Growing Up Amish - Ira Wagler [61]
24
Life in the community plugged along. Our world with the wheelchair-bound Titus became the norm. Gradually, slowly, he regained a bit of strength, rebuilding his wasted arm muscles. He could not endure much activity of any kind. He rested long and often. Our brother, and my good friend, now existed in this new, frightful state. He mostly held up well, at least publicly, and with us. But once in a while we could see the flash of desperation and fear in his eyes.
The weeks flowed on, and the months. Titus and Ruth continued dating. Ruth was at our house a lot, since Titus could not go to hers. At least not often, because of all the complications involved. They seemed genuinely happy when they were together.
Marvin and Rhoda were dating right along as well. Going steady. They, too, seemed happy and excited. I looked on with some envy. Felt the yearning, the deep longings stirring inside. Maybe I could find it too, what they had.
Love. Settling down. Contentment. Maybe. Maybe all that could be mine someday. I had my horse. My new buggy was on its way. Soon it would be time to make my move. Providing, of course, that no one else had snatched up the girl I wanted.
And then, right on schedule as Mr. Mullet had promised, my buggy was finished and ready to pick up. We headed over to Milton with Henry Egbert and his old truck and trailer. The buggy sat there in the shop, black and gleaming. The soft interior black velvet glistened in the light; the silver tacks sparkled. I walked around it, inspected it. Breathed deeply the pleasant smell of new canvas, fresh paint, and the velvet interior. I was very pleased with my new wheels. We loaded the buggy and strapped it down and headed home.
Now I was set. My own horse. My own brand-new buggy. All I needed now was a girl.
Even though there were two districts in Bloomfield, the youth still assembled for the singings as one group. At the time, there were probably about seventy-five youth. Roughly half were girls. Girls of every size and shape and height. Shy girls and talkative girls. Girls who were desperate and girls who allowed themselves to be pursued and courted. Lovely girls and plain girls. Bloomfield, like any Amish settlement of similar size, had the gamut of them all, including the one I was eyeing.
She was still quite young, having just turned seventeen. Too young, really, for a serious relationship, but she was a vision to behold—at least to me. Her eyes were blue, and her smile bright and genuine. Her blonde hair waved forward from under her covering, then swept back. She was smart and beautiful. Not overly talkative, but not shy either. She could hold her own in pretty much any setting.
I’d known her for years. Watched her blossom from a spindly kid into a lovely young woman. Been around her and her family. I was comfortable among them all, except maybe when we were alone together, she and I. Which rarely if ever happened.
Her name was Sarah Miller, and she was my best friend, Marvin’s, cousin.
She was definitely part of the elite group, among the prettiest girls in Bloomfield—in my opinion, anyway. Still, she was only seventeen. I fretted. She seemed so young. But if I didn’t ask her out soon, some other Romeo would step in, and she’d be taken.
I had no idea whether she’d say yes if I asked her for a date. I was almost paralyzed by the fear of rejection.
I turned the thing over in my mind. Thought about it a lot. Then decided. And one Sunday I took the plunge, as Marvin