Almost Amish Part 12

Susan put a second checker on top of Angie's, but her mind was no longer on the game. I thought you might be mad and you never asked pinged around inside her head over and over and over again. Hours later, as she lay in bed beneath the blue-and-white quilt, the words had gained in volume, making it impossible to sleep. Were there other things she didn't know about her daughter?

"Okay, ladies. I think today we'll try to finish this one up, and maybe next session we'll start on something a little more complicated." Rosemary held a magnifying gla.s.s up to a section of st.i.tches, then looked up at Julie. "This is nice work. Haven't seen many folks pick it up this quickly."

Julie couldn't stop her smile. "Thanks. I've been practicing in my spare time."

"It shows."

"In my case, you've probably never seen anyone pick this up quite so slowly." Whitney shook her head and stared down at a knot in her thread. "I just don't get it. How can I be so utterly bad at something?"

"Don't give up; you'll learn it in time." Rosemary moved to help her. "You're the one that came up with our color pattern for the quilt, and you cut the straightest edges of anyone."

"Big whoop. I'm the great straight-edge cutter." Whitney sort of sighed as she pushed the needle through the fabric again.

"You say that like it's not important, but someone has to do the cutting. It doesn't matter how well your mama sews if the pieces aren't cut out, or if they're cut so poorly they won't line up. Never let someone make you feel like whatever gift you have is less important than someone else's. Do you know who Stephen is from the Bible?"

Whitney looked up. "Sure. He was the first martyr."

"Hmm." Rosemary rocked forward in her chair and leaned toward Whitney. "He was that. But do you know what he was before?"

"One of the disciples, I guess."

"Do you know what his job was?"

"Teaching people about Jesus, right? I mean, that's why they killed him."

"He was a waiter."

"Huh?"

Rosemary began a slow rock. "The Greek believers started complaining to the apostles that their widows were being overlooked in the distribution of food. You know how that goes-get a large group of people together and there's always someone who thinks something is unfair, and maybe it was." She stared toward the wall as if seeing the scene right through it, slowly shaking her head as she did. "Maybe it was."

"So what happened?" Whitney asked, her sewing temporarily forgotten in her lap.

"The twelve basically said, *We've been called to teach and to pray, not to wait tables,' but-and here's the important part, don't miss it-they didn't say that waiting tables or feeding widows was not important. They said, *Appoint seven men to head up the food distribution, men that are full of wisdom and the Holy Spirit.' "

"And Stephen was one of those men?"

Rosemary nodded. "Yep. Sure was." She rocked back, then forward, then back again. "Waiting tables doesn't sound terribly important in the scheme of things, does it? Yet it freed the apostles up to do what it was they were supposed to do. And Stephen didn't just wait tables; he served G.o.d with all his heart. And G.o.d rewarded that by enabling him to perform great signs and wonders, just like the apostles. But, my point is, as much as we all think of the apostles being the most important, I'm saying that they would not have been effective if those in jobs of lesser honor had not performed the work they were called to do. So if cutting straight edges is your call and st.i.tching is your mother's, then I say they're both important. Don't you?"

Whitney nodded. "I guess so. But I still wish I could st.i.tch better."

"You keep practicing, and you'll get better at it."

Julie rocked back and forth, considering what Rosemary had just said. She knew there was wisdom in the words, but she wished that somehow G.o.d would just show her what it was she did well, what it was that she was supposed to do. Somehow she didn't think a nice hand-st.i.tch was going to serve her well when she reentered the real world.

Chapter 20.

Rosemary's story and things she'd been saying about giftedness didn't leave Julie. In fact, it nagged her, roiling around and making it impossible to enjoy Susan's baked chicken and mashed potatoes. Even the perfectly prepared green beans, picked from their garden not five minutes before cooking, didn't tempt her the way they usually did. They just all reminded her how much that seemed to be Susan's gift. Along with keeping a spotless house. And keeping her daughter well on track to being accepted to any college in the country.

Sure Julie could hand-st.i.tch better than most twenty-first-century beginners to hand-st.i.tching, but what did that matter, really? Back home she felt as though she spent most of her time in a chaotic fog, always reacting to things, but never acting with a purpose. Busy, but accomplis.h.i.+ng nothing. It was a never-ending cycle that left her exhausted yet unfulfilled.

"Okay, I think we need to get ready for youth group. Can I go ahead and start doing my part of was.h.i.+ng the dishes?" Angie turned the full force of her huge chocolate eyes on Susan.

"Angie, we haven't even finished eating yet."

"Well, I have. And we need to leave in a little while, and I really want to change clothes before we go, and I know I'm supposed to be the one who cleans out the pots and pans tonight. So can I go ahead and get started, please? I'll still be able to talk to everyone and everything." Angie cut her eyes in Whitney's direction for less than a second, but Julie noticed the unvoiced plea.

