A Change of Heart

Chapter Twenty

ALMOST TWO WEEKS PASSED, AND NOT ONLY HAD LEAH not seen Aaron, but she hadn’t worked on her latest story at all. Her father had given his blessing, so she didn’t have to hide it anymore, and yet—her heart was filled with sadness and the words didn’t seem to come. She chopped the weeds around the garden with the weed eater, and it sputtered a little. Probably running out of gas.

“Leah!” Mary Carol’s snappy tone pulled her from her musings. She let the weed eater idle.

“What?”

Mary Carol threw her hands on her hips, scowled, then pointed to the ground. “Those are not weeds! Those are greens that were almost ready to pick. Move that machine away from my garden.”

“Sorry.” Leah rolled her eyes, moved to the bench under the tree, and whacked away at the weeds climbing up the legs of the seat.

How could he have kissed me? And more than once.

Leah wasn’t sure whom she was angrier with, Aaron or herself, for stepping outside the safe pages of her books and into a real-life situation . . . one that had left her heartbroken.

She jumped when someone poked her on the back. This time she cut the motor on the weed eater.

“This was clipped to the mailbox.” Kathleen pushed an envelope in Leah’s direction.

Leah set the machine down, wiped her face with her apron, then accepted the envelope. “Who’s it from?”

Kathleen shrugged. “How would I know?” She took off across the grass toward the house, and Leah plopped herself down on the bench, the shade a welcome relief from the glaring sun.

Edna used to do the weed eating, until she found out about her asthma, so they’d switched some chores around. Leah swiped her brow, thinking she’d gotten the bad end of the deal. Edna was inside, sitting at the table in front of the fan, chopping vegetables to make chow-chow.

Leah peeled back the flap on the envelope and pulled out a small sheet of red paper. In black ink it read:

Leah,

Please meet me at our place tomorrow at noon. There is much to be said, and I miss you.

Her heart fluttered.

Then she read the next sentence:

Can you please bring lunch?

Kindest regards, Aaron

Leah stared in disbelief at the letter. Is he crazy?

First of all, she didn’t know that they had a place. Secondly, the nerve of him!

“Who’s the note from?” Mary Carol was toting a garden hoe as she approached.

Leah stood up and stomped her foot. “It’s from Aaron Lantz! And can you believe that he wrote me this note?” She showed the red piece of paper to Mary Carol. “The nerve of him to ask me to bring lunch. He barely talked to me the last time I saw him.” Leah shrugged. “Well, I reckon I’m not going.” She folded her arms across her chest.

Mary Carol burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

Her sister struggled to catch her breath. “I’ve just never seen you like this about a boy.”

“Like what?”

Mary Carol handed the letter back to Leah and grinned. “So smitten. You really like Aaron.”

“Well, I thought I did. Then he just turned very—cold. I can’t imagine why he wants to meet.” She scrunched her face up, but then couldn’t help but grin. “Maybe he just loves my chicken salad and tomato pie.”

“Somehow I doubt that’s it.” Mary Carol turned, walked back to her garden, and yelled over her shoulder, “I think you should go!”

“I’m not going!”

The next morning, Leah pulled her tomato pie from the oven, wrapped it in foil, and added it to the picnic basket, along with two chicken salad sandwiches and some chow-chow that Edna and Kathleen made the night before. She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall in the kitchen. Eleven thirty. She was going to have to ride her foot scooter to meet Aaron, since today was Mamm’s day to go to market. Leah didn’t want to prepare the larger family buggy just to go down the road a mile.

As she toted the picnic basket outside, she felt torn about Aaron’s note. As glad as she was that he wanted to see her, why the sudden change? And she couldn’t get past how bold he was being about asking her to bring lunch. Irritation and a sense of excitement swirled together as she placed their lunch inside the metal basket on the front of the scooter.

She kicked herself into motion, and just as she was rounding the corner from her driveway to the road, she saw her father plowing the fields to her right. He waved, and Leah returned the gesture, balancing herself on the foot scooter with one hand. Things were different between them now, and Leah thanked God for that blessing each day. Daed seemed to see her in a new light, accepting her for the person she was as opposed to who he thought she should be.

Warm wind blew in her face as she scooted past the abandoned Bontrager place.

Leah slowed her pace on the scooter as she turned the corner and neared the Lapp farm. Aaron was already there. His courting buggy was parked near the house, and she could see him leaning against the buggy with his ankles crossed and—

Are those flowers he’s holding?

She squinted against the sun’s glare to have a better look. Sure enough, he was toting a bouquet of flowers in his right hand. She felt a tad guilty about balking over lunch.

As she pulled into the driveway, she could see that they were roses, again wrapped in green tissue. Her heart flipped as she neared him and slowed to a stop.

“These are for you.” Aaron offered her the roses. “I’ve missed you, Leah.”

Leah accepted the flowers but avoided his eyes. “Danki.” She didn’t move from the scooter, unsure what to say or do.

“I see you brought lunch.” Aaron nodded toward the picnic basket. “That was nice.”

You told me to. She tried to push back her bitterness about that, since he’d shown up with flowers and said he’d missed her. “Chicken salad and tomato pie.” She lifted the basket out of the tray and gently set the flowers inside.

“I brought a blanket. Do you want to go back to our spot under the tree by the pond?”

