Note:  This excerpt is rather lengthy, but the book is well over the super-plus novel length, and I wanted to give the reader a good solid introduction to Veronica and her world--the world of the conservative Mennonites and Amish--as well as the man who changes her life forever...

PART ONE - THE WOUNDED HEART

CHAPTER ONE - June 1987

 

Veronica has just made excuses to her mother and managed to slip out of church a little early...

Veronica ignored the disapproving glances that she could feel burning into her back as she exited the sanctuary.

She stepped outside into bright sunshine, breathing deeply of the lilac-scented breeze that tugged at her skirt and evaporated the sweat from her skin. Freedom. Out here she could taste it.

Unable to abide it a moment longer, she reached up and pulled off the small piece of white netting that adorned the head of every female member at all times. The covering symbolized humility before God and men. Perhaps that was why it never seemed to fit her quite right.

She crumpled it up and stuffed it into her pocket.

A glance at her watch told her that she had plenty of time before the service let out, and she had no intention of wasting it napping under a maple tree. She set off at a brisk pace that would clear her head, and possibly give her an opportunity to spill a little bit of her soul in song.

She strolled along the side of the gravel road. Her eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the endless fields of sprouting corn that characterized the rolling farmland of Wellesley Township in Southern Ontario. Her only companions were the chattering starlings and the occasional crow that soared overhead crowing aspersions at her invasion of its domain.

A car sailed past. Its excessive speed stirred up enormous clouds of dust and threw stones at her bare legs. She scowled at it as it disappeared around a curve.

The breeze picked up and dispersed the dust and debris. It billowed her skirt about her legs and teased the few strands of hair that had escaped her bun. In another burst of rebelliousness she pulled the pins from her hair. Thick auburn waves that had never felt the sting of scissors tumbled over her shoulders and fell below her waistline. It tickled her face and arms as it swirled and flirted with the breeze. Veronica would pay dearly when she faced the hairbrush that night but the pleasure far outweighed the pain.

She was just considering which song would be the most pleasing to her irritable, feathered friends when she noticed a car stopped a short way ahead. The hood was up and steam belched out from beneath. She noted with smug satisfaction that it was the same car that had screamed past her just a few moments ago.

She smiled. The driver was obviously paying for his recklessness.

But as she approached, fascination gradually displaced contempt. This car was a far cry from the matte black vehicles that stocked the Maple Grove Church parking lot. She reminded herself once again that she had reason to be grateful. At least their particular sect of the Mennonite Church had graduated from buggies to cars, and the members were allowed limited access to electricity and telephones. But for her a radio in the barn was no substitute for a television in the living room, or—God forgive her—a trip to a movie theater. And sometimes her eyes ached to feast on this kind of color.

The car glistened fiery red in the intense morning sun. With its wide sunroof and sparkling chrome, the beast was as alien to her environment as a sleek, black panther. Seemingly of their own volition her fingers reached out and caressed the warm, gleaming metal as she passed.

“Goddamn, stupid, fucking bastard…” She heard a muffled voice from beneath the hood.

The curses halted her in her tracks and her eyebrows arched. She had heard those words before, but her experience with them was extremely limited. And she had certainly never heard them strung together with such emphatic enthusiasm. But rather than afflicting her with the vapors, the words and their spirited delivery intrigued her.

She poked her head around the front of the car. “Problems?”

A man bent over the engine straightened up too quickly and bashed his head against the oily underside of the hood. “Fuck!” he roared. “Where the hell did you come from?”

Veronica blinked. He was about her age, maybe a year or so older, but definitely no more than twenty. His disheveled black hair clung to his forehead in damp tendrils but his cool, blue eyes sparkled. A white T-shirt with rolled up sleeves, and a pair of faded blue jeans sheathed his body from shoulders to ankles and left little to the imagination.

Butterflies fluttered in her tummy.

This man bore little resemblance to the men she knew. Most of them trained their hairline around a sturdy steel mixing bowl. Their wardrobe consisted exclusively of button up shirts, and loose fitting black pants. And while most of them could sling a sixty pound sack of feed without batting an eye, their clothes revealed little. And even on the hottest days, they rarely removed a shirt—and never in front of a woman.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said through lips that suddenly felt quite dry. “I was just out for a walk and thought maybe I could help.”

He rubbed the bump on his head as he studied her. Dark brows furrowed in concentration as he evaluated his visitor. He chewed on a wad of gum. “You from that church up the road?”

“Yes.”

His eyes roved over her from head to hips to toes and back again. His audacity astounded her. “You don’t look much like the other chicks I’ve seen gettin’ in and outta those sorry excuse for cars you folks got.”

“I’m not a chick,” she said as she threw her shoulders back.

He smiled with half of his wide mouth. “Sorry. Women.”

“Why?” she asked, her face growing hot. “What makes me so different?”

“Well, for starters, I thought you had to keep your hair up and wear that doily thing on your head.”

