The brothers walked in the direction of the woodpile—their old place where they could talk without being easily overheard by anyone. Zach crossed his arms over his chest and dug his toe into the dirt.

  “I think we started out wrong.”

  “How so?”

  “We didn’t choose each other,” he said. “I mean, we didn’t choose to get serious. We kind of just stumbled into it. We were dating, of course, and we really liked each other. I was struggling to pay my rent, and I lost a job. She came to my rescue. She’d had a falling out with her roommate, and we both kind of thought—why not? Why not give it a try? So we moved in together.”

  “And you were fighting as a result?” Danny asked.

  “A bit. I mean, we were just really different. Everything I did was weird to her. And she had her own ways that made no sense to me, but because she knew the Englischer life better than I did, she’d win every argument.”

  So they’d been at odds.

  “Anyway, we came to see you guys that one time, and she said she agreed with Mamm and Daet, that living together without being at least engaged was a really bad idea. She was raised as a Christian, and she felt somewhat guilty about our arrangement. I guess I did too, but . . . I didn’t want to get married.”

  “You still don’t?” Danny asked.

  Zach shook his head. “I wanted to date her. I’m not ready for marriage, and when I am, I’m not sure I want to marry Meghan.”

  That news would be crushing to Meghan, Danny had no doubt. She’d been going out of her way to get to know the Amish world and his family. None of it had been comfortable for her, but she’d done it.

  “So you had one of those state-of-the-relationship conversations, realized she wanted marriage and you didn’t, and broke up?” Danny concluded.

  “Yah.”

  “I had one of those too. With Beth. We want different things too, so I get it.”

  “I didn’t realize you were dating.”

  “We weren’t. Not really. Just spending lots of time together, and talking about everything, and holding hands, and . . .”

  “And not dating,” Zach said.

  “Exactly.”

  “But she doesn’t want more?”

  “She’s not sure if she’ll even stay Amish. And I want someone who wants all of this as much as I do.”

  Zach nodded slowly. “I shouldn’t have moved in with Meghan. It was a dumb money decision. It set us up for some huge expectations we weren’t ready for.”

  “You’re sure you don’t want to marry her?” Danny asked. His parents wouldn’t want him to encourage this, but if Zach was going to go Englisch, Danny didn’t want to ruin his chances at love and stability. He could do a whole lot worse than Meghan. “We like her. We’d take the time to teach her about the Amish culture.”

  “Nee,” Zach said, falling back into Pennsylvania Dutch. “This hurts, but it’s the right thing.”

  “You’re moving out, then?” Danny asked.

  His brother nodded.

  “Where will you go?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it.”

  “You could come home,” Danny suggested.

  “Another decision based on a tight financial situation?” he asked.

  “Hey, living with a woman and living with your family are two different things. You belong here. You grew up here. But I daresay you’d need to stop doing those videos if you came back.”

  Zach’s gaze flicked toward Danny, and he looked a little embarrassed.

  “Probably,” he agreed with a small smile.

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Meghan, Zach,” Danny said. “I really am. I know how much that hurts.”

  Zach nodded, and his chin trembled just a little. “Danke. I’m sorry about Beth.”

  “Yah, well, you know . . .”

  They exchanged a rueful look, and Zach scuffed his toe into the dirt once more. Life was hard, and sometimes it really hurt, and that was when a family was so necessary. They might disagree about a whole lot, but at the end of the day, they still belonged to each other. DNA and a shared childhood did that.

  Danny wondered if he’d made the same mistake with Beth. Had they somehow just fallen into intimacy over the years without ever properly choosing it? Maybe. And now when they faced really difficult things, it wouldn’t work, regardless of their feelings for each other.

  Their mother opened the side door and shaded her eyes. Zach waved, and she waved back.

  “Mamm made pie,” Danny said.

  “Oh yah?” Zach brightened a little bit.

  “Might as well come in and eat.”

  “Yah, I will,” Zach agreed.

  “Think about coming home, okay?” Danny said.

