A Secret of the Soul (Amish Secrets--Book 6) Read online

Megan laughed. “Was that a yes?”

  “Apparently so.” He rubbed his stomach. “I can’t argue with that.”

  “If you’re coming back to church tonight, you can leave your truck here and we can just take my car. Unless you have plans after lunch.”

  Elam smiled. “No. No plans. I’ll leave my Bible in the truck and grab it when we return.”

  “Okay.” She unlocked the door. Elam slid into the passenger’s seat and felt around for a lever or button to extend the distance between himself and the dashboard. “Cute car. It suits you well.”

  Megan smiled. “Thanks. My dad says the same thing.”

  “Will your folks be there?”

  “Do you mean for lunch?”

  He nodded.

  “No, they usually go out somewhere. On a typical Sunday, it’s Cracker Barrel.”

  “I like Cracker Barrel. It has a nice old-fashioned feel to it.”

  Megan nodded. “Do you have a favorite thing to eat there?”

  “Probably their chicken ’n dumplings with fried okra.” His mouth was beginning to water just thinking about it. “What’s yours?”

  She signaled and turned onto a street. “I like the lemon pepper trout with cornbread muffins.”

  “Ah, I love their muffins! Although, I can’t say I’ve tried their fish. I go fishing often so I usually order something else when I go out.”

  “I love fish. It’s my favorite type of meat.”

  “Mine too.” He grinned.

  She pulled into a driveway. “Well, here we are. Home sweet home.”

  He looked up at the quaint home, which was situated in a modest neighborhood. For some reason, he’d expected the deacon to live in someplace fancier.

  Megan pressed the beep for her alarm then led the way to the front door. Potted flowers on each side brought life to the otherwise plain entryway.

  “Did you grow up in this home?”

  “Here? No, I’m just renting.” She turned the key and walked inside.

  He frowned. Did she rent from her folks? He wasn’t quite sure how the Englisch did things, so as far as he was concerned, anything was possible. “What time will your folks be coming home?”

  “Here?” She laughed. “They’re not planning to visit today.”

  “You live here alone?” His brow shot up. He noticed the faint lingering scent of perfume or a vanilla candle. He inhaled again, enjoying the scent.

  “Not if you count Feathers.”

  “You have a bird?” He looked around for a cage.

  Megan laughed. “No, Feathers is my cat. She likes to eat birds. The first time she showed up on my doorstep she had a feather in her mouth.” She shrugged. “The name just stuck.”

  “It’s a good name.”

  She entered a modest dining nook and gestured toward a small round table with four chairs. The kitchen was connected to it on one side, and a sliding glass door that led to a patio and backyard bordered the other side. “You may have a seat. I’m just going to check the casserole and set the table.”

  “I can help.”

  “Oh, no. It won’t take but a minute.” In no time, she set a clear square glass dish on the table with two hot pads.

  “Mm…it smells good.”

  She returned again with a spatula, silverware, and two turquoise plates. “Would you like tea or water?”

  “Tea would be nice. Thanks.”

  She set down a pitcher of tea and two glasses that matched the plates on the table. She sat down across from him. “Would you like to say the blessing?”

  He nodded, then bowed his head in silence and gave thanks for the meal and the company. He cleared his throat and lifted his head.

  Megan’s head was still bowed.

  “Amen,” he finally said.

  “Oh. I didn’t know you had prayed. I was still waiting.” She laughed.

  “It was a silent prayer.”

  She reached for his glass and poured tea into it. “Is that how you always pray?”

  “Jah.” He took a drink of his tea. It was unsweetened, he quickly discovered.

  “Would you like some sweetener for that?”

  “Uh, yeah. That would be nice.”

  She brought a bottle of something and salt and pepper shakers. “You might need those. When I’m just cooking for myself, I usually go light on the seasonings.” She offered him the spatula and he helped himself to the casserole.

