white vinyl fencing surrounded the pasture and barnyard, and I shielded my eyes from the lowering sun to search out the horses in the lush field. I quickly counted nine: a couple of huge Belgians, four buggy-type horses and three cute pinto ponies. My senses were on overload, trying to take everything in, when three little boys ran out of the barn toward us.
I gauged the age of the oldest boy to be eleven or twelve and the two smaller ones six and eight. They were so adorable in their light blue short-sleeved dress shirts and black suspenders. All three had thick, dark brown hair laced with golden highlights, just like Noah’s. I was guessing they were his little brothers.
Funny, how when I’d met Noah earlier, I didn’t even notice what he was wearing. I guess I was too focused on his striking face and steamy eyes. Would he look as good to me the second time I saw him? I was willing to bet he would. Just the thought that I found a guy that attractive was unnerving to me. I didn’t really like the mushy, strange feelings I was experiencing, nearly popping with arousal at the mere idea of seeing him again.
One of the little boys left the others, running to the two-story, neat-as-a-button farmhouse. The remaining two fell in walking with us, peeking up bashfully from time to time.
“Hello, boys. Beautiful evening, isn’t it?” Dad said to them.
“Yes, sir, it’s a fine evening,” the older boy answered.
So far the Amish I’d met sounded pretty normal. Just a hint of an accent, or maybe it was their vocabulary, very proper. Anyway, they weren’t too different after all. Well, besides the beards, dresses and no electricity. If these boys walking with us were wearing normal clothes, they’d look like any other kids.
But then I heard the littlest boy shouting in a language I had never heard before. I glanced over to Dad questioningly. He answered, “They speak a form of German.”
“It’s called Pennsylvania Dutch,” the younger boy corrected Dad. He seemed pleased with himself for being able to tell us something that we didn’t know. He sniffed, walking on a little straighter.
I had to smile at that. He looked like such a little man with his clothes and manner. When I looked back up, my heart bounced at seeing Noah approaching with his father. He was actually a little taller than his dad, and this time I did notice what he was wearing—the same blue dress shirt and black suspenders that the little boys had on.
Most guys wouldn’t be caught dead dressing exactly like their brothers, but hey, it seemed to be expected with these people. I also observed for the first time that the pants the boys were all wearing were extremely dark navy blue and homemade. They all had matching haircuts, too, with their hair left full on top and trimmed neatly at the ears and neck. I decided that these boys were good-looking enough to pull the hairdo off very well.
Noah’s eyes met mine, and the way he was gazing at me made me glance away quickly. It was almost as if we already had a thing going on. He sort of looked at me in a possessive way, making me blush. I definitely didn’t want him to see that. But maybe he liked me, too. At least that’s what his eyes were saying. I could only hope, I thought, not willing to acknowledge just yet that I actually had a crush on him.
While I was getting all hot and bothered by Noah’s eyes, a woman and two teenage girls came out of the house. They were all wearing blue dresses, in varying shades. The mother was in navy and the girls a lighter sky-blue. They also wore identical stiff white caps on their heads, with dangling narrow ribbons on each side, and black old-fashioned tennis shoes on their feet. What I could see of their hidden hair, the girls had lighter brown locks than the boys. I could tell nothing at all about their personalities from their outfits, and their faces were emotionless. Without having made a quick mental note about their slightly differing facial features and the freckles dotting the taller one’s nose, I would have been hard-pressed to tell the two sisters apart.
After inspecting them from head to toe, I decided that it must be extremely uncomfortable to dress like that all the time. Being a dancer, I was accustomed to having my hair in a tight bun, with a dozen bobby pins holding my wild mane in place—and I hated wearing my hair up on performance days. The bun always gave me a headache, and these poor girls had to endure that pain every day.
As I gazed at the women, noticing that they wore no makeup at all and that the clothes concealed their figures completely, I felt a strong sense of pity for them. It seemed they weren’t allowed any individuality at all.
It was then that I caught the tiny girl staring up at us. Her cap was jet-black and her dress a tiny replica of her mom’s. She was without a doubt the cutest child I’d ever seen. I gathered that she didn’t have many non-Amish people visit often by the way she was gawking at us with her mouth wide open.
There were so many kids. Surely they weren’t all Noah’s siblings. I counted eight, including Jacob, who was now coming up the driveway in an open buggy being pulled by a trotting, high-headed bay horse. Sitting next to him was a young Amish woman dressed in lavender. When they parked, I saw that she had a very pretty round face with a rosy complexion. She greeted me with a friendly smile.
My eyes were quickly drawn to the horse and buggy. How cool it would be to ride in one. That was the best part about being Amish, I imagined, riding around in the buggies. But I would definitely hate never being able to drive a car. I had my permit now and couldn’t wait to get my license. The very idea that none of these people would ever drive a car was mind-boggling to me.
Dad’s voice, thanking the Amish for the invitation to dinner, interrupted my thoughts, and then Mr. Miller proceeded to introduce his wife and all the kids. I tried to pay careful attention to each name, desperately attempting to quickly imprint to memory their faces and names. In the end, I knew I’d never be able to remember them all, especially when they looked so similar in dress and physical features. I couldn’t believe such a little woman gave birth to all those kids. Didn’t they use any birth control? I mean, who’d want to have that many children anyway?
An uncomfortable silence descended upon the gathering when the introductions were finished until one of the boys— Peter, I think, but I wouldn’t bet on it—offered to show us some puppies. It sounded like a great idea to me. A way to escape from the intense scrutiny I was beginning to feel.
I wanted Sam to come, too, and poked his arm. Thankfully, he turned and walked with me, following the boys, who had pulled away from us in their mad dash to the barn. He must have been feeling the heebie-jeebies also, or he probably wouldn’t have come.
In a whisper, Sam bent down to me and said, “That was awkward.”
Before I could answer, Noah fell in beside Sam. A quiet happiness spread through me and all because he was coming with us. How pitiful of me. Surely it was impossible to become love struck in a few hours? I had to control my facial expressions, I warned myself. I didn’t want him knowing.
Momentarily distracting my brain were the little puppy noises, whining and grunting, as we entered the open, airy hallway of the barn. The inside was as well kept as the outside, with a swept aisle and halters hung neatly on the pegs outside each black stall door. The smell of freshly baled alfalfa hit my senses immediately and I breathed the lush leafiness of it in deeply. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Noah look in my direction when I made the noise, with a quizzical look on his face.
“This is a great barn.” I dared to look right at him, and he smiled slightly.
“Thank you” was all he said, but he continued to watch me intently, with that same appraising manner he’d had when we first met in the foyer. I wondered what was going through his brain, when Justin called out to me.
“Rose,