"Yeah, Mom, me too. It takes awhile to get all this done, and we want to make certain we get to youth group on time, so . . ." She stuffed the last bite of chicken in her mouth and stood up. "Come on, Angie, I'm finished eating, too. Let's get this done together."

"Wait a minute." Susan c.o.c.ked her head back and smiled. "I get it now. There's a boy, isn't there? There's a boy you like at youth group, and that's why you're wanting the extra time to get ready."

Angie turned pink, but she shook her head. "Mom, I can tell you beyond the shadow of a doubt that you are mistaken. There is not a single boy in that youth group that interests me."

There could be no doubting the sincerity in her voice, and Julie knew that she was telling the truth. The trick was in the wording. There wasn't a boy in the youth group that interested Angie. She didn't say anything about the wors.h.i.+p band, or their driver for the evening.

By the time she heard the horses clomping up the driveway, Julie was having trouble staying awake. Susan sat in the rocking chair, recipe books in her lap, working out their menus for the next few days. Julie had been writing in her journal and reading in the Psalms, searching for something that would give her some guidance about gifts. She had found none. "I think I'll go out and welcome the kids home."

"Mmm-hmmm." Susan didn't even look up from her task.

Julie walked out the kitchen door just as the kids were starting to climb down from the carriage. As she suspected, Angie was sitting next to the driver, and after Chris jumped out, he reached up his hand and helped her down. Whitney and Brian exited the other side.

As soon as Whitney noticed Julie she ran up to her. "Hey, Mom, have you talked to Kendra about me working with the Kids' Club? They're short several people, and they really need my help tomorrow night."

"I really haven't."

"Can you please just tell her I have to do it? You know that's something I always wanted to do in Santa Barbara, but practice got in the way. Now that I'm not getting the benefit of team practice, at least make them let me do something worthwhile with my time."

"You really love working with kids, don't you?"

Whitney nodded. "Yes."

"I'll talk to Kendra first thing in the morning and tell her it's something you're going to do. It's a good thing, and it's something you're really good at." It was one of Whitney's gifts. One of many gifts that Whitney possessed and used whenever possible. How was it that even Julie's kids seemed to understand their place in the world, and Julie herself did not? She knew that if she couldn't change that, she had no hope of ever being truly happy.

The sun still lit up the entire hillside as Susan put the last of the dinner dishes into the cupboard. The window air-conditioning units were no match for the Tennessee summer heat and a wood stove. She wiped her forehead. "Whew. A few more nights like this and we'll be having raw vegetables the rest of the summer."

"Some Amish have what they call summer kitchens, which are not directly attached to the house," Angie explained as she wiped the last spot off the countertop. "And a lot of them also move their living area into the bas.e.m.e.nt during the summer months, where it's cooler."

"And is this what fictional Amish do, or the real ones?"

"Mom, you know that most novelists try to stick to facts on those kinds of things as much as possible. Besides, I said some, not all." She folded up the towel and hung it over the rack. "Can I ride with Whitney tonight when she goes into town?"

"You mean, work at the Kids' Club with her?"

"No, I wasn't planning on staying-that's more Whitney's thing than mine-but I enjoy getting out for a nice buggy ride in the evenings. It's . . . nice."

Susan thought about the young man who drove them to youth group, his too-long artificially black hair, and his anti-establishment look. She did not want her daughter riding alone with him on the way back from dropping off Whitney at the housing complex. Then again, she really didn't want Whitney going alone with him, either. "Let me think about that. Perhaps the entire family should ride along-you know, spend some time together."

"No!" Angie's answer came out very fast and very loud. She paused just a moment before continuing. "I mean . . . no . . . there's no need for everyone to go, just because I want to get out."

Susan turned to lean against the counter and look at her daughter. It seemed like she was up to something, but there was very little she could get into at this point. Still, there was enough of a nagging doubt that she wasn't willing to hand over free rein. "You're right, we don't want to inconvenience everyone."

Angie's breath came out in one slow, relieved expulsion. "That's exactly what I think."

"But I've been wanting to get out and go for more rides anyway, so I'll come along with you. Just me. Then no one else is inconvenienced on our behalf."

"But, Mo-om . . ."

The sound of footsteps coming up the back steps stopped the conversation. The screen porch door creaked open and seconds later Gary could be seen standing at the kitchen door, preparing to knock. Susan opened the door before he raised his hand.

He looked up, surprised, and then grinned. "Well, h.e.l.lo there. And how is everyone this beautiful evening?"

Susan nodded. "Fine. We were just having a talk about riding into town with Whitney. Is Chris about ready to take her, do you know?"

"Nope he's not. This is his night off, and so I'm the official chauffeur for the evening. Did you say that you were planning on riding with us?"

"Well, I . . . Angie and I were just talking about riding, but I . . ."