  The aroma from the food tantalized his taste buds and he quickly dug in. The flavors were appetizing but it did, indeed, need salt. “It’s gut.”

  “Goot?” She laughed.

  “Sorry, my Deitsch tends to slip from time to time.”

  “So, you’re German then?”

  “Amish.”

  Her brow shot up. “Amish?”

  He never knew what kind of reaction he would get when he revealed that detail of his life to Englischers. “I used to be Amish. I left five years ago.”

  “Really? Wow, that must have been quite a culture shock for you.”

  He didn’t particularly wish to discuss himself or the Amish. “Yeah. It was.” He raised his fork. “This is really good. What is it?”

  “Oh, it’s a new recipe. This is only the second time I’ve tried it. It’s lasagna, but instead of noodles, I used thinly sliced zucchini. I wanted to make it healthier.”

  “I didn’t even notice. And I don’t even care much for zucchini. But I like this.”

  “Oh, really? I love zucchini. It’s such a versatile vegetable.” She smiled. “As a matter of fact, I bought this from one of the Amish farms in the country.”

  “We used to grow a lot of zucchini. That’s probably why I grew tired of it.”

  “That would be funny if I purchased this from one of your relatives.”

  “You may have.” His gaze roamed around the cozy little house and took in his surroundings. From where he sat, he could see a small living room area with a couch, a chair, and a modest entertainment center, and a hallway that he guessed probably led to a bedroom or two and bathroom.

  She must’ve noticed his eyes wandering. “I’ll give you the grand tour when we’re done.”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a teacher of sorts.”

  “Of sorts?”

  “Yeah. I mostly work from my home. That’s why you see that stack of papers there on my counter. I’m not the neatest person.”

  “It’s clean compared to my place.” Although he had been attempting to keep it cleaner as of late. His mamm would be appalled.

  “I teach a small cooking class here twice a week. And dance on Friday evenings.”

  “Dance?”

  “Ballroom Dancing. A bit eccentric to most people, I know. But I love it.” She smiled. “Do you dance?”

  He nearly choked on his tea. “No. I’ve never danced.”

  “You should try it sometime. It’s fun.”

  “This is allowed?”

  “Allowed? What do you mean?”

  “By the bishop, or pastor, I mean.”

  “Well, typically, the pastor doesn’t tell us what we may or may not do. He lets the Word of God speak to hearts, the way only the Holy Spirit can. I feel like there’s nothing wrong with it, so long as I’m not dancing with another woman’s husband. Most people who take my classes are married couples who enjoy it for the exercise or young engaged couples wanting to learn to dance for their wedding.”

  “What is ball room dancing exactly?” He guessed it had something to do with dancing in a room full of balls. Maybe like those children’s playgrounds? But it seemed like it might be difficult to dance with a bunch of balls all around you. The absurdities of the Englisch culture never ceased to amaze him.

  “There are several dances classified as ballroom, but I only teach a few different styles in my class. I would say the waltz and the tango are probably the most popular of the dances. With swing next in line.” She must’ve noticed his blank stare. “I just spoke a foreign language to
you, didn’t I?”

  He smiled and nodded.

  “How about I show you later?”

  He nodded. “Where?”

  “When the weather is nice, I usually teach out on my patio. I have a tile dance floor that I had someone make for me. When the weather is not so nice, I usually use my garage or living room. The living room isn’t so great because of the carpet and the dance floor doesn’t fit, so I try to avoid it.”

  He frowned and looked around. “Where do you keep the balls when you’re not dancing?” Perhaps they were out in the garage.

  “Balls?”

  “Yes, for dancing.”

  A puzzled look stretched across Megan’s face.

  “Ball room dancing.”

  “Oh, no.” She burst into laughter. “You thought…” She doubled over and he began laughing too, although he wasn’t quite sure what was so funny.

  It took a full couple of minutes before she regained her composure. When she finally explained what a ballroom was, they both erupted in laughter once again.