She had forgotten about her unkempt appearance. “The bun was too tight,” she shot back. “And it’s called a covering.”

“Oh. Sorry.” But his expression was less than apologetic. “For another thing, you’re a hell of a lot prettier than any of the others I’ve seen around here.”

Veronica’s face burned with embarrassment and an unsettling irritation. She took a step back. “Would you like me to go back and call someone from the church for you? We do have phones, you know.”

“Hey, hey! Don’t run off.” He stepped toward her. “I didn’t mean to scare you away. I don’t need to call anybody, I just gotta wait ‘til this thing cools down. I got some water in the trunk. My buddy Lenny said he fixed the leak, but I should’ve known that son of a bitch didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.”

“Were you born in a gutter?”

He stared at her, blinked as understanding dawned. “Oh.” He chuckled. “Sorry about that. I live with a brother, two cousins and my dad. I guess we do get kinda comfortable with the swearing. I have to remind myself to tone it down when I’m with women.”

“Oh.” She licked her lips to try and replenish the moisture. “Well…I guess you don’t need any help then.” She continued to back away, but halted in astonishment when his hand whipped out and grabbed her. She stood, frozen, unsure what to do as she gazed down at the grease stained fingers latched about her wrist. Perhaps she should have screamed, or at the very least rebuked him for his boldness, but all she could think of was how strong and warm his hand felt against her skin.

Just as suddenly he let go. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. But really, you don’t have to go.” He ran his fingers up and down the metal rod that kept the hood of the car from slamming down on his head. Finally he relaxed and leaned back against the front of the car as he wiped the grease off his hands with an old rag. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Were you leaving ‘cause you’re scared of me?”

She considered the question. “Maybe. A little.”

He nodded. “Smart girl. Honest too. I like that.”

“Well, I live for your approval.”

He rewarded her sarcasm with a wry grin. “You know what? I’m kinda scared of you too.”

She raised her eyebrows and looked him up and down. He was easily six feet tall, and must have weighed a hundred and eighty pounds. His hands were large and strong, and his thighs—

She dragged her gaze back to his face. “How could you possibly be scared of me?”

“Don’t you know how dangerous beautiful women are? Women like you pack more punch than an H-bomb.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “Is that so?”

He nodded.

“You really think I’m beautiful?” Compliments like that were unheard of in her house.

“You’re kidding, right?”

She shook her head. “No. No one’s ever told me that before.”

“Well, that’s a fucking crime.” He winced. “Sorry. Old habits, you know.”

She looked back down the road. “I really should get back.” Veronica couldn’t say why, but she really didn’t want to. She thought she should be afraid of him—seriously afraid. Even in her sheltered little world she had heard stories of abductions and rapes. This was an ideal scenario for such a crime, and he certainly would have no trouble overpowering her. But, inexplicably, she felt no fear.

He took advantage of her hesitation. “Why? You got lots of time. I drive by here Sunday mornings all the time, and I figure it’s at least an hour before they let outta there.” He tilted his head. “Besides, you don’t really want to go.”

“You’re a mind reader now?”

“It doesn’t take a mind reader to see the way you’re lookin’ at me.”

Veronica set her jaw. “And how, exactly, is that?”

“Like you’d like to eat me up.”

The heat crept into her face again and her stomach knotted at the image his words evoked. She refused to acknowledge the truth of it, and was furious with him for pointing it out. “I’ve never looked at anyone like that in my life. I don’t have the faintest idea what that kind of look looks like.”

“The hell you haven’t. And you just have to look at me to know what it looks like.”

“You’re something else, you know that?” She was sure she was a bright crimson by this time, but still she couldn’t tear herself away.

“So they tell me. Now, tell me honestly, do you really want to go back to that stuffy little church? Or would you rather stay here with me?” His expression left little doubt that he knew the answer to that question all too well. “I thought maybe, once I get this thing cooled down, you might like a ride. I got a set of awesome woofers in the back of this thing. They could blow your ears off. I’d lay pretty good odds you’ve never heard anything like it.”

“Woofers?”

He laughed and the tension drained out of her. It was an easy laugh and his eyes danced with mischief. She couldn’t help but smile in response.

“Right. I guess you’re not exactly up on the latest lingo. Woofers are speakers, you know, for a stereo. The woofers give off the deep base sounds, and the tweeters are for the higher ranges.”

Veronica brightened. “You like music?”

He looked at her like she was from another planet. “Sure. Don’t you?”

She peered around to try and see inside the mysterious vehicle. “What kind of music?”

“Rock and Roll, of course. But I don’t mind a little Blues and even some of the pop stuff is okay.”

The temptation was just too great. She had listened to some of the popular music, but only very occasionally when she could slip a radio into the barn and listen secretly. She had certainly never had her ears blown off. “I’d like that.”

“Which? The ride or the tunes?”

She smiled. “Both.” She watched him tentatively tap the radiator cap to see if it was cool enough to remove. “By the way, what’s your name?”

“Jesse Ward. How ‘bout you?”

