“About what?” April replied, distractedly, as she piled the chairs on top of the tables.
“Really, April?” Carmen said, folding her arms. “About what? About your sister, who’s been missing for more than a month now.”
April threw down the rag she was holding. She put her hand on her hip and glared. Carmen pretended not to be intimidated. Even though Carmen was playing the role of mentor, she was still terrified of April’s fury, her street toughness.
“What is your problem, Carmen?”
“I just want what’s best for you,” Carmen said, almost inaudibly.
“You’re not my mother.”
“Neither is your mother.”
April’s boldness drained away completely. She hadn’t expected the sharp retort—with its bite of betrayal, since she’d only recently, and with trepidation, shared certain facts about her family background with Carmen.
“Oh honey,” Carmen said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to throw that back at you like that. Look, I’m just worried about you. Joseph seems like a good kid, probably. I just don’t want you to get hurt now, with everything that’s going on. And also, seriously, you need to talk to Sergeant Connors.”
April’s fury returned, spinning slightly out of her control. She stared at Carmen with eyes filling with tears, her lip trembling just a bit. April seemed to be holding her head up at Carmen, defiantly—but the quivering gave her away.
“Is that all?” April said. “We done here?”
Carmen nodded, and April was out the door.
* * *
But Carmen and April soon made up. This dynamic, of fighting and making up, and, in the process, creating an even tighter bond, made April miss her sister even more. She channeled her longing for Rose into her growing Joseph fixation. They were seeing much more of each other, and their gifts were becoming more personal. She would do research for him about the cheese and furniture industries and bring him large piles of carefully organized printouts on these subjects. He would make her little gifts out of wood.
Even though she was on good terms with Carmen, she still wasted no opportunity to get away from the bakery, to give herself some space. Her breaks from work were getting longer by the day. When a summer heatwave broke, and a mild spring-like spell cast itself over the city, April persuaded Joseph to go for longer and longer walks. In her mind, April believed that the farther she could take Joseph from Reading Terminal Market—the more distance she could put between the two of them and the disapproving glances of Joseph’s Amish cousins and Carmen, too—the more Joseph belonged to her alone. And the more time she spent with him, the more distance she could get from her anxieties about Rose.
She and Joseph were never truly alone, though. As they walked through the streets of downtown Philadelphia, people would stop and stare at them. From the faces of these strangers, their giggles, their secretive photos, it was obvious what everyone was thinking: what was this hip young woman doing walking around with an Amish guy? City people, used to seeing everything, hadn’t, however seen this.
On a walk down a picture-perfect stretch of Delancey Street, lined by magnolias, April took Joseph’s hand. They walked almost an entire block hand in hand. The feeling of his strong hand thrilled April. The attention of passersby didn’t bother her in the least. On the contrary, she liked it. A lot. People seemed not only amused by this unlikely couple but, in many cases, charmed. The sight of April and Joseph put a smile on people’s faces. April wasn’t used to pleasing people—it felt strange but not unpleasant.
But it was obvious, too, that Joseph was having the exact opposite experience. He was uncomfortable from the moment she’d taken his hand into hers. And she could tell that his discomfort was only growing with each smiling passerby. After a few minutes, she released his hand, with a sigh. She could tell that Joseph felt much more at ease. And this made her sigh again. She didn’t try to touch him again—and they didn’t speak of it.
* * *
Joseph was the youngest of seven children. Like many large families, the siblings of the Young family divided themselves into two or three separate groups. In his family, the division went like this: the four elder brothers were one unit; the second unit consisted of two sisters and little Joseph. The Young family took birth order very seriously. The oldest children, especially the boys, were given greater responsibility—and they were also given the lion’s share of the family’s resources.
Once Joseph’s older brothers were married off, according to their birth order, the family put all its energies into helping them, and their young brides, locate, purchase, and begin to cultivate farmland nearby. After all these exertions, and after working to secure marriages for their daughters, too, while also maintaining their own family farm, the Youngs had little remaining capital—and even less energy—to help Joseph find his way.
This situation left Joseph with fewer prospects than his siblings—but it also gave him an unusual degree of freedom. From a very early age, he was schooled in the Amish ways, but, at the same time, he was subtly encouraged to be more independent than his siblings. This small seed of independence was something that he grew to cherish. It became a part of who he was—perhaps too much so for his family’s comfort.
“Your boy’s got some serious rumspringa eyes,” Carmen said to April, one early afternoon at the bakery. The lunch crowd had passed through, and the two women had a moment to linger at the counter and catch their breath. Carmen, of late, had been trying to be more supportive of Joseph.
“What’s a rum stinger?” April said. “Sounds like a cocktail.”
Carmen laughed.
“Rumspringa,” she said. “In their language, it means ‘running around.’ It’s basically this period of time that could last from the late teens ’til the early twenties, when Amish kids are allowed to bend the rules a little. The idea is to let them have a bit more of an outlet to be teens—but at the same time to bring the boys and girls together to let them meet and match up for marriages. But some of them really break out. I think your boy Joseph is one of those.”
“Really?” April said brightly. “What makes you think so?”
Carmen grinned.
“What?” April said, blushing.
“Oh nothing. Just never seen you look so interested in anything I’ve ever said. Like, ever.”
“Just shut up and tell me more about rum stinkers!”
“Well, let’s start with that business idea he has . . . to make fancy furniture? That’s not a very Amish thing to do. These people don’t make or sell luxury items. It’s against everything they believe in. And when I heard him talking about it to you, I thought, ‘Oh boy, this kid is going to get himself in trouble.’ And then, of course, there’s how he talks to you. Well, first of all, that he talks to you. But mostly, how he talks to you. . . .”
“How does he talk to me?” April was almost nose to nose now with Carmen.
“Oh, come on, April. You know exactly how.”
* * *
The next day, when April was sitting next to Joseph on a bench in a park, gazing into his dark green eyes, she decided it was time to ask the big question.
“Are you allowed to date girls outside of your community? Asking for a friend.”
“No,” he said, turning away.
“That’s it,” April replied. “Just . . . no? And what happens if you do?”
“You don’t,” he said. “If you do, you are out. Sometimes someone from outside joins. But that is rare.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I understand it,” he said. “It’s how things