His Amish Choice. Leigh Bale
here.
“I am.” Eli nodded, his throat dry as sandpaper. Speaking the words out loud helped solidify his commitment.
“I just spoke with your mudder. She is inside the house, almost finished bottling applesauce for Lizzie,” the bishop said.
Eli nodded, forcing himself to meet the man’s gaze. “Ja, and my vadder was here earlier this morning, helping with the milking.”
“You all have been most kind.” Lizzie stared at the ground, her words low and uncertain.
Eli felt a wave of compassion. “It’s our pleasure to help. You would do the same for us.”
Or at least, he hoped she would. Her manner was so offish toward him that he wasn’t sure. When he’d left four years earlier, he’d written to her often, at first. Not once had she replied. That alone told him she wanted nothing to do with him. After a year and a half of trying, he’d finally moved on with his life, meeting and falling in love with Shannon.
“Gut,” the bishop continued. “Tomorrow at church, I will announce your plans to be baptized, so you can participate in the instruction classes again. They’ve already begun, but since you took them once before, I think we can catch you up. Then you’ll be prepared for your baptism in a few months.”
Lizzie looked at him and a rush of doubt speared Eli’s chest. The last time he’d attended the classes, he’d been a rebellious kid and hadn’t paid much attention. In those days, all he could think about was getting out of here. Was he ready for such a commitment now? Once he was baptized, there would be no turning back. But he had the next few months to decide.
“I’m happy to assist the Beilers,” he said.
A sudden hesitation struck him. A quick glance in Lizzie’s direction told him that she didn’t want him here. Her expression held a heavy dose of disapproval. As if she thought he was tainted now, because he’d been living among the Englisch.
He’d loved her so much when they were teenagers, but he’d had to leave. Had to find out what the world could offer. He’d desperately wanted a rumspringa—that rite of passage during adolescence when Amish teenagers experienced freedom of choice without the rules of the Ordnung to hold them back. But he’d never meant to hurt Lizzie. In fact, he’d tried to get her to come join him. If only she had responded to his letters. Instead, each one had been returned unopened.
The bishop smiled. “Ach, we’ll see you tomorrow then. Willkomm back, my brother.”
Eli nodded, but didn’t speak. A hard lump had lodged in his throat. He felt grateful to be here, but the reasons for the gratitude were murky. Was he truly glad to be back among his people, or was he just relieved to be away from reminders of Shannon? He’d talked to other paramedics who had lost a patient in their care, but it hadn’t prepared him for the shock. And to make matters worse, the first patient he’d lost had been someone he dearly loved. Someone who was counting on him to keep her safe. And he’d failed miserably. That’s when he realized how much he missed his familye. Seeking respite from the world, he’d come home. But thus far, peace of mind had continued to elude him.
Reaching up, he tugged on the brim of his straw hat where a letter from Tom Caldwell was safely tucked away. Tom had been Eli’s former boss at the hospital in Denver. His letter was a silent reminder of the Englisch life Eli had left behind. And though it felt good to be back in Riverton, whenever Eli thought of never being a paramedic again, a sick feeling settled in his gut.
“If you have faith, all will be well with your familye. Never forget that,” the bishop spoke kindly to Lizzie.
“Ja. Danke, Bishop,” Lizzie said, her voice holding a note of respect.
The church elders walked away, leaving Eli and Lizzie alone. A horrible, swelling silence followed. Lizzie looked at the ground, looked at the mountains surrounding the valley, looked anywhere but at Eli.
“You are truly all right?” Eli finally asked, peering at Lizzie’s forehead.
“Ja, I’m fine,” she said, briefly touching the bandage as if it embarrassed her.
“I didn’t expect this.” He gestured toward the retreating men.
“Neither did I.” Her voice wobbled.
“Are you sure you’re okay with me working here?” he asked.
She glanced at him. “I don’t have much choice.”
True. With her daed in the hospital and the bishop’s stamp of approval, she would have to accept Eli’s aid.
“I never meant to hurt you, Lizzie. I know I left rather suddenly,” he said.
She snorted and stepped back in exasperation. “Ja, you sure did.”
“I know I should have spoken to you about it first, but I feared you might tell my eldre or the bishop and they would have tried to make me stay.”
“Ach, so you ran away. You took the coward’s route and fled.”
He stared in confusion. He’d been gone four years. Why was Lizzie still so angry at him?
“We were only fourteen when I first proposed to you,” he said. “I’m sure you agree that was way too young for marriage. When I left, neither of us was ready to start a familye. If only you had come and joined me.”
“To Denver?” she asked with incredulity.
He nodded.
“Ne, I would never leave my people. You knew that.”
“But I had to go. I wanted a rumspringa.”
“So, nothing has changed. You still seek the world.” Her voice sounded bitter.
He snorted, feeling frustrated, but unwilling to explain about Shannon and all that he had recently lost. “Believe me, a lot has changed. I’m not the same person anymore.”
“And neither am I, Eli. You’re homesick for your familye, that’s all. But before long, you’ll get homesick for the world out there that you left behind. We don’t drive cars, use electricity, or swim the inner net. You’ll get tired of us and leave again.”
Swim the inner net?
He tilted his head in confusion, wondering what she meant. Then, he chuckled as he understood her words. “I think you mean surf the internet.”
She shrugged, her voice thick with conviction. “Whatever. We don’t do that. Pretty soon, you’ll become weary of our quaint, boring ways and leave again.”
Oh, that hurt. More than he could say. Never had he considered his Amish people to be quaint or boring. In fact, quite the opposite. The science of farming tantalized his intellect. The hard work and life here was definitely far from mundane. It was always a challenge to fight the weather, improve their machinery and produce a better crop...especially in Colorado. He also loved the solitude of fertile fields and the camaraderie of belonging to the Gmay. He always had.
“Ne, I’m here to stay, Lizzie-bee.” But his words lacked the conviction hers had held. After all, his memories of Shannon were in Denver. When she’d died, he’d wanted to leave, but now he missed going to their old haunts where they’d fallen in love. He missed her.
“Don’t call me that.” Her lips pursed with disapproval and tears shimmered in her eyes.
Lizzie-bee.
He held perfectly still, wishing he hadn’t used his old pet name for her. It had slipped out. How he wished he could go back in time and mend the rift between them. That they could be friends again. He could use the comfort of a good friend to help him deal with his broken heart, still full of love for Shannon.
“For the help you