A Change of Heart

Chapter Two

MARIAN PULLED HER LONG WHITE NIGHTGOWN OVER HER head, then removed her prayer covering and allowed her wavy brown hair to fall almost to her waist. She folded the quilt on their bed to the bottom. It was much too hot for any covers . . . maybe just the light cotton sheet for tonight.

Rays of sunlight beamed through the window as the sun began its descent. It was too early for bed, but Marian wanted to give the young people some time to themselves. She was glad when James followed her upstairs after their evening devotions. As much as she ’d like to read for a while, she suspected James wanted to talk— about Leah.

Marian sat down on the bed and applied some lotion to her parched hands, then smoothed it up her arms, the cool cream a welcome relief from the heat. She was still wringing her hands together when James walked into the bedroom, his dark hair and beard still damp, his eyes filled with tiredness and concern.

“I don’t know what to do about Leah.” He stood in the middle of the room in only his black breeches.

Marian eyed her husband of twenty-one years. His broad shoulders carried the weight of his burdens. It was a sin to worry so much; that was one area in which James could learn from Leah. Their carefree, spirited daughter tested the limits at times, but Leah seldom allowed her worries to press down on her for long.

James inhaled a long, slow breath, and muscles rippled across a chest reflective of many years of hard work. “It’s not fair to the other maed when Leah shirks her responsibilities.”

“Ya, I know, James.” Marian patted a spot on the bed beside her. “Sit. And we will talk about it.”

James sat down and turned to face her. He ran a hand through her hair and twisted a few strands within his fingers. “So soft,” he whispered.

For a moment his eyes suggested that they not speak of Leah, but instead communicate with each other the way only a husband and wife can appreciate. But no sooner did the thought surface than Marian saw two deep lines of worry form on her husband’s forehead.

“I don’t like these stories she writes,” he finally said. His eyes narrowed. “They are of no use to her. I don’t understand why she tinkers with such nonsense.”

“James . . .” Marian cupped his cheek, raked a hand through his hair. “It’s not nonsense to her. She has an imagination. That’s all.”

Her husband sat taller and scowled. “It will do her no gut, this imagination of hers. These tales she pens are a waste of time, Marian.” His eyes widened. “And did you hear her at supper? She doesn’t even want to get wed.” He hung his head. “No fella I know would want to marry her.”

“James,” Marian huffed. “That’s a terrible thing to say about your maedel.”

He leaned back on his hands. “I worry that she will live with us the rest of our days.” He grinned at Marian. “You, me, and Leah.”

Marian chuckled, glad that he was making light of his worries. “No, James. She will not live with us forever. Leah is finding her way. You must give her time.”

“She is eighteen. Of proper marrying age.” He sat tall again and twisted to face Marian. “And what kind of fraa will Leah make?”

Marian shared her husband’s concerns about Leah and thought about it often.

“She cannot cook. She does not sew well.” James brought both hands to his forehead. “Leah has no hand for gardening, nor does she do a gut job cleaning haus. These are all things a fine Amish fraa must do. Instead, she writes fanciful stories that have no place in our world.”

“Now, James. You know that there are several people in our community who are writers. A few of them have even sold stories to people who print such tales. And it is allowed by the bishop, as long as the stories are wholesome and in line with our beliefs.”

“It is a waste of time and will not help Leah to find a gut husband.”

Marian heard the clippity-clop of horse hooves. She stood up and walked to the window. Abner was pulling onto the dirt driveway leading up to the house, and Aaron was with him. “Maybe she and Aaron will come upon a friendship,” Marian said. She twisted around and smiled at her husband.

James joined her at the window, and they both watched as Edna met the boys at the buggy. “Edna will be a fine fraa,” James said. “And Mary Carol too. Even young Kathleen will make a gut wife.”

Marian patted James on the arm. “Leah will make a home with someone when she’s ready.”

“Where is Leah?” James pressed his face close to the window and peered against the sun’s bright rays.

“Hmm. I don’t see her.”

James grunted. “Probably writing in that notebook she takes everywhere. Maybe you best go tell her that company is here.”

“There she is.” Marian was relieved to see Leah slowly making her way across the yard toward Edna and the boys. “Everything will be fine, James.”

James twisted his mouth to one side. “I hope so.”

Aaron stepped out of the buggy, waved at Edna, and then fixed his eyes on the lovely Leah. She was taller than most of the women he knew, but Aaron still towered over her by several inches. Her soft brown eyes, always brimming with curiosity, met briefly with his. He loved the way her two tiny dimples were visible even when she wasn’t smiling, a detail that softened her expression even when she was deep in thought.

