24. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
E lijah looked at himself in the mirror. Geez, when had Eddie last worn this black turtleneck sweater? When he was twelve? It clung to Elijah like a second skin, and he didn't like it. He could see his biceps, and it made him look skinny. He turned this way and that in the light. Mirrors were a vanity to the Amish, and he normally didn't spend a lot of time gazing in one, but he couldn't stop looking at the confusing image in front of him. He didn't look like himself. He even thought he could see a nipple through the sweater when the angle was just so.
Ugh. Why did he have to dress like this? He tugged at the sweater material at his waist, but it bounced right back into place.
The black pants were fine. Samuel had bought them special for him, and they were the right size. Elijah had wanted to just wear his black Amish pants, but now that he had the new pants on, he could see that they weren't the same at all. The new pants were narrower knee to ankle and the fabric was shinier and thinner. Fancy. They weren't too tight, but they didn't exactly hide anything either.
He looked English in this outfit. Like someone else. Not bad looking, he supposed. If you didn't mind small. With his dark hair and black clothing, his pale face really stood out. In every way, he felt overexposed.
He threw an afghan over the mirror, as if that could erase the way he looked.
He was real anxious about tonight. Eighty English eating and drinking. He supposed it was no different than any restaurant or gathering, and there was no reason to feel scared about it. By the time tonight was over, he'd see it was no big deal, like Jon said.
But dang, he'd be glad when tonight was over.
He put on his black coat and buttoned it to the top, hiding his outfit. When he got down to the barn, Jon handed him the orange parking vest, a big black flashlight, and walkie-talkie. "Guests'll start arrivin' soon. Might as well head over there."
Elijah looked down at the walkie-talkie. He didn't want to do parking. Would rather muck forty stalls than do it. But who else could he ask? Eddie or Samuel? They owned the place. And Jon had other things to do.
Elijah trudged from the barn. There was still snow on the wide swatches of lawn, but it wasn't fresh. The sun the past few days had given it a hard, icy coating. The pathways had all been cleared and sanded, mainly by himself. He made his way reluctantly to the front of the house and down the driveway. Midway to the road, there was a parking sign with an arrow and a spotlight on it. He didn't know why anyone needed to be here for parking at all, since it was obvious where to go. But Eddie probably wanted a friendly face to greet guests.
He could see the country road down the driveway, and every time a car drove by, his heart skipped a beat. Was it black? Was it them? A big blue SUV pulled in, and he waved it on to parking, then a small red car. A yellow one. A white.
There's no reason why those brauchers would come here, he told himself. They knew where he lived because they'd followed Jon's truck that one day, but that didn't mean they'd come back. Only tonight was a kind of open house. What if they knew about the event or just drove by and saw all the cars turning in?
Elijah told himself that was dumb. They were probably back in Ronks or wherever they were from. He'd told them no; they had no reason to bug him about it. But the fear curled in his belly all the same. Those four Amish brauchers had burrowed into his mind like ticks.
They want to hurt Dawdi.
The more he'd prayed on it, the more he'd asked for guidance, the more deafening was the silence in his head. Whether that meant something bad was coming, and his angels couldn't give him a warning about it, or whether they thought his worries were foolishness, not worthy of responding to, he didn't know. All he knew was that the voice was silent on the matter. Pretty much silent lately altogether, in fact.
This one's for you.
And he wasn't sure they weren't flat-out wrong sometimes besides. Since Jon clearly wasn't for him. What he wouldn't give for that to be true!
The sun went to bed early, and it got colder. He pulled gloves out of his pockets and continued to wave people to parking, his breath a white plume on the air. A lot of people seemed to know their way already as they passed him and walked up the driveway, all dressed up like for church. A few asked directions. He pointed out the way with a smile.
Elijah wished he had his long underwear on as the temperature dropped. But nothing would fit under that black sweater. Not even Elijah.
Around six thirty, his walkie-talkie went off. Elijah jumped. He scrambled to take it out of his coat and hold down the red button. "Elijah here."
"Come back to the barn now." Jon's voice.
Elijah felt a wave of relief and went running. He blinked as he entered the upper floor of the barn. Everything was so bright and busy. Guests were seated at the long tables, talking together, and more guests were standing around the room or waiting in line at the bar. There was a group around both Eddie and Samuel, probably talking about the farm. The room was beautiful with the fairy lights and candles and the red radiating space heaters, and the people were dressed up in fancy clothes. It felt strange and intimidating, but also… festive? The energy was happy and relaxed. Elijah took a deep breath and allowed the feeling to wash over him.
Jon came up. "Come on. It's time to serve the first course."