  Zach nodded, and they headed back toward the house. Zach clomped up the steps first, and Danny looked back over his shoulder toward the Peachy house. It stood silent, and no one was visible in the backyard or on the beach.

  He missed Beth already. Somehow, without ever actually choosing it, his heart had gotten entangled with hers. And even though this hurt right now, he wouldn’t do it differently if he had the chance, because what they shared meant something. Even if it ended here.

  31

  Beth stayed away from the lake the next day. She longed to see Danny, and if she stood by the water, her gaze would move to the Lapp ice house and the woodpile, and she’d invariably see him. Then he’d see her, and regardless of what they’d said yesterday, they’d end up clapping back together again like two magnets. And right now that part of her heart was very raw.

  He’d kissed her, and she’d kissed him back. But it wasn’t just a kiss—it was realizing Danny had become a very important part of her world, and if she followed her heart and moved toward more freedom, she’d be cutting herself off from him forever. She could visit her family, of course, but Danny wouldn’t sit here waiting for her. Nor should he.

  “I think I’ll make some bread today,” Mammi said as they boxed up some of the dishes she didn’t use often.

  “I’ll help you,” Beth offered.

  “You can go out and get some fresh air, dear,” Mammi said.

  Beth shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t need to babysit me.” Mammi eyed her uncertainly.

  Except Beth did need to be with her. Mammi couldn’t stay on her own safely anymore. But her desire to stay in had nothing to do with her worries about Mammi today.

  “It’s not that, Mammi,” Beth said. “I had a talk with Danny yesterday, and we agreed that we shouldn’t court.”

  “Oh, Elizabeth . . .” Mammi cast her a sad look. “Are you sure? He’s very nice.”

  “It’s for the best, Mammi. And I think seeing him would hurt.” Beth shrugged weakly. “So, can I help with the bread?”

  “Of course, dear. I need you to fetch the flour. Are we out? Did we run out of flour?” Mammi looked around anxiously.

  “We have four bags, Mammi.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t think we have any—”

  Beth opened the cupboard and pointed at two new bags of flour inside. “And there are two more in the cellar. We have plenty.”

  “Oh . . .” Mammi nodded. “I didn’t remember we had any.”

  So Beth stayed indoors, and they made bread. Mammi had a way of making the fluffiest, softest bread that Beth herself could never seem to duplicate. It came down to Mammi’s senses. She’d sniff at the bread dough and declare it “didn’t smell risen enough.” Or she’d measure out the sugar and salt by hand—no actual measurement besides her own eye. She just had a feel for what made the best bread, which made her recipes hard to copy.

  Outside, the sound of a buggy’s wheels drew Beth’s attention, and she went to the window. It was Tabitha Schrock’s buggy, and she pulled up and waved cheerily at Beth in the window.

  “It’s Tabitha,” Beth said. “She must be checking on the cow.”

  Beth went to the side door, slid on her shoes, and stepped outside.

  “Do you mind giving me a hand?” Tabitha called. “I’ve got a calf!”

  No explanation beyond that, just mentioning a calf, and Beth couldn’t help her curiosity. Besides, Tabitha obviously needed another set of hands here. As Tabitha tied her horse to the hitching post, Beth went around to the back of the buggy. There sat a very young Holstein bull calf. He blinked at her with those big, long-lashed eyes. This calf couldn’t be more than three weeks old, toothless and knobby-kneed.

  “Why do you have a calf?” Beth asked as Tabitha joined her and opened the door to the cage.

  “He’s my prescription for your milk cow.”

  Beth stood back as Tabitha tugged the calf toward her in the same way most folks around here transported newly purchased calves from the cattle auction. He leaned away and bawled out in annoyance.

  “Come on, boppli,” Tabitha said. “I’ve got a treat for you.”

  “Where did you get him?” Beth asked. “Did you buy him? Do we need to pay you back?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. He was abandoned by his mamm on the Blank farm,” Tabitha said. “And Jared doesn’t want another bottle baby on his hands, so when I asked if I could use him to help a cow with mastitis, he was very happy to lend him out. When he’s ready to wean, we’ll send him back to the Blanks.”

