Trading Secrets (17 page)

I
feel like a new woman when I finally emerge from my shower wearing a fresh set of clothes, which look much more feminine than anything I've worn for the past several days. I even took the time to put on some mascara and lip gloss, and my hair, which is still damp, is thoroughly conditioned and smelling good.

“Ahhh,” I say happily as I sink onto the couch across from where Zach is sitting with his nose in one of Dad's aviation magazines.

“Feel better?” Zach sets it aside.

“Much.” I give him a good long look and see how out of place he looks in his homemade blue shirt, black suspenders, and baggy trousers. Plus he's still got a fair amount of farm dust on him. However, I doubt that he's too concerned about that right now.

“So, how are you feeling?” I gently ask. “Are you sorry you did this?”

He looks surprised. “No, not at all.”

“Oh.” I study his expression, trying to determine what's
going on. “But you seem uneasy,” I finally say. “Are you sure you don't feel bad for leaving the way you did?”

“I guess I feel a little bad,” he confesses. “I don't like hurting my family. But at the same time, I know it's the only way to do it. Everyone I know who's left has done it abruptly. Some go in the middle of the night.”

“Why? Are they worried someone will try to stop them?”

“Maybe some are worried their family would try to talk them out of it. Mostly I think they do it like that because it's easier.”

“Do people ever go back?” I query.

“Sometimes they come back to visit after a year or so. But I think it's usually a disappointment and it's always awkward. They never stay long.”

That's not really what I was asking, but I'm curious just the same. “Why are they disappointed?”

“I think they expect to be welcomed back.”

“And they're not welcomed?”

He just shakes his head.

For some reason this surprises me. “But if your family hasn't seen you . . . wouldn't they be glad to have you there?”

“Maybe they're glad to see you're still alive. That means there's still hope. But unless you've returned to repent and join the church and live according to their rules, it's not a happy reunion.”

“What would happen if you went back right now?” I persist. “Or a few days from now? Would they welcome you back then?”

His brow creases. “Welcome me back? I don't think that's how they'd act. It's more likely that they'd be annoyed and ashamed.”

“Ashamed because you left?”

He looks uncertain, but the answer is in his eyes.

“With an English girl?”

“That doesn't help my situation.” He gives me a crooked smile.

“Will they blame me for you going?”

“No, no . . . they accept that we take responsibility for our own choices. That's what
rumspringa
is all about. The freedom to make the big life decisions.”

“Have you made your decision?”

“I am making it.”

“Meaning you're still thinking about everything?”

“Ja.”

“If you chose to go back and live like your family, then they would welcome you?”

“They would welcome me if I apologized and confessed my sin, and if I professed my faith.”

I would never say this to Zach, but to me it seems like a very conditional sort of love. But I realize I don't fully understand their faith. Maybe they would call this “tough love.” Before I can say anything, I hear our landline phone ringing. The sound of it startles me—maybe because I haven't heard anything like that for so long. “That's our phone,” I lamely tell Zach, running to answer the noisy thing.

Of course, it's Lizzie. “I saw your dad's car,” she says eagerly, “so I knew you were home. You promised to call me, remember?”

“Sorry. We worked in the field all day, and the only thing I could think about was taking a shower.”

“Well, I texted you a few times, then just called your cell,
but it went straight to voice mail. I figured it was dead, so I decided to try your landline. Did you bring my kitty?”

“Yes, I have your kitty.” I squat down to peer inside the kitty crate that's still parked by the front door. Both of the kittens are awake and look eager to escape from captivity.

“Can I come get it?”

“Sure. Anytime you want.”

“I'll be right over. And I'll bring your kitty stuff.”

“Kitty stuff?”

“Remember, I promised to get you some supplies at Pets R Us?”

“Oh, yeah.” I open the door to the crate, and both kitties come tumbling out. Concerned about Dad's beloved Persian carpet in the living room, I scoop them up, trying to contain them with one arm as I hold the phone with the other.