Elijah swallowed down a fresh surge of nerves and nodded. "Where do we—"
"Take your coat off first," Jon ordered.
It was then Elijah really looked at Jon. His black waves were neatly combed back and shiny with some pomade. His face was freshly shaved, and his skin looked moist and soft, his golden eyes sparkling and clear. He wore a black turtleneck and pants that fit him very well. Not too tight, like Elijah's sweater. He looked so handsome and well-built it sent a zap of electricity to Elijah's body. Jon always looked good, but this version of him was too much. Elijah looked away.
"Your coat?" Jon repeated.
"Is there an apron or somethin'?" Elijah stammered.
"An apron? No. Didn't you get that black sweater from Eddie?"
Jon sounded a little impatient, like this was one more problem he had to solve. Elijah wasn't going to be another problem. He took off the orange vest, then reluctantly unzipped his coat and shrugged out of it. He went and hung it with the other coats on the rack they'd set up for that purpose. He turned back to face Jon, crossing his arms over his stomach self-consciously.
"It's kinda tight," he muttered, unable to stop himself.
Jon looked him over, head to toe, slowly. And when his eyes raised to Elijah's, there was something in them Elijah had never seen before. It gave him chills.
Jon cleared his throat. "It's fine. You look good."
"It's too tight," Elijah repeated, pulling at the knit material over his stomach to no avail.
Jon took a step closer and grabbed his hand. "You'll stretch it out."
"That's the point."
Jon squeezed Elijah's hand, forcing him to look up. "It looks fine," Jon repeated firmly.
Elijah now felt stupid and ashamed. Men should not care about their looks. He wished he hadn't drawn attention to it. Jon's hand burned on his and made his head dizzy. He tugged it away. "You said it was time to serve food?"
"Yeah. Follow me."
Jon led the way through the curtain to a side alcove of the barn where tables had been set up for catering. It was bustling back there. Large stainless-steel pans of food were set up over little burning cans. A young, blonde woman seemed to be in charge. A young man with a beard and odd black plugs in his earlobes was placing plates with heaps of greens on a side table.
The blond woman looked at Jon. "We need to get the salads out."
"On it," said Jon. He grabbed a large oval tray and put a dozen salad plates on it. He handed it to Elijah, then filled up a second tray. "Just follow me and do what I do." He led the way back into the main area.
An explosion of butterflies erupted in Elijah's belly, but he did as he was told. Jon walked down the main aisle to the far end of the room and started with the tables in the back. He held the tray confidently along one arm and, with his other hand, put a salad plate at every seat, even where no one was there. Elijah did the same, working on the other side of the table. It took some effort to balance the tray with one arm, but he found he could brace the short side against his bicep and grip the far side with his hand and that felt secure.
The guests who'd been standing around talking began making their way back to their seats. Elijah was greeted with smiles, and thank-yous, but he was focused on not dropping anything. He felt awkward and clumsy. He could imagine multiple salad plates crashing to the barn floor, and that was to be avoided at all costs. When the last plate was safely set down, it was time to follow Jon back to the catering area for more.
After several rounds, Elijah relaxed a little. Jon was right. It wasn't real hard. And people were awfully nice.
He forgot about his tight sweater until a young man gave him a warm once-over as he put a plate down in front of him. The man was maybe Elijah's age, had red hair, and was not at all bad looking. He gave Elijah a sensual smile, his eyes sparked with interest. "Thanks," he murmured. "What's your name?"
Elijah got a flash of cold, then heat. He smiled nervously. "Elijah."
"I'm Travis. Nice to meet you, Elijah."
Were the English really so bold as to make such obvious invitations in front of others? Even a man to another man? He looked around the table, but no one was paying any attention.
He gave Travis a weak smile and moved on. He managed to put down the next three salad plates without dropping anything, and then he looked up to find Jon was waiting for him, frowning. He seemed tense as they moved back to the catering area.
"What's wrong?" Elijah asked as they reloaded their trays.
"Not a thing," Jon said, but his voice was tight. He hesitated. "If anyone gives you a hard time, let me know."
"No one's givin' me a hard time."
"Just sayin'. You don't have to put up with any… crap." Jon left with his tray, and Elijah hurried to follow.
As he put the next round of plates down, Elijah couldn't help but overthink it. Jon was angry about the red-haired guy flirting with him. What did he make of it? Did he think Elijah was gay? Did he think Elijah wasn't and would be horribly offended? Did he think Elijah was some rube innocent who didn't even know what that look meant?
He wasn't innocent. He wasn't the child Jon seemed to think he was.
He kept serving. He didn't dare look around to see if the red-haired man was watching him.