  “That’s smart,” Beth said.

  “Danke. It was a solution that presented itself,” she replied, but Tabitha also shot Beth a grin. Tabitha seemed to know she was smart, and Tabitha still had that Englischer air about her. To Beth’s eye, she was an interesting mix between her Amish upbringing and her Englisch education. It didn’t always mesh, but she kept trying, which was rather endearing. Beth had overheard conversations about their new vet. Tabitha was slowly and earnestly fitting back in.

  “Can you get me that crate?” Tabitha asked, pointing.

  “Yah, sure.” Beth went over and grabbed a wooden crate from by the shed and brought it back. Tabitha turned it upside down and used it as a step up. Then she wrapped her arms around the calf’s upper legs and lifted him.

  “Come on.” Tabitha grunted. “You’ll like this. I promise.”

  Beth put her hand up to help steady Tabitha as she carefully stepped down from the crate. In her arms, the calf settled down, and Tabitha carried the calf toward the stable.

  “What’s the plan?” Beth asked.

  “Well, the antibiotics haven’t done the job on Bessie’s mastitis—not completely,” Tabitha said through gritted teeth. “And we’ve given it a few days now since the last antibiotic dose, so it’s time for a new angle.”

  “A calf?”

  “Yah. Milking a cow doesn’t work the same way a calf’s sucking does. A calf will clear the milk out of an udder much more efficiently, and it will help the cow’s body to regulate better. It comes down to hormones and pheromones and body chemistry.”

  Beth followed Tabitha toward the stable. Last night had been miserable, and today she felt hollowed out and empty. She’d come to Mammi’s to make her decision, and she still wasn’t positive which path to take. She couldn’t stay in this limbo of rumspringa forever. Eventually, she’d need to decide which future she wanted.

  “Are you okay?” Tabitha asked.

  “Yah, I’m all right,” Beth replied.

  “Are you sure? You look like you lost your last friend.”

  It was a figure of speech, but not too far off the mark. She’d lost her best friend, at the very least. But she should have seen it coming.

  “I, uh—” Beth swallowed. “I had to make a choice one way or another with Danny.”

  “Oh.” Tabitha cast her a sympathetic look. “Don’t tell me you broke it off?”

  Somehow, talking about this with Tabitha was easier than with Mammi. Maybe it was because Tabitha expected less, or that Tabitha had also felt drawn to the Englisch world.

  “Dragging on our relationship wasn’t fair to him,” Beth said.

  “He’s a good man, you know.”

  And Beth did know it. Danny was more than a good man—he was honest and decent and kind. He was stable, and he believed in this life so strongly that nothing seemed to shake him. He was a truly wonderful man.

  “That’s why it wasn’t fair to him,” Beth replied. “I’m not sure what I want to do with my future, and he’s very sure about his.”

  “You want different things?” Tabitha asked.

  Beth nodded, and she hesitated before she added, “I might leave.” She hurried ahead to open the gate to the pasture. “The cow is in the pasture still.”

  Tabitha didn’t answer, and while Beth knew that Tabitha had made a similar decision to leave her community about ten years ago, Tabitha had also returned. She’d disapprove of this, no doubt. But Tabitha didn’t have Englischer family out there somewhere. It wasn’t in her blood.

  Tabitha was breathing hard by the time she passed through into the pasture and bent, putting the calf down. The milk cow stood a few yards off, her head down as she grazed. She was doing a lot better, but like Tabitha had said, she wasn’t fully healed. Her udder was still swollen, but the teats were no longer inflamed.

  “Come on.” Tabitha pulled on the rope around the calf’s neck, but he refused to budge. She bent down and picked up the calf again, carrying him over to the cow.

  Was Beth’s confession going to be ignored? She suddenly felt a little foolish at having shared it. Maybe Tabitha wasn’t the right person to talk to about this after all.

  “I need you to block off the cow to keep her here,” Tabitha said. “This might be prickly.”