He remembered when he saw her walk into the small schoolhouse on their first day of class, her eyes twinkling with wonder and awe. She asked more questions than any of the other students, and everyone wanted to be her friend. It stayed that way until their graduation from the eighth grade, but Aaron never seemed to be in her circle of friends, nor did she seem to notice him at the Sunday singings when they got older. But he wasn’t the shy boy of his youth anymore.

If he took into account everything that he knew about Leah, he should not be considering a courtship, no matter how much she intrigued him. From what he’d heard from his sisters, the girl was flighty and irresponsible, couldn’t cook, couldn’t garden, couldn’t even use a needle and thread successfully. Yet his heart skipped a beat at the mere mention of her name.

“I brewed a fresh batch of meadow tea,” Edna said as she batted her eyes in Abner’s direction. “Let’s sit on the porch.” She swung her arm in that direction.

“Hello, Leah.” Aaron got into pace alongside her. “Danki for inviting me.” He smiled with enough hopefulness for both of them, but Leah’s eyes widened with surprise. She twisted her head in Edna’s direction, and Aaron knew he wasn’t supposed to see the scowl on her face. Too late.

“Sure,” Leah said when she turned her face back to his. Her lips curled upward, but it was a sorry attempt to rectify her initial response.

Aaron glowered in his brother’s direction. A guilty expression flashed across Abner’s face as he moved his shoulders in a shrug of innocence. Aaron had wondered why Leah invited him over, since he’d been trying unsuccessfully to get her attention. Twice he’d offered to take her home after a Sunday singing, and she’d politely declined. During worship service, he was guilty of letting his mind drift and trying to make eye contact with her. Nothing.

He’d get hold of Abner later, but for now he’d have to make the best of things and try to convince Leah that he was worth her time.

Aaron was the last one to walk up the steps and onto the porch. Four high-back rockers were lined up across the wooden planks, a small table between each pair of chairs. Four glasses of tea were waiting for them.

“Help yourselves,” Edna said. She slid into the rocker at the far end of the porch, and Abner sat down in the chair closest to her. Aaron waited until Leah eased her way into one of the seats before he got comfortable in the rocker next to hers. He removed his straw hat, placed it in his lap, and reached for a glass of tea. Beads of sweat trickled from his forehead as he gulped the cool beverage, and he could feel moisture on his shirt, particularly where his suspenders met with the blue cotton fabric.

He raised his eyes above the glass. The others were swigging their tea as well. This was the hottest summer Aaron could recall. Or maybe he just thought that every year when the scorching August heat settled in. Leah was gazing above the rim of her glass toward the pasture. A dozen cows grazed in the meadow as the sun began to set behind one of the crimson barns.

The Petersheim farm was one of the oldest homesteads in their district. Five generations had grown up in the two-hundred-year-old house with its two stories and wraparound porch. The tin roof was painted the same color as the red barns, and a fresh coat of white paint on the clapboard masked the structure’s true age. Over six hundred acres surrounded the house; James Petersheim was one of the few farmers who didn’t have to supplement his income by working as a carpenter or in another trade outside of the community.

Aaron set his glass down and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Leah, did you know that Aaron works with Abner at their father’s furniture store?” Edna leaned forward in the chair.

This is a pitiful attempt at small talk, Aaron thought as he waited for Leah to respond. Of course she knows.

“Ya, I did know that.” She glanced briefly at Aaron, forced a half smile, then pushed her bare feet against the porch, sending the rocker into motion and her dark purple dress flowing at her shins.

“Abner said you like to write stories,” he said cautiously. The subject had come up at supper one night when Edna was a guest in their home. Both Edna and Abner seemed to think such a hobby was a waste of time, as did everyone else at the table, including Aaron. But when Leah’s eyes began to twinkle, Aaron was glad he had brought it up.

“Ya, I do.” She twisted slightly in her chair to face him and seemed to come alive as her whole face spread into a smile. “Do you write? Stories, books, or maybe poems?”

She looked so hopeful, but Aaron didn’t have time for such silliness. “No, I don’t.” As soon as her expression went grim, he added, “But I like to read—whenever I have time.”

Her response came quickly. “What do you read?”

“I, uh—I read the Bible, mostly.”

She gave a nod of approval, then shifted her weight back to an upright position, as she’d been before he sparked her interest.

“We’re going to take a walk,” Edna said. She stood up from her chair and waited for Abner to do the same.

Aaron waited until they were out of earshot. “What do you write about?”

