“Which translates to something skimpy,” Ella informed the group with mockery.
I really hated her—the way I hated poison ivy or waking up to discover I’d gotten my period. At that moment I wanted to slap the smug grin off her snobby face, and I was pretty close to doing it, but the tiny sensible part of my brain yelled, “Don’t do it, that’s what she wants, to get a reaction from you, so you look bad in front of Noah and all the other Amish.” I could control myself, and I wasn’t going to stoop to this snake’s level.
Ignoring her comment, I said to the others as amicably as possible, “Maybe sometime you all could come to a performance in Cincinnati to see for yourselves.”
“Oh, I don’t think we’d be allowed to do that,” Maretta said quietly.
No surprise there. “Don’t you ever have dances with boys?” Seeing their shocked faces and remembering what Noah had said, I modified the question quickly. “I mean, when you’re all…older?” I fumbled.
“The bishop and the ministers would never allow us to dance with the boys,” Suzanna said with a thick coat of resentment in her voice.
“And who are the bishop and the ministers?” I figured this was a good opportunity to fish for more information about Noah’s life.
“The bishop is the leader of our church and we have three ministers who are right below him. Together they make the rules and decide the punishment if the rules are broken,” Sarah said in a hushed voice after she glanced around first.
The way Sarah anxiously scanned the room put my nerves on edge, but I plowed on with my reconnaissance mission anyway. “If your elders are so strict, how do you go about dating someone?”
Sarah, who I was beginning to see was the Amish teenage-girl equivalent to the president, answered, “When we turn sixteen, we’re old enough to join the church youth group and go to all its functions. When we decide we really like someone—” here she paused and smiled “—enough to marry, we tell our parents. Then the couple has to go before the church with their intentions. Once they officially join the church, then they’re allowed to begin courting.” Speaking about the matter had given her face a healthy pink blush.
That’s complicated, I pondered. Then something occurred to me, prompting me to ask, “Do you mean…that you’re not allowed to date someone unless you want to marry that person and then you’re forced to join the church first?” The entire premise was distorted and sounded more like sexual bribery to me.
“Yes, that’s the way it works,” Sarah said smoothly.
I concentrated on what she said for over for a minute. After sipping some water, I ventured another question. “What are you allowed to do when you’re courting—I mean, do you get to ever be alone and, you know…make out?”
All the girls, except the wicked Ella, giggled and blushed deeply, including Sarah, whose skin was a darker shade of pink now, almost red, poor thing. She answered, “Well, we see each other at the youth functions and family activities…and…every Sunday, when a couple are courting, the boy goes to the girl’s house in the evening.” She paused and swiftly glanced around again before lowering her body over the table. I had to lean in close to hear her whisper, “And then the parents go to bed around ten or eleven o’clock and the couple gets some alone time. ’Cept our community has a hands-off policy for courting.”
Seeing the confusion that must have showed on my face and the way my lips were pursed to question her, she said quickly, “Oh, that means that the boys and girls aren’t supposed to touch each other at all during courting. But some of the kids get around the rules,” she whispered, a frown developing on her mouth and her eyes darting toward Suzanna and back to me again.
I ran the information around in my head for a few seconds and then blurted out, probably louder than the girls would have liked, “Do you mean that you girls aren’t allowed to kiss your boyfriends—or even hold hands?” Good grief, Noah was already breaking the rules.
Before any of the shocked girls could attempt a reply, Dad’s cell phone went off. I saw him fluidly answer it and walk through the basement door to the outside. I was used to that; he always had someone calling him. But many of the Amish watched him depart and my brain switched gears wondering if they thought he was rude or whether they understood that the call might be important since he was a doctor.
The girls were now quietly finishing the last of their meals or sipping their water to avoid any more talk of kissing boys. One good thing that had come from the conversation, though—obviously Noah hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss any of these girls. I felt better already.
The hand on my shoulder gave me a start, until Dad leaned down close to my ear and whispered, “I’m heading to the hospital. You and your brothers can stay until nine o’clock, but then I want you guys home, packing for your trip to Cincinnati tomorrow. Remember…you have to leave the house by 6:00 a.m. to make it there in time for dance camp.” He stood back up and hesitated, saying, “If I don’t see you tonight, you have a good time and be careful.” Then he bent down and pecked the top of my head with his lips before walking away.
“See ya on Saturday,” I called out before he got too far away.
Turning, he smiled and said, “Say hi to your aunt and uncle for me.”
Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was almost seven o’clock, and in a sudden swirl of activity the girls were getting up and clearing the tables. Several of the men began to move the tables and set the benches up like church pews. Very efficiently and systematically the room transitioned from a dining hall to a church building. A long table was left in front of the makeshift pews and I wondered about it.