Everyone was eating now. The music began—three people dressed in black on the small stage. They were Elijah's age. The music was beautiful. He hadn't grown up with music like this. The Amish didn't approve of musical instruments, only voices, so the sounds were uncanny to him. With the lights and all the people talking and eating, it was a mesmerizing scene.
He and Jon stood at the back until everyone was done eating their salads. Elijah soaked in the atmosphere—the music, the gentle click of tableware, the murmur of voices. Then Jon led the way to collect plates. He got ahead of Elijah and took the plate from the red-haired man. Elijah was just as glad because he had no idea what to say or do.
They served the main course next. There was something sliced that looked like roast but wasn't, a fancy-looking sweet potato dish, a green bean thing, and a fruit and nut relish. Once everyone was served, Jon started going around refilling glasses or coffee cups from the various pitchers on the tables, so Elijah did the same.
"Where you from, honey?" an older woman asked as Elijah filled her glass.
"Um… Ronks."
"Oh, I know Ronks! There's an Amish farm stand on Church Road that has the best cinnamon rolls. You know it?"
He nodded. She was talking about the Smucker place.
"Those farms are so quaint out there!" the woman gushed.
Elijah just smiled and moved on. Did these folks know Samuel was ex-Amish? Would they care if they knew he was? He felt like an imposter dressed as he was, as if he was hiding his background. In his experience, the English thought of the Amish as curious, to be gawked at like rare-breed hens.
He pulled at his sweater again, feeling uneasy. That made him think of the red-haired man, and that made him look over in his direction. The man who'd introduced himself as Travis was talking to a young woman seated next to him. She looked like his sister. But then he looked right at Elijah. He smiled when he caught Elijah looking at him and nodded his chin.
Elijah quickly looked away.
They cleared plates and served dessert, then Jon came over with Elijah's coat. "People start leavin' right after dessert. Time to get back out to parking."
Elijah wanted nothing less, but he nodded.
"You still have the flashlight and walkie-talkie?" Jon asked.
Elijah put on his coat and the orange vest, then patted his pockets. "Got 'em. What about the dessert plates?"
"The catering staff will help clear. They're done cookin' now."
"Okay." Without another word, Elijah trudged back out into the cold.
The air felt sharp and nearly painful. He trudged across the lawn, down the driveway, and back out to the parking area. It was dark except for the distant lights that shone at the house and the spotlight on the parking sign. The cold, dark void of night was a slap in the face after all the life and warmth in the barn.
Elijah shuffled back and forth on his feet to keep warm. He still wasn't sure what he was supposed to look for when the guests came out, but he hoped it would be obvious if he needed to radio Jon.
The party had been much nicer than he'd expected. All the people who came seemed to care about the farm. He'd always assumed English only cared about themselves. But they'd paid good money for the tickets. And there was the caterer, Melanie, who went to so much trouble for cheap because she loved the animals.
There were good people among the English. Really good people. He'd always known that, in his heart of hearts. He'd never really believed Dawdi's rants, or the words of the bishops who spoke at gatherings on Sundays, about how the whole world outside was wicked and selfish and money hungry. But it was one thing to think that wasn't true, another to see it, feel it, for himself.
Then he thought about the red-haired man. He was handsome enough. And Elijah was lonely. But he had no idea how anything could come from it, nor did he want it to. His heart's answer was clear and immediate. No .
No, he was foolishly mooning over Jon, who had looked so handsome tonight. His heart didn't seem to care that Jon would never return his interest.
Jon had looked sophisticated in his black sweater and pants. Elijah made up his mind that since Eddie was paying him cash now, he'd walk to town and buy himself a black sweater that fit right. And better shoes too. His boots looked all wrong with the black pants. Jon wore fancy black boots tonight, not ones made for work and snow. Elijah looked down at his inappropriate feet and scuffed them in the gravel of the parking area. They'd sanded the whole lot, and he was glad now, because it sure enough would be icy if they hadn't.
Headlights flashed to his left. Someone was coming down the driveway. He wondered why someone would be arriving now, after dinner, but maybe they were picking up a guest.
It wasn't until the car pulled into the parking area that Elijah saw it was a black car. The light at the parking sign backlit the interior for an instant.
Four men. Amish hats.
Terror slicked through him. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, like in a nightmare. He judged the distance to the barn and decided he'd never make it. He fumbled the walkie-talkie from his belt as four car doors opened and four men got out. Doors slammed shut. They were close enough that he recognized all four—they were the four who'd confronted him outside the bakery the other day, sure enough. He managed to get off a strangled, "Jon!" on the walkie-talkie before the tall, dark-haired one—Carl was his name—snatched the walkie-talkie away.