“Veronica.”

“Hmm. That’s quite the handle.” He gazed off into space for a moment. “Can I call you Ronni?”

She chewed on her lower lip. “Um, I guess so.”

“Great.” He refocused his attention on the engine. “I think it’s cool enough. Would you mind grabbing the jug of water outta the trunk? It’s not locked.”

She nodded and headed to the rear of the vehicle. “What kind of car is this?”

“Toyota Celica. I always liked the name. You know, Celica kinda sounds like sleek. I got it custom painted. Notice how the paint sparkles in the right light?”

On her way back with the jug, Veronica peered at the paint. He was right. At certain angles the red sparkled into a thousand other iridescent hues. It was a startling effect. “Wow. That’s very pretty.”

He scowled at her as she reached him. “Pretty cool, you mean.”

“Cool?”

“Man, are you outta touch.”

She propped her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Now there’s a shocker. I don’t suppose you’d know the meaning of words like humility and chastity?”

“Huh?”

“Man, are you outta touch.”

Chuckling, he poured the water into the radiator. “Okay, I get your drift.”

Veronica decided to let that phrase pass. She wasn’t familiar with it either, but got the general idea.

She watched in silence as he worked. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the polished chrome. What had he said? That she was beautiful? Had he been teasing? Or were his words sincere? She studied herself in the distorted curvature of the side view mirror.

Her eyes were wide and a deep, jade green, but she had always thought her cheekbones stood out too crisply and her lips were too full. Her father had once called them ‘thick’ and she’d never like the sound of that. But perhaps the overall effect wasn’t completely displeasing.

She glanced back at Jesse as he poured the water into the radiator and decided that she believed him. Perhaps her family considered her beautiful but they never spoke it out loud and, she had to admit, it was very good to hear. Perhaps, coming from a stranger, it meant even more.

Finally, Jesse replaced the cap on the radiator and tossed a glance at her over his left shoulder. He arched one eyebrow. “Ready?” He slammed down the hood and sauntered around to the passenger side. He opened the door and motioned for her to slide in.

Veronica hesitated only briefly before seating herself on the velvety bucket seat. He didn’t close the door immediately. She glanced up and caught him staring at her legs. The hem of her dress had ridden up past her knees and she self-consciously pulled it down again. As if withdrawing from a trance, he dragged his gaze away and slammed the door shut. Veronica caught herself smiling.

A moment later he slid in behind the wheel.

“I have to be back by the time the service is finished.” Veronica had no intention of explaining her whereabouts to her parents.

“No problem. But we gotta get off this gravel and onto some hard top. I wanna show you how this baby can fly.”

Veronica was enjoying his unique way of expressing himself. Unlike the plodding words of the sermon she had just escaped, he danced with the language, turning phrases and meanings in unexpected and colorful ways. For him the words came alive.

He turned the key and the motor hummed. He revved the engine a couple of times and flashed her a grin. “Purrs like a kitten.”

Veronica didn’t exactly agree. She might not be terribly familiar with cars and all their quirks, but she definitely knew cats. There had to be at least twenty of them that roamed about their barn, hunting mice and rats, and slurping up the milk that spilled out of the huge automated cooler. She knew how a purring kitten sounded, and the noisy engine on Jesse’s Celica didn’t exactly fill her with the same sense of contentment. But she just nodded, not wishing to shatter his inflated image of his crude machine.

He pulled away slowly and they drove in silence for about a kilometer. When they reached a crossroad Jesse turned onto the paved highway and floored the accelerator. Veronica was pressed firmly back into the cushions of her seat. The wind screamed about her ears and whipped her hair about her face and up through the sunroof. She gathered it together and held it tightly in a clenched fist.

Scenery flashed by in a blur. Isolated farm houses, wide open pasture land and small clusters of pine and ash trees came and went almost before she could focus on them. The endless corn fields that had just begun to sprout became a solid green haze. The dotted line on the center of the highway blurred together as they tore down the gentle slope of a long hill and started to climb the next rise.

At first she was annoyed with his apparent attempt to impress her, but soon the thrill of acceleration and speed seeped through the protective layers. She was surprised to find herself smiling.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked.

She nodded, closed her eyes, put her head back against the headrest and relished the sensation of speed and freedom.

“There’s nothing like tearing down the highway at a hundred and twenty clicks,” he continued. “I know it can be risky. I’ve gotten nailed by the cops a couple of times. But there’s nothing like it to work out the kinks.”

“Kinks?” She cracked open an eye.

“Oh, I get in fights with my dad and my brother sometimes. They’re okay, but the house is so crowded, and with no woman around to keep the peace, sometimes things get kinda tense. So, when that happens I take off in my stress buster,” with that he patted the dash, “and tear down a few highways until I feel liberated again.”

Veronica nodded mutely. He no doubt lived a very different existence than anything she had ever experienced or could even imagine. The thought at once disturbed and fascinated her.

He broke into her thoughts. “What do you