Katie's Choice(25)
He immediately regretted the question as John Paul slid his gaze from the road to study him. “I’ll join the church.”
Zane pressed his feet against the floorboards as if sheer will alone could slow the car. “You might want to, uh—” He nodded back toward the road and the creature that had unfortunately ambled out of the woods and into the path of John Paul’s car.
John Paul swerved toward the other side, sucking Zane off the door and throwing him against the driver’s seat. He grinned as if to say, “What’s a guy to do?”
“I thought rumspringa was a chance for you to decide whether or not you wanted to join the church,” Zane asked, once John Paul straightened the car from its death spin.
“It is.”
“But if you already know you’re going to join, what’s the point?”
“I would not miss this for the world.”
Zane braced himself again as John Paul took a turn too fast, but at least now they were on blacktop. Or did that just make it worse?
Suddenly, a familiar white sign came into view, and Zane uttered a few words of gratitude to whoever was listening. They had made it to Clover Ridge without an accident. But the trip had taken longer than he thought it would. Or maybe the imminent threat of death and maiming made it seem that way.
John Paul probably took him the long way around out of sheer orneriness, but Zane wasn’t convinced the crazy driving was anything other than that—a man who had no business behind the wheel. Four more years. Thankfully he’d be back in Chicago soon.
His Amish roommate pulled to a stop in front of the general store, a few slots down from a hitching post where two buggies were tied. The horses neither shied nor glanced in their direction, a testament to their training. Or maybe the horses were as crazy as John Paul.
Zane unfolded himself from the car, making a mental note to not challenge the powers that be by getting into the car with the crazed teenager again. He grabbed his laptop case and followed the laughing John Paul into Anderson’s.
As he stepped into the cool interior of the store, Zane felt as if he’d slipped back in time. Only the hanging lightbulbs and the gently whirring fans were testament to the age of electricity. The planked floor beneath his feet had been swept clean and lightly polished to show off the beautiful oak grain. Merchandise climbed the sidewalls, but in the center of the store, wares were displayed on shelves no more than shoulder high. Across the back stood a candy counter straight out of the ’40s with jars of sweets and a soda fountain lining the wall behind. A pretty young Asian girl sat at one end of the counter, flipping through a magazine, her face hidden by the dark curtain of her hair.
“Oi,” John Paul said by way of greeting. He waved to a man in a white butcher’s apron. “Coln Anderson, come meet our Englisch guest.”
The proprietor wiped his palms on his apron then reached out a hand to shake with Zane. “You must be Zane Carson.”
Zane nodded, a bit taken aback. Small community if news of his arrival had already gotten to town and included his name. “Nice store you’ve got here.”
Coln smiled, nodding his thanks. “It’s a joy and a blessing.”
“Mr. Anderson, Zane Carson needs to charge his laptop. We were wonderin’ if’n you would allow him to do that here.”
“Of course, of course. Right this way.” He led them to the back of the store and behind the candy counter.