  Beth headed around to the front of the cow, keeping a couple yards between herself and the big bovine while Tabitha put the calf down beside the cow and tried to pull his nose toward the udder. The calf balked.

  Tabitha milked a couple of sprays of milk, then pointed the teat at the calf’s face and sprayed. The calf startled, and his pink tongue came out, tasting the milk that dripped down his nose. Tabitha sprayed his mouth this time, then got on her knees and pulled the calf up to the udder. He fought less this time, and she managed to get his mouth to a teat. It took him a minute, but soon enough, he started to drink.

  “There.” Tabitha pushed herself to her feet and stepped back, crossing her arms and watching the calf drink with a smile on her face.

  “That’ll fix it?” Beth asked.

  “Yah. We try not to bring a calf in because it uses up her milk, and obviously your aent has her here as a milker. But sometimes, the best thing we can do is bring it back to basics. A mama cow and a calf.”

  Beth remained silent, running those words over in her mind. Back to basics. What was basic for her? Was it an Amish life? Was it a life swimming and having a career? Was it finding the Englischer world her daet had left behind?

  “That’s what brought me home, you know,” Tabitha said, finally turning toward Beth and giving her a meaningful look.

  “Getting back to the basics?” Beth asked.

  “Yah. I needed to get back to all the things that made me me, and I knew that I had to come home.”

  “I’m not sure what makes me me,” Beth admitted.

  “Sometimes you don’t know until you’ve got some space from it,” Tabitha said. “I shouldn’t say that. No one wants me to say that.”

  “I’m glad you’re honest with me.” Beth gave her a small smile.

  “Just be careful,” Tabitha said. “There are some mistakes that can change your life forever, and there is no way to completely fix them.”

  Like Tabitha’s marriage and divorce. Beth knew how much that had changed Tabitha’s life. There would be no happy home with a husband and kinner for her. That was a sad thought, because whether Beth established herself as an Amish woman or an Englischer, she did want a family of her own.

  And an image of Danny rose up in her mind, with his gentle eyes and strong hands and good work ethic, and her heart gave such a squeeze that it brought tears to her eyes. Was she willing to sacrifice Danny to find out if the Englisch world was right for her?

  The calf was still busily nursing, and the cow craned her head back to sniff him, familiarizing herself with this new baby’s scent. It boded well for an adoption.

  Like Mammi and Daet. Like all the other families that had grown when a child needed a home or a home needed a child. But it once again left Beth wondering where she truly belonged.

  Was it here amongst the Amish, who knew her best, or out there with the freedom to follow her passions?

  32

  Danny sat in silent support next to his brother as Mamm dished another piece of pie onto Zach’s plate. Zach looked tired and sad. He had that red rim to his eyes that said he’d been crying at some point too. Maybe on his drive over?

  Zach’s phone lay on the table, and he glanced at it.

  “She’s not answering my text,” Zach said.

  “I’m so sorry, sohn,” Mamm said gently. “I’m glad you came home. Home is the best place to nurse a broken heart.”

  “I think it’s a bit unfair of Meghan to ask that we get married, just like that,” Zach said.

  “You were living with her, sohn,” Mamm said.

  “Yah, but we didn’t move in because we were ready to get married.”

  “If you pick up the reins but aren’t ready to drive a buggy, is that wise?” Mamm asked quietly. “I think she’s got a good heart, and she wanted your relationship to be an honest one. If she’s not the right woman for you, that’s good to know, but you can’t just move in with a girl and expect her not to think of the vows that would keep you together for a lifetime.”

  Danny glanced toward the window, his mind on Beth. He missed her. That was the problem, plain and simple. He missed her so much that his chest ached with it. It seemed to be pretty similar to what Zach was feeling too. Except Zach wasn’t ready for a lifetime commitment, and Danny was. Maybe Danny had more in common with Meghan right now—two people who wanted the commitment of lifetime vows, but with partners who weren’t ready for it.

  Out the window, Danny saw a pickup truck drive up. He recognized it from before—the man who took a lot of photos.

  “Zach,” Danny said, nodding toward the window. “Do you know this guy?”