“Everything okay?” she asks with a concerned tone. “I mean, you sound a little scattered. Is something wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong.” I lower my voice. “But I guess I should tell you that Zach came home with me.”

I hold the phone away from my head as she lets out a shriek. “No way!”

“Uh-huh.” I carry the kittens into the kitchen, where there's no carpet to be concerned about, then let them down.

“I'm on my way right now!”

I hang up the phone. Concerned that these two curious felines aren't house-trained yet, I try to keep them in the kitchen area. “Lizzie is on her way over here,” I call out to Zach. “She can't wait to meet you.”

He joins me in the kitchen, where we both watch the kittens exploring every nook and cranny. They are so adorable. I almost wish I could keep them both. I decide to utilize this
moment to explain to him that Lizzie is African American. “That means her skin is dark,” I say.

“I know what African American is,” he tells me in a slightly exasperated tone. “Remember, I read books?”

I smile. “Well, I just didn't want you to be too surprised. I never saw a person of color in Amishland.”

“Amishland?” He frowns.

“Sorry. It's a phrase I picked up from Lizzie.”

Zach jumps at the sound of the doorbell. “Can you get the door?” I ask as I stoop down to gather up the kittens again.

By the time I reach the foyer, Lizzie has already set down a large bag and introduced herself. Clearly, she is more interested in Zach than her new pet.

“Hey,” I say as I join them. “Here's your kitty.”

“Oh, what a darling.” She gathers the striped furry bundle into her arms. “You are so cute.”

“It's a good thing you came when you did,” I tell her as we go back into the kitchen area. “I was starting to get attached and considering keeping both of them.”

Lizzie looks appalled. “No way. This little sweetheart is mine. All mine.” She tips her head toward the plastic bag by the door. “I decided to trade you the cat goodies in there for my new kitty. No backing out.”

“You don't have to do that.” I go over to see what's in the bag.

“I want to,” she insists.

I remove a few things, including the food dish. “We should probably feed them,” I tell her as I return to the kitchen.

“You might want to get this set up too,” Zach says as he pulls out the plastic kitty box and a small bag of litter. “I'll get it ready for you.”

While he's fixing the kitty litter box, I show Lizzie how to soak the hard cat food kibble in milk. “Katy told me that they won't be able to eat hard food for a couple more weeks. She said you let it soak for about twenty minutes for now. But over the next few days, you soak it less and less, and then you start soaking it in water. Eventually they're able to eat it dry.”

While we play with the kittens, Lizzie questions Zach about a lot of things, including what he plans to do while he's in Cleveland. “There's a lot to see,” she says as she pets her new kitten. “There's the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the Pro Football Hall of Fame and the Museum of Art, and oh yeah, there's the ‘Holly'Wood Christmas Movieland where you can see stuff from movies like
Elf
and
The Grinch
. My little sister loves that place. And then—”

“I think Zach might enjoy seeing the lake and the Great Lakes Science Center and the USS
Cod
,” I insert.

“What's the USS
Cod
?” he asks with interest.

I explain that it's a fully intact World War II submarine, and Zach's eyes light up. “That would be great.”

“And there's the air museum,” I add. “Lots of cool aviation stuff there. And the Museum of Natural History and the zoo and—”

“That all sounds great,” he says eagerly.

“Do you really think he has time to see
all of
that
?” Lizzie demands. “I mean, this is Wednesday, Micah. We only have four more days of spring break.” She peers curiously at me. “How long is Zach going to be here, anyway?”

“I, uh, I don't really know,” I stammer.

“I'm not sure either,” he admits. “I guess it depends.”

Lizzie cocks her head to one side. “On what?”

He makes an uncomfortable smile. “I honestly don't know.
I guess I'll just have to see how it goes. Like Jesus tells us in the Bible, we can only live one day at a time.”