Her eyes narrowed skeptically, as if she didn’t believe he was really interested. He was interested in anything that would help him get to know Leah better.

After a moment, she said, “The Englisch.”

“Huh?” Surely that isn’t allowed. “You write stories about outsiders? Why?” He stared at her.

“Why do you find this so odd? They write about us all the time.” She shook her head and sighed. “And most of the time, they don’t get it right.”

Aaron folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to one side. “Then why do you think you can get it right about them? You don’t know nothin’ about living in the Englisch world.”

“I know that many of them don’t know God.” Her voice was sad as she spoke. “I write about Englisch people who are trying to have a relationship with God. Maybe it will make a difference to someone someday, help them find their way to the Lord.” She got a hint of mischief in her eyes. “And there’s always a happy ending!”

Aaron had to admit, he was fascinated by her effort to help others find a way to the Lord through her tales, but it wasn’t something they were taught to do. “The Ordnung doesn’t teach us to minister to those outside of our community, Leah, if that’s what you’re trying to do with these books.” He liked the way her name slid off his tongue. “I reckon it’s not our place—Leah.”

“Why?”

“It just ain’t.”

They sat quietly for a few moments, but Aaron still had questions. “Where do these stories of yours take place? In an Amish district or in the Englisch world?”

“In the Englisch world and in Amish communities. You don’t have to be Amish to have a strong faith and a relationship with God.” Her eyes glowed with a sense of strength and purpose, and while her efforts were misdirected, he’d never been more attracted to her. But had she forgotten the one thing that almost always divided them from outsiders?

“Leah, we believe that all things are of God’s will. I don’t think most of the Englisch share our faith, dedication, and interpretation of the Bible.”

“They do in my stories when I’m done with them,” she said smoothly. Then she winked at him and set his heart to fluttering.

“How many have you penned?”

“I’m working on my third. They aren’t as long as full-sized books. I mostly write at night after Edna goes to sleep, by the light of a small flashlight. It takes a long time to write longhand. I know that some of the writers in our district have typewriters. Not electric, but I suspect it’s still faster than using an ink pen and paper. Someday I hope to have one.”

“It seems like it would be hatt to write about the Englisch ways.”

“I’m still in my rumschpringe, so the rules are relaxed enough to allow me time in the city, just like you. I have two Englisch girlfriends that I meet for lunch, and they help me with things about their world that I don’t understand.”

“It’s interesting. Your writing.” Aaron rubbed his chin for a moment. He wanted to ask her if she’d be better off learning to cook, garden, and sew, but instead he said, “Who will read these books?”

She took a sip of her tea, then placed the glass back on the table and shrugged. “I don’t know.” Her eyes lost their sparkle for a moment. “Maybe my two friends. Clare and Donna. That’s their names. I hope they’ll read my stories someday. They are such dear friends, but they seem to struggle with their faith.” She paused, and her eyes became hopeful. “Do you want to read one?”

His body became rigid as he straightened in the chair. I reckon not. Aaron could barely fit his chores and devotions into his day in time to get a decent night’s sleep. Of course he didn’t have time to read her ramblings. “I’d be honored to read one of your stories,” he said.

Leah was instantly on her feet. “I’ll give you the shortest one to start off with.”

Thank You, Lord.

Wait. Start off with? Did she expect him to read all of them?

“This is wonderful.” Her eyes gleamed as she spoke, and her tiny dimples expanded as her face spread into a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Aaron watched her dart into the house and wondered what he’d gotten himself into.

When she returned barely a minute later, he stifled a gasp as she handed him a stack of lined white paper bound by two rubber bands. It was almost two inches thick.

“No one has ever read anything I’ve written. This is my shortest story. About a hundred and twenty pages.” She lifted her shoulders, dropped them, and grinned. “How long do you think it will take you to read it?”

What? Probably forever. “Ach, I reckon I could finish it by—”

“By the Sunday singing at the Grabers’ this weekend?” Her voice bubbled with hope, but Aaron knew he’d have to disappoint her. It was already Wednesday.

“Maybe . . .” She drew out the word, and her eyes batted with mischief. “You could pick me up and we could go together, if you’d like. We could talk about the story on the way to the singing.”

Aaron reminded himself that he wasn’t the shy, bashful boy who’d watched Leah from afar during the school years. He’d just tell her that he was much too busy to fit her ramblings into his schedule. He had his work at the furniture store and his chores at home.

She flashed a smile in his direction.

“I—I think that sounds great, Leah,” he said, then sighed.

It would be a long week. He hoped she was worth it.