“I reckon.” Leah forced a smile. He seemed genuinely glad to see her, but she still wondered what had caused him to change his mind. They started walking toward the pond, and Aaron took the basket from her. He had the blanket draped across his shoulder and a thermos in one hand.

“I remembered to bring tea this time,” she said as she eyed the silver thermos.

“We’ll have plenty to drink then.” He smiled.

Leah’s head was filled with recollections of their last time here, especially of his tender kisses. But she was leery of him now. If he’d turned on her so suddenly before . . .

When they got to the pond, Aaron spread the blanket underneath the tree and set the picnic basket and thermos in a far corner. He motioned for her to sit down.

Leah folded her legs sideways beneath her and fingered the intricate stitching on the blue and yellow quilt, with weaving vines of greenery connecting the bright flowers. Aaron sat down beside her, too close. His leg brushed against hers and sent a ripple through her. She edged back and took a deep breath.

“I finished your second book,” he said. “Like the first one, it was great.”

She smiled. “Danki.”

“Auntie Ruth said she gave your first story to your daed and suggested he read it.” Aaron scowled. “I told her I wasn’t sure if that was such a gut idea.”

“Actually, it turned out to be a very gut idea. Daed read it and decided that my stories were inspired by God, and he encouraged me to keep writing.”

“Leah, that’s great.” Aaron reached for her hand, but she pulled away. She wasn’t interested in talking about her book, her father, or anything else but why they were here.

“You said there were things to be said, Aaron. What things?” She sat up a little taller and held her head high.

“Huh? I said?” His mouth twitched slightly to one side, and he tilted his head.

“In your note to me, you said—”

“What? What note?”

Leah raised her brows. “The note you pinned to my mailbox, of course.”

Aaron rubbed his chin. “Leah, I didn’t pin any note to your mailbox.”

Leah had on her working apron, and since she’d read the note again that morning, she realized it was still in her pocket. She pulled it out and shoved it in his direction.

She waited while he seemed to read the note over and over again, shaking his head. “Leah, I didn’t write this.” He looked up at her, his eyes filled with confusion.

“What? Of course you did!” She jumped up from the blanket, put her hands on her hips, and stared down at him. “Then what are you doing here?”

Aaron lifted himself up, reached into his own pocket, and retrieved a red piece of paper just like the one Leah had just handed him. “Because you pinned a note on my mailbox.”

“I did no such thing!” She grabbed the note from his hand.

Aaron,

Please meet me at our place tomorrow at noon. There is much to be said, and I miss you.

It would be lovely if you could bring me flowers. Kindest regards, Leah

Leah handed him the note back as if it were poison. “I can assure you, I did not write that.” She brought her hand to her chest. “What must you have thought, to think that I would ask you to bring me flowers?”

Aaron shrugged, grinning. “I reckon it seemed strange, but . . .”

They both stood quietly for a few moments.

“I can think of only one person who would do this,” Aaron said.

Leah snapped her finger. “And her favorite color is red!”

They grew quiet again, both lost in amused thought.

“I wasn’t even sure what you meant by our place.” Leah giggled.

“I wasn’t sure either.” Aaron looped his thumbs in his suspenders. “And just so you know, I wouldn’t have asked you to bring lunch.”

Leah’s face soured, and she cut her eyes at him. “Because of my cooking?”

“No, no. Because it’s just, well . . . rude.”

“Looks like we have lunch, and I have flowers, and . . .” Leah folded her arms across her chest. “Why would Auntie Ruth do this?”

Aaron’s mouth twitched slightly to one side, and he avoided her eyes. “I reckon it’s because I’ve been mopin’ around a bit lately. At least that’s what Auntie Ruth said.” He looked up at Leah. “She knew I missed you.”

Leah didn’t understand at all. “But you are the one who didn’t want to spend time with me anymore.” She turned away from him. “I feel silly even being here now.”

Aaron walked up behind her, so close she could feel his breath against her neck. “I’ve always wanted to spend time with you, Leah. I just didn’t want to be your excuse to get out of the house if you weren’t feeling the same thing I was feeling.”

She spun around, putting their faces only inches apart, and her recollections of shared kisses danced in her mind. “What? Why would you say that?”

“I overheard Edna telling Abner that the only reason you were spending time with me was because your daed wouldn’t let you out of the house. I reckon it didn’t seem right. I almost didn’t come today.”

Leah looked down. “Oh no. That’s not true, Aaron.” She glanced up again. “It must have seemed that way, but I love—love spending time with you.”

“That’s gut to know.” Aaron backed away a little, his mouth twitching slightly. “Wanna eat?”

“I guess so.”

He reached for her hand, and together they sat down on the blanket. Leah opened the picnic basket and handed Aaron a sandwich, but before they took their first bite, their attention was drawn to the road. Dirt flew from beneath the horse’s hooves as Abner rounded the corner and came barreling onto the driveway, going much too fast and yelling Aaron’s name.

They stood up, abandoning the picnic, and Leah followed Aaron across the field. His quick walk turned to a run, and Leah broke into a jog behind him.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron tried to catch his breath.

Abner climbed out of the buggy and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It’s Auntie Ruth.” Abner’s forehead creased with sorrow as he spoke. “She’s gone, Aaron. Passed in her sleep while she was taking a nap. We need you at home.”