I also wondered what it would be like not seeing Noah for a whole week. Boldly glancing around as I rose from the table, I saw him in a serious conversation with Sam. At one point he glanced over at me and so did Sam. It was weird, but then maybe Noah had overheard Dad talking to me about the trip and was asking Sam about it.
Personally, I hadn’t even thought about dance camp the past few days. I guess I’d been way too preoccupied with Noah. A week ago, I’d been immensely looking forward to the trip back to Cincinnati, getting to hang out with my friends and spend a week dancing.
Now, I sort of…kind of had a boyfriend. Well, at least I had someone to occasionally hold hands with and sometimes make eye contact with. So that made all the difference in the world. I could only imagine how the week would drag on now. All bummed out, I trailed along behind the girls to the kitchen for the “female” duties.
Doing the dishes and putting the leftover food away went faster than I would have imagined with all the well-trained girls working in sync. And even I had to admit it wasn’t so bad doing the work when everyone did it together. I was somewhat entranced watching the girls flutter around me. They took the work seriously, remaining relatively silent the entire time, having specific jobs that they did with smooth precision. I, on the other hand, was completely out of my element. I had to constantly ask Sarah, Katie or one of the other girls where to put this or what to do with that. But, to give myself credit, I was at least trying to be helpful.
When the girls finished, they immediately went to the long table in the front I had wondered about earlier and began sitting down—all on one side, of course. Sarah guided me to the bench closest to the table and motioned for me to sit down. The girls’ backs were to me, and I had a pretty good idea about where the guys were going to sit when they started filing in and taking their places. I instantly wondered if there was any significance to whom they sat across from, but when I saw that Katie wasn’t directly in front of Jacob, I gathered it must be random.
Sam sat down on the bench next to me. I whispered into his thick blond hair, “What’s going on?”
“Singing time,” he said with a piratical smile.
I swiveled in my seat to see where Justin was. I spied him in the very back, sitting in the middle of a long line of barely pubescent boys. He’d clearly been accepted into their pack. The rest of the benches were filling
up, and an ancient gray-haired woman sat close beside me. She handed me a hymnal with a toothless smile.
After a quick glance through the book, I elbowed Sam and shoved the book into his hands, pointing to the German words. He rolled his eyes and began to flip through it as if he were going to learn a new language in the next minute.
Up to this point I had purposely not looked for Noah, but the anxiety was gnawing at me, and I couldn’t wait any longer, so I succumbed and surveyed the table. I was inwardly and blissfully aware that he’d taken a seat almost across from where I was sitting and nowhere near Ella.
As a matter of fact, he was going to have a difficult time avoiding my face, and while I stared at him, I could see his cheeks flush slightly and his lips twitch. His eyes lowered to the table and he was desperately fighting a smile that I somehow knew would be directed at me if unleashed.
Then his eyes lifted again for a brief second, causing my blood to rush through my veins, and now I was the one with the red face. I focused on the hymnal, deciding to try to learn German with Sam—definitely easier than looking at Noah.
An old man, very tall and distinguished looking, with a long gray beard stood up stiffly and began speaking in his language to the crowd. Of course, I had no idea what he was saying, but studying his Abraham Lincoln features, I guessed he must be the bishop. He did look rather grumpy. I could understand why the Amish kids would be scared to provoke him. Seeing the young people in front of me with their heads bowed, I suddenly realized they were praying, and I quickly lowered my head.
There was a long, boring pause after the prayer, until one of the boys sitting at the table said something and everyone started searching through their hymnals. Sam looked at me and I shrugged with ignorance until the nice old lady next to me showed us her open hymnal. Sam quickly found the page.
The boy who had called out the number began singing the song, and after a few words, the rest of them joined in. No instruments were used, and the song was the most somber tune I’d ever heard. The voices harmonized well, but the singers lacked any enthusiasm at all. They could have benefited greatly from a Southern gospel choir showing them how it was done. Listening to the music drone on, I came to the conclusion that not being able to understand any of it didn’t help the song’s appeal either.
Poor Sam tried a few of the words and then gave up, handing the book to me. Holding the hymnal out in front of me and making an effort of participation, or at least the appearance of it, I let my my thoughts stray to the youth sitting at the table. They must all be courting age, I surmised. This whole singing event was a way to play matchmaker. My eyes were pulled back to Noah. I couldn’t help watching his full lips barely move while he sang the words. Watching his mouth sent an electric current through my veins, and I had to look away, chewing my own lip to avoid the irritating feeling.
When the song finished, there was another long and silent break before the next number was called out. This time it was a girl’s voice. She started the lyrics out and soon everyone joined her. It sounded exactly like the other song. Hardly any change in tempo or rhythm. Actually, the song didn’t really have any rhythm that I could tap my foot to.