  Elam couldn’t remember a time in his life that he’d ever laughed so much. It felt good.

  “Oh, my.” She wiped tears off her face and took a deep breath. “I guess I could see how you would think that.”

  “I was thinking maybe people danced around a bunch of balls like in the children’s playground, or maybe those ones they use at the gym.”

  She laughed again. “Nope. No balls involved.”

  “I guess it would be difficult to maneuver around all those balls. I tried picturing it in my head and it just seemed strange to me.”

  “Well, now you know.” She rose from the table and took their plates to the sink. “Would you like more tea?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She poured more into his glass and filled her own as well, before putting the pitcher into the fridge.

  “Would you like help with the dishes?” At home, he would wait until Monday to wash the dishes. He tried to rest on the Lord’s Day. That was one tradition from his Amish culture that he’d kept, because he thought it was fitting to set aside a day to focus on the things of God and rest.

  “Oh, no, that’s okay. I’m just going to let them soak right now. I’ll do them tonight after I get home from church.” She placed the remaining food in the refrigerator as well and quickly wiped the table down. “Are you ready for your tour now?”

  “Sure.” He rose from the table and followed her lead.

  “It’s not going to be all that long.”

  He smiled. “I figured as much.”

  “Living room.” She gestured.

  “It’s cozy.”

  “I like it. It’s just me so I don’t need anything big. A whole house is enough to keep clean, even if it is small.”

  He nodded.

  “Do you live alone?”

  “I have a dog. His name is Scramble.”

  “Where did he get his name from?”

  “I’m not sure. That was his name before I bought him.”

  “Did you ask the owners what it meant?”

  “No. I had a friend buy it from an Amish farm for me.”

  “You didn’t pick him out yourself?”

  “Things can be complicated where I come from. They wouldn’t have been allowed to sell it to me because I am shunned.”

  “Really? So, if an Amish family owns a store, you can’t go in there and buy their merchandise?”

  “They would allow me to come into the store, but they cannot accept my money. And they would probably ask me not to return to the store again.”

  “Isn’t that a little harsh?”

  He shrugged. “Those are the ways of my people. I guess it seems harsh to the Englisch, but that is what is to be expected if you leave. They think I am in danger of Hell because I left. I have received letters from family stating as much.”

  “So, they believe you have to be Amish to go to Heaven?”

  “For me, yes. But for someone like you, they figure that you don’t know any better so God might judge you differently.”

  “That’s sad that they think that. So, do they believe in Jesus?” She now walked down a short hallway.

  “They believe with their head, but not so much with their heart. They don’t have a personal relationship with our Saviour.” He frowned. “This was never taught to us. God was seen more as a judge than a friend.”

  “If I stopped by an Amish business and left a Gospel tract, would they accept it and read it?”

  “Some probably would.”

  She smiled. “It looks like I just found a new mission field. Are they open to discussing Bible issues?”

  “They might be. But many have very limited knowledge of the Bible so it may make them uncomfortable.”

  Megan nodded to a bedroom. “Well, the rest of the house isn’t much to brag about. Just my bedroom and a small office. The bathroom’s through that door right there.”

  He peeked into each room and thought they were tastefully decorated, not that he was anywhere near an expert. He snickered at the thought.

  “Shall we go outside?” Megan began walking down the hall, oblivious to Elam’s musings.

  “Sure.”

  ~

  More than one head turned to look when they arrived back at the church together in Megan’s car. Elam quickly retrieved his Bible from his truck, then joined her as she walked to the entrance.

  “I enjoyed lunch. Thanks for inviting me over.”

  “Anytime. I had a nice time too, Elam.” Megan smiled. “Next time, we’ll have to try those dance lessons I mentioned.”

  Next time? That sounded promising.

  Elam grimaced. “I’m giving you fair warning. I’m not going to be all that great at it and you might get your toes stepped on.”