"You know what? I think I really need to stay here and work on some schoolwork. I'll just run up and see if Whitney is ready." Angie disappeared before Susan could argue.

"Well, I don't have to come along. . . ." How much more awkward could this be?

"Please do. I was planning on running a few errands in town while she's at the Kids' Club. Would you like to hit Walmart with me? We can hitch our horse and buggy to the post beside the real Amish."

Just the thought of going somewhere familiar, and modern, sounded wonderful. "I'd love it. Julie, don't you want to come with us, too?" Julie had been talking about a trip into town for several days now.

Julie shook her head. "Not this evening. I want to work on my quilt and do some journaling."

"I'm ready." Whitney bounded into the room.

Gary smiled. "You seem excited."

Whitney nodded. "The only problem is I'm afraid the little kids will see me in these clothes and think I'm weird, and they won't want anything to do with me."

"I'd say a girl with your personality could overcome anything, especially a minor fas.h.i.+on issue. Those kids are going to love you." He opened the back kitchen door and held it. "Shall we, ladies?"

Quickly enough they were out in the buggy and on their way. Whitney fell quiet for the first time since they'd arrived-probably feeling awkward sharing a ride with them-and so they all rode in silence, accompanied only by the soothing clack of horse hooves. After a long half hour, they pulled up in front of the apartment complex. A group of small children came running out. "Horsies are here, horsies are here."

Gary hopped down and walked around the buggy, smiling toward the group. "Who wants to give him a carrot or two? I just happen to have some in my pocket." He pulled a plastic bag out of his jeans pocket, which held several carrot pieces.

Whitney took a deep breath, smoothed down her skirt, and said, "Wish me luck."

Susan reached over and squeezed her arm. "You'll be amazing." A group of teenagers walked past on the far side of the road, headed toward town. They were laughing a bit too loud, making it seem to Susan they were more concerned about appearing to have a good time rather than actually having one. Things were so hard at this age. She was thankful that Angie was doing so well in spite of the divorce and all the changes. Still, she couldn't help but worry about her.

Gary climbed back up into the buggy. "All right, next stop."

A few minutes later, they walked through Walmart's long aisles, and for a few minutes Susan felt utterly overwhelmed. Having been isolated for a few weeks, it seemed huge and loud and crowded.

Gary picked up the items he was after, and then went to stand in the self-checkout line. "You seem distracted."

Susan shrugged. "I'm just a little worried about Angie, is all. You know, teenagers. That's their job, to keep their mothers distracted and worried."

He laughed. "Yes, I think you're right. Tell you the truth, it doesn't get a lot better when they get older. My oldest daughter is twenty-seven. She just went through a nasty divorce. The whole thing just ate me up." He shook his head. "Only thing you can do is just trust them to G.o.d."

"That one's easier said than done sometimes."

"You won't get an argument from me there." He picked up the plastic bags filled with tools and sandpaper and started toward the door. "Angie has a good head on her shoulders, though. I wouldn't worry overmuch about her. She'll be just fine."

"I hope so."

They made the return ride also in silence as Susan turned the words over and over in her head. She had no idea how long they'd been riding when Gary reached over and put his hand on top of hers. It jolted her out of her thoughts, at least for long enough to be shocked. "You know, you can talk to me about anything. I'd like to help you in any way I can."

Susan looked down at his tanned hand, still resting atop hers, and for just a brief moment allowed herself to think about how nice it would be to share some of her burden, not carry the entire load by herself. But that wasn't reality-not her reality anyway. In her reality, Gary was just a hired hand who knew nothing about the struggles she faced. Still, his offer stirred something inside her that made it impossible to rebuff him completely. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

He pulled his hand away and clucked at the horse. As they reached the apartment complex, the sounds of laughter and squeals grew louder and louder.

"The horsies are back. The horsies are back." Several kids ran toward them until one of the counselors called them back.

"Bye, everyone, see you next week." Whitney waved as she started toward them.

A little girl broke free of the group, ran up, and threw her arms around Whitney. "I wuv you, Whitney."

"I love you too, Jasmine." She returned the hug before sending the girl back to the group. She was still waving after she climbed into the buggy. They started moving and immediately Whitney said, "I think that might have been the best night of my life! You know, they didn't even notice my weird clothes. All they cared about was having someone to give them a little attention. None of the other stuff really seemed to matter."

Somehow it all came out in one breath.

"Too bad the rest of the world's not a little more like that. Hmm?" asked Gary.

"Yeah." Whitney yawned. "That was fun, but I'm beat. Tomorrow morning's going to come a little too early for me."

They pulled up beside the house, and the lights were all off downstairs. "Looks like everyone else must be worn out, too," Gary said.

Susan climbed down from the buggy. "Thanks for taking me with you. It was nice to get out."

"I enjoyed the company. Maybe we can do it again next week?"

Chapter 21.