This went on for almost an hour, and I started to think how torturous it was. My butt was sore from the hard benches and my back was killing me from sitting up straight for so long. The air in the basement was warm and still, making me feel sleepy. I fought the urge to close my eyes and took a deep breath. Out of curiosity and boredom, I scanned the room to see how everyone else was handling the discomfort. To my chagrin, they all seemed perfectly fine—hardly any slouching. The only thing I could imagine was that doing this for hours and hours every Sunday since birth had configured their bodies for the harsh treatment. Or I was really sitting among a bunch of bodies that had been taken over by aliens. Either way, it was very unsettling.
At last we seemed to be nearing the end when everyone started shifting around in their seats. I was filled with happiness, the tired cloud suddenly lifting from my mind, until I saw that different books were being passed down the line. No freak’n way. I didn’t think I could take much more of this. When I eyed Sam, I saw that the weakling had fallen asleep! With a sharp jab of my elbow in his ribs, he bolted awake and gave me a dirty look, which I ignored, handing him the new book.
Seeing the book was in English, my interest was aroused. Well, this was more like it. At least I could sing along now. That should improve the torment slightly.
Hearing the next number called out, my head snapped up. It was Noah’s voice. Quickly thumbing to the page, I was immediately delighted. It was one of my favorites, “Amazing Grace.” Noah started the song off in the same fashion the others had, and surprisingly, his voice was nice—level and masculine. I joined in enthusiastically this time, and even Sam sang along. The version was not like any I’d sung before, very reserved and slow, but it was obvious everyone liked it.
When the song was over, the pointy-faced bishop stood and recited another very long prayer in Dutch. When the prayer ended, there was a sudden frenzy of movement, startling me, when everyone jumped up and began passing the books back down to women waiting to collect them. In a blur, the boys rushed out of the basement single file and the girls followed them. Watching the mass exodus, I was a little at a loss of what to do, so instead of hurrying to join the Amish kids, I stood and leisurely stretched my arms over my head. I cringed at the sound of all my joints popping.
Noah was heading for the door with the others at a much slower pace, and before crossing the threshold he paused and glanced back at us. When he saw that we weren’t running to join them, he hesitated at the door and then abruptly turned and strode back to us. Well, actually, he walked straight to Sam, without even breathing in my direction.
He asked Sam, “You both are coming outside to play volleyball, aren’t you?” His voice had an anxious, almost pleading sound to it, causing me to smile just a little.
Sam turned to me. “What time did Dad say we should head home?”
“About nine,” I answered placidly.
Sam shrugged and said, “You bet. Let’s go.”
As we were walking out of the basement, Noah held a position a step behind Sam so he was closer to me, but he still gave no acknowledgment that I existed. As annoying as it was to be ignored, I was beginning to get used to the weird behavior. I silently trekked behind him through the grassy yard and over to the volleyball nets.
There were four extremely battered nets, and they were set up in a long line across the thick green carpet. The teenagers were spreading out, claiming sides already. And of course, the girls had their own nets and the boys had theirs. No potential battle of the sexes here. And no surprises with this group, I thought as I wandered over to the closest “girl” net and took up a position near Suzanna, who honored me with an exaggeratedly elated smile that clued me in that she was happy I was on her team.
I noticed Noah had joined the boy team closest to me and had settled on the side of the net right beside where I was standing. I caught his gaze for a second when he dared to look my way. An almost smile rose on his lips and I smiled back big. I was personally getting tired of all the avoidance. What I really wanted to do more that anything was walk over to him and in front of everyone, take his hand and lead him out to the barn where we could get that kiss out of the way.
I blushed at the idea and then chuckled at my slinky imagination, dropping my head. Such daydreams weren’t doing me a bit of good. Noah might be flirting around with me, but in reality, he was unreachable. I needed to get it through my thick skull before I made a complete fool of myself—or worse yet, got my heart broke.
The air suddenly became cooler as the sun dipped low enough to shade the yard, clearing my gloomy thoughts. I looked down, considering my dress. How the heck was I going to play volleyball with this on? At least all the girls had the same disadvantage, but it was still mildly ridiculous. With a sigh, I kicked off my sandals and joined the barefoot movement.
I was athletic and had played volleyball in gym class too many times to count, so it wasn’t a surprise that within a minute I had given our team a point. Suzanna high-fived me with a smack that left my palm stinging red, and I finally got the first peek into how these kids released some of their pent-up energy. A few of the girls were really sporty, and although I didn’t see any of them crash into the ground the way I did a couple of times, they were running around with abandon, seriously trying to get the ball.
Sarah was on our team, too, and she commented, “You’re really good at this, Rose. You have to always be on our team!”
Her saying that made me wonder if I’d be invited to these events every Sunday or if this was a one-shot deal. It would be a bore to sit through the singing again, but the volleyball part was more than okay.
The last time I hit the ground saving the ball, I managed to smear grass clippings all over the front of my dress, and while I was attempting to brush them off, the ball from Noah’s game flew into my chest hard, bumping me back a step. It happened so quickly I barely knew what hit me.