you,” she cried. “No matter what you told me, I’d believe you.”
“Mari, please—”
“No, James. It’s over between us.”
“We have to talk about this.”
“There’s nothing more to say. I did make mistakes when I was nineteen, and I made another one when I thought we could have a future together. Goodbye, James.” She ran through the darkness toward Sara’s house.