For some reason I feel surprised at his reference to the Bible. Of course, I realize he was raised with it, but so far he hasn't really mentioned anything related to his own personal faith. I almost assumed that he had none. Now I realize that's rather silly. Why wouldn't he? The kittens are mewing now, and I realize that they probably are hungry. “It looks like their food is soft enough to eat.” I set the bowl in the center of the kitchen, and the two furry critters scamper straight to the food and begin to devour it.

“Isn't that cute,” Lizzie gushes. “Wow, they must've been really ravenous. Look how fast they're cleaning that food up.”

“Speaking of food, I promised Dad I'd order takeout, and he should be getting home in the next hour.” I look at Zach. “Any preference?”

“Preference? You mean for a certain kind of food?”

“Yeah. I know you're used to good hearty farm fare.”

He grins. “
Farm fare?
Is that what you call our food?”

I turn to Lizzie. “The Amish really know how to eat.”

“I've heard that.” She pokes my midsection. “But it doesn't look like you've put on any weight.”

I laugh. “That's because you work it all off. The Amish eat well and work hard.” I go to the basket where Dad and I keep all our takeout menus and lay them out on the breakfast bar for Zach to see. “Here you go. There's Chinese, Italian, sushi, Thai . . . you name it, I'm sure it's there.”

His eyes get wide as he peruses the various menus. “Takeout is expensive,” he says quietly.

“Well, yeah, I guess so. I mean, you have to pay for someone else to do all the work.”

“You never cook your own food?” He looks quizzically at me.

Lizzie lets out a big laugh. “If you want really good homemade food, you'll have to come to my house, Zach.”

I make a face at my best friend. “Unfortunately, that's pretty true,” I confess. “Lizzie's mom is a great cook.”

“How about me?” She jerks her thumb toward her chest.

“Yeah,” I tell her. “You're a good cook too.”

“But Micah and Will aren't really into cooking,” she confides to Zach.

“Oh.” He makes a knowing smile, probably remembering something his mom or sisters told him.

“Speaking of cooking, I promised to help Mom with dinner tonight.” She bends down to pick up her kitten. “It looks like your tummy is nice and full.”

“Better get her to a kitty litter box,” Zach warns. “Most young animals have to go right after they eat.”

She laughs. “Thanks for the warning.”

I walk them to the door and even go outside to have a private word with Lizzie. “Zach left kind of unexpectedly,” I confess. “I don't think he really knows what he wants to do yet.”

“You mean he might've left home for good?” Her eyes grow wide.

“It's possible.” I tell her about Rachel and how she's helping Zach's mom. “I'm certain she's in love with him. In fact, she'll probably be brokenhearted when he doesn't come home tonight.”

“Seriously? Rachel and Zach?”

“She's very pretty,” I say as we stand outside of my house. “She can really cook and sew, and, well, it sounds like she can do everything in the way of housekeeping.”

“Yeah, of course.” Lizzie giggles. “She's been doing all that since she was a kid.”

“Anyway, go easy on Zach,” I tell her. “He might look strong, but he—”

“He looks great. Man, Micah, you didn't tell me he was such a hottie.”

I just shrug. “As I was trying to say, I can tell Zach is stressed. He might try to act like he's not, but can you imagine how you'd feel to be leaving your family and your home and everything you know like that? Knowing you might never be welcome under their roof again?”

“Yeah. That's hard.” She sadly shakes her head.

“Just try to keep that in mind, okay? I mean, if you get to spend any more time with him?”

“Will I?” she asks eagerly.

“I don't know.”

“Don't forget I have to watch Erika the rest of the week. But she and I would love to go with you to some of those places. We could chip in for gas and stuff.”

“Okay, I'll keep that in mind.” To be honest, there's a part of me that would like to have Zach all to myself. At the same time, it might make it more comfortable for him to have Lizzie and Erika with us. “I'll let you know,” I promise, hugging her good-bye. “It's so good to see you—and to be home again,” I call out as she hurries away with her kitty.