  Megan laughed. “Oh, they’ve been stepped on plenty of times. That doesn’t bother me. I think anyone can dance if they want to.”

  “No, not anyone.” He frowned, thinking of his cousin Zach’s missing leg.

  “I once had a man in a wheelchair who danced with his wife. It was a bit different, but they learned to dance beautifully together.”

  “Can you teach someone with a prosthesis?”

  She shrugged and smiled. “I don’t see why not. It may be more challenging, but I find that many times the more challenging it is, the more rewarding success is.”

  “Hmm… something to think about.” He opened the door to the church. “Shall we?”

  “Sure. Where would you like to sit?”

  She’s going to sit with me? If people hadn’t noticed them driving up or walking in together, they surely would notice them now. He picked a spot near the middle. “Is this fine?”

  “Good as any.” They sat at the end of one of the pews.

  “Your father won’t mind?” He gulped as he saw the subject of conversation walking in their direction. His countenance unreadable.

  She shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

  They both stood as her father approached and offered his hand. “Elam, good to see you here this evening.”

  He shook his hand. “You too, Brother Hal.”

  A look passed between the deacon and his daughter, and she answered his unspoken question. “Elam joined me for lunch today.”

  Her father nodded but Elam was unsure if it equated to approval.

  She had most likely only answered one of the many questions in his head. Elam wondered if he should mention his intentions.

  “I asked Megan if she’d like to go out. Since she already had something cooking for lunch, she offered to share it with me.”

  Brother Hal smiled at his daughter. “I have no doubt it was delicious.”

  “Dad!” She playfully slapped his arm.

  “Hey, I’m only speaking the truth. You can’t help but be a great cook. You learned from the best.” He winked.

  Elam broke in. “It was very good.”

  The music to “I’ll Fly Away” began playing and congregants began making the
ir way to their seats.

  “It looks like I’d better take my seat. I’ll talk to you two more after the service.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Elam opened the door to his back patio and his dog rushed over to meet him, nearly knocking him down in his anticipation. “Okay, Scramble, let’s get some exercise. You’ve been cooped up in that backyard all day. What do you say?”

  Scramble cocked his head and whined in typical fashion, his eyes expectant. His delight evident by his wagging tale as Elam scratched his head and his chest.

  “You want to go play catch at the school? Go get your ball.”

  Scramble raced off and retrieved his tennis ball from under a bush.

  “Good dog.” He took the ball and stuffed it into his pants pocket, and then clipped Scramble’s leash to his collar. “Come on, boy. Let’s go have some fun.”

  ~

  An hour later, Elam headed for home with a satisfied Scramble. He barely noticed as a vehicle pulled up beside him.

  “Hey, stranger. You up for some dinner?”

  Elam’s grin widened and he slowed his step to keep pace with her Beetle. “Megan. I didn’t expect to see you out this way. Scramble and I were just heading home.”

  Her car slowly moved beside him as they spoke. “So this is your dog. He’s cute.”

  “Yeah, he’s a good dog.” He scratched his head. “You said dinner?”

  “Yes. Have you eaten?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Oh, good. I’m not too late, then.” Her smile made his stomach do a flip. “I brought something for us.”

  “Really?” His brow shot up. “Hey, how did you know I lived out this way?”

  Megan grinned. “Google is a girl’s best friend.”

  “Gotcha.” He winked. “So, what’d you make?”

  “You mentioned you like chicken and dumplings the other day, so I thought I’d make them. I’m not sure they’re as good as Cracker Barrel’s though.”

  “You made chicken ’n dumplings for me?” How thoughtful.

  “I hope that’s not too forward of me.”

  “Oh, no. It’s wonderful! I just didn’t expect it, is all. It’s a nice surprise.”

  She released a relieved sigh. “Oh, good.” She pulled up in front of his house at last.

  He glanced down at his basketball shorts and t-shirt, both partially drenched with perspiration. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m going to need a shower before I sit down to eat.”