Amish Jedi: In a City Far, Far Away

Episode 15.1 ~ Edward

I'm not sure if I should be thankful or upset that I never found Jason on Christmas morning. Over the next few weeks, I wonder about that a lot. What would I have said to him? I still don't know.

But Jason did stop by the following morning while John was at the pizzeria. More level headed after spending the day making wedding plans and eating at Betty's, I apologized to him. 

"I was mean to you, and I shouldn't have been. And I judged you unfairly." 

He gazed at me with an expression I couldn't place. "Promise me something?"

"Anything if you'll forgive me."

"I forgive you already," he smirked. "Always be honest with me, even if it is mean."

I huffed a laugh. "It seems I'm incapable of doing otherwise, so I suppose it's safe to say I promise."

"Good." His smile widened as he gazed at me. 

"There's one more thing, though..."

"Hmm?"

"Do you forgive me for saying 'yes'?" My stomach knotted up as I waited for his answer. 

"You're my friend, Zia. You're not always going to make choices I agree with, but that doesn't mean I'm mad at you." 

I nodded as I let those words replay in my mind. "Thank you."

Jason leaned down and kissed my forehead. "You're welcome." 

That was it. Quick and simple. He had to go to his office. And now we're on good terms again. Semi-good, John still doesn't care for Jason which makes being friends difficult. We're staying in New York for the foreseeable future so, hopefully, John will stop being jealous once we are officially married. At the same time, Jason never brings up John or my wedding plans if he can help it. Handing him the invitation is the closest we come to a conversation about the event. He simply thanks me and slides the envelope into his pocket. 

Megs, on the other hand, has been unable to speak of anything but the wedding. She's maid-of-honor, wedding planner, dress designer, and everything else I need. I feel a bit like Bella with my own Alice. I've done very little actual planning, though I've had more time since sending the book off to my publisher. 

I do see more of John. He's no longer an elf, and we've been attending mandatory pre-marital classes with the pastor of our church — Jason's church. We're on a rush schedule, we meet three days a week. Our wedding is scheduled for Wednesday, January 13th. In other words, tomorrow. 

We've allotted Megs a shoe-string budget, and I've insisted — possibly to my detriment — on keeping the event simple. There will be eight guests, and Frank and Betty are donating the reception dinner at their house. I'm making the cake because I don't trust anyone else to do it right — which caused a minor debate with Betty, but Frank calmed her down. And Megs is giving us the apartment for the week so we can have a honeymoon. 

It's not much, but all we can afford for now. Back home the whole community would be invited to dinner and we'd go on a two-week honeymoon. Then again, living in Ohio is far less expensive and we both had higher paying jobs than we do in New York. 

Sitting inside Tea and Tales, shivering as I gaze out the window, all of this plays in my mind. A plate of half-eaten cinnamon rolls rests on the coffee table between Martin and myself. Coaxing him indoors is easier with the temperatures below zero. I've just escaped my final fitting with Megs. The dress is beautiful and perfect for John, but my heart, like a dead battery, is unable to spark any joy in me. I love John and I want to marry him, but the occasion just reminds me of how much I miss my family. How they should be here — or I should be there, getting married in their barn with all the people I love. I always saw John as the cement that united all the people important to me. Lately, though I try not to, I see him as a wedge. 

"You're feet getting cold?" Martin cuddles a mug of tea to his chest. 

I frown. "They're freezing actually. I should have worn thicker socks." 

"You're getting hitched tomorrow, that's not warming you up?" Martin pries like he's taking a crowbar to my soul.

"I miss my family," I admit. 

"They didn't want to come?"

I smile a sad smile. "They begged me to have the wedding at home, but John doesn't want to go back."

Martin huffs to himself. I ignore him. He's right. John should go home with me, but we can all be selfish from time to time. And, if he did do more than just date a girl back home, I'm not sure I want to get married wondering who in the crowd knows my husband better than I do in certain ways. Who knew him first. Who took something marked as mine since I was five and he was seven?

"Would you mind telling me about them?" Martin asks a bit sheepish, which appears awkward on such an imposing figure. "I only ever met Grams and Gramps and your parents." 

I take a deep breath. Speaking of my sisters is painful but a part of me wants to feel that pain. Anything to have them, even the memory of them, present with me. 

I tell Marti about Hannah. How she's the most beautiful of all of us. He scoffs at that, but I tell him to just trust me. She's also the most Amish. She does everything perfectly. Quilting, jarring, laundry, sewing dresses. She's going to be the perfect Amish wife to someone one day. Probably before she's twenty. 

Then there's Miriam. Well, she's already as good as married. She's the sweetest of all of us girls — Martin does not scoff at this and I don't take it personally. Miriam has flaming red hair but the calmest demeanor of anyone I've ever met. She captivated one of John's younger brothers, Levi, when they were just kids. Now he follows her around everywhere like a puppy — like a werewolf. They have a lot in common. Miriam is also the closest thing my father has to a son. She loves to be outdoors farming. She raises her own chickens and sells the eggs. Then she helps Levi with his bee farm. They are quite industrious and will probably take over the Zook farm when they're old enough. They're only fourteen now. 

Sadie and Ariel are the youngest. Sadie reminds me a lot of Luna Lovegood. She's spacey and not many people get her. But she's got an incredible musical ability. I don't think she'll be able to remain Amish, but that's okay because my parents already expect her to take the "Zia route." Sadie is most like me, though it's hard for us to connect because I don't get music at the level she does. She's a composer who adores film soundtracks. I'm a word girl. Still, I get her and I like to think she gets me. 

Ariel, she's a character. I'm not even sure she's from this planet half the time. She's fierce and intense — "Sounds like someone I know," Martin says with a wry grin — and she loves with her whole heart. It's crazy intense when she takes a liking to you. It's like, I shake my head searching for the right words but not fully finding them, she latches onto your soul and no matter what you do you can't not love her back. She's stolen a lot of hearts. John's included, and his youngest brother who was only born a few days apart from her. 

Then again, if Ariel doesn't take a liking to you, watch out. Her scorn, while not as intense as her love, packs a punch — sometimes literally. I tell Martin about her desire to fly. The comical stories, and the ones that are only funny now that her broken bones have healed. Ultimately, she's settled for a miniature zip-line in the backyard. "But one day she's probably going to go sky diving or something." 

"Ariel's my kind of gal," Martin smirks. "Maybe I'll get to meet her one day..."

"I hope so."

The café door opens, letting in a blast of arctic air. Frank steps in among a flurry of snowflakes. The temperature warms again the moment the door shuts. He makes his way to Martin and myself, his hair peppered in melting snow. "Your aunt would like to extend an invitation to dinner tonight." 

"But she's cooking the reception meal for tomorrow." Why do I sound panicked?

Frank shrugs. "You know how she is, and she's already cooking so, for the sake of peace, we'll see you there at seven. John already knows." 

I nod. "I'll be there."

Frank stands there a moment. "You're sure about this?"

I know he's not asking about dinner with Betty. "I'm sure I love John." 

"Okay, then," he tucks his mittened hands in his pockets, "seven o'clock sharp." 

I nod again and watch as he turns and heads back into the snow.