"Are you going back?"
He dragged his attention from the passing landscape. "To the farm or the service?"
"Either."
"I'm not reenlisting in the Army."
A tense silence fell between them. He felt like a cloud swept over then, shutting out the sunlight.
5
Hannah wondered if she should suggest they return home, but after a few minutes, it seemed his mood lifted.
"The farms look so prosperous here."
"Most of them do well. But land has become expensive here, so some Amish families have moved to other states."
She pulled the buggy over and they watched men working in the field. Hannah slanted him a look, wondering if she should ask him again if he intended on returning to his childhood home.
"And what about you?"
"What about me?"
She rolled her eyes. "Getting you to talk about yourself is like pulling teeth."
"I always thought that was a weird expression."
Hannah muttered under her breath.
Chris laughed and tried to stretch his legs. "Not much leg room in these things, is there? Anyway, no, I don't like talking about myself."
"Sorry, I'm just trying to be social."
"Are other Amish like you?"
"You mean other Amish people or other Amish women?"
"Women."
She held up her chin. "I just have a natural curiosity.Besides, we do love a good conversation. We love to visit with our friends and family."
"Since there's no television or computers."
"Because we don't want there to be," she told him with a touch of curtness, then realized she sounded prim and fussy.
He glanced at her. "Sorry."
"No, I'm sorry. I know I sounded defensive."
She paused and then looked at him. "I've seen television a few times, in a store in town or at an Englisch friend's home.I found some of the programs to be . . . interesting. I can see why our church leaders are worried about it coming into our homes. It was hard to walk away."
They traveled for a few more miles, both of them silent.
"Listen, I'm hungry," Chris said. "How about you?"
"Yes. I can fix us something back at the house."
Chris shook his head. "No." He glanced around. "Everyone's done enough—especially you. I'm sure you had a lot to do this morning, but you gave it up to take me sightseeing."
"Geyan schona," she said simply.
When he raised his eyebrows in question, she raised her shoulders and let them fall. "So willingly done. There are many places to get something to eat. It's one of the reasons people come here—to eat the food that the Amish make. That and to buy some craft item like a quilt—"
"Or a doll from China," Chris finished for her. He shot her a grin to show he could laugh about it himself.
"But really, there's no need to go to a restaurant. I could—"
"No, I don't want to put you to any trouble."
"It's no trouble to prepare a meal for a guest. We're known for our hospitality."
"I insist," he said firmly. "It's my treat."
Hannah had noticed that, like her brother, Chris liked good food and a lot of it. Soon, she pulled the buggy up to a restaurant that advertised Amish cooking and efficiently hitched Daisy to a post. While the restaurant didn't appear as large as some they'd passed, she knew of no better food locally.
"More Amish eat here than tourists," she told him.
"I'm game. I figure any place where the locals eat has good food or it would be out of business in no time."
They walked up to the door and Chris opened it before she could.
A feast of delicious scents greeted Chris as they entered the restaurant.
He'd always been a good eater—after all, most guys were and he worked hard—but eating MREs on the battlefield wasn't his idea of a gourmet meal. And the hospital food tasted like cardboard.Not that the hospital cafeteria could be blamed. The pain of his surgeries had taken the edge off of his appetite.
Now, he found his mouth watering as he smelled the rich aromas and glimpsed the food being served at nearby tables.His appetite increased.
When the hostess led them back to an empty table, Chris quickly pulled out a chair and seated Hannah. It wasn't just a gesture of courtesy. Combat had taught him never to sit with his back to other people or to the entrance of a building.
The counselor at the veteran's hospital called it a common reaction for soldiers returning from war. Then in what Chris supposed was the counselor's attempt to lighten the session, he had joked that a friend of his who taught high school in a small town used the same caution when dining out. The teacher claimed he always felt just a little paranoid that some of his alternative education kids—the ones who had behavior problems—would sneak up behind him.