Amish Jedi: In a City Far, Far Away

Episode 11.1 ~ Riddikulus

I clasp the collar of John's English suit jacket, pulling his lips harder against mine. His hands roughly tug at the white chiffon Megs encased me in. In the background, I know there are people. Our guests. Celebrating our union. But my sole attention is on my friend, my love, my husband—John.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind Betty's words replay, I've never known a Miller girl to take anything slow. 

My eyes snap open and John pulls away from me, smiling mischievously. "Tonight, Zizi," he says, brushing my cheek with his hand. The gold band on his finger catching the butterscotch sunlight that bathes my parents' barn. 

My stomach cartwheels through my abdomen. Nothing can possibly extinguish the happiness of this moment. 

Then, over John's shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Jason. A deep scowl on his face. My heart sinks to my stomach, and my eyes snap open. 

Hyperventilating, I throw my bed covers off and crawl to the window I left cracked. A draft of icy air envelopes me, but I still push the window up a few more inches and take deep breaths. 

John's been on Burrow Street for one week. It seems that Jason purposely visits when he knows John is working. But, in the brief encounters they do have, Jason treats him with cold cordiality and John isn't any nicer. 

My breathing calm, I glance over my shoulder at the clock on the nightstand. 5am. John will be over in an hour for breakfast. He's being English for me, so I'm trying to make Burrow Street as Amish for him as possible. And that means cooking full breakfasts each morning, lunches in the afternoon, and dinners in the evening. Doing his laundry—tossing it in the bag with mine and sending it off with Megs. And curling up on the couch to read quietly with him at night. He reads the paper front to back each day. I crack open my Kindle. Occasionally, Leah joins us for these quiet reading sessions. They end when Megs arrives home. 

Each night, John kisses me passionately before heading back to Frank and Betty's. 

We can't keep this up much longer. 

Closing the window so it's open just a crack, I pull on my robe and slippers and head to the kitchen. 

Yawn. 

Megs is already up and in the shower, so I don't try to be quiet as I pull out the pans and ingredients for pancakes — John's favorite. He has a lot of favorite foods. The dude loves to eat. 

Megs is annoyed with me for her three-pound weight gain in one week, so I make her two eggs as the cakes sizzle. Not usually a breakfast person myself—especially after bad dreams—I add a pot of milk to the stove to brew a large mug of cocoa. 

A few minutes early, there's a light tap on the door. I open it for John. He walks in with a wide grin, damp hair, and the paper wedge under his arm. "Zizi," he says the name like it means "love." My heart sizzles. 

"I'm making pancakes." I push up on my toes to kiss him. 

"Mmmm..." 

We back into the kitchen, John's hands on my waist, mine wrapped around his neck, kissing like we haven't seen each other in years. Reluctantly, I stop him when my internal alarm tells me it's time for the cakes to flip. 

John takes his place at the table after setting out the plates and utensils and pouring himself a tall glass of OJ. 

"How are Betty's cabinets coming along?" 

"I'll have them in today," he says less enthusiastically than I'd like. Without his tools, he can't make Betty's cabinets himself, so he's installing pre-made cabinets. They are very pretty, but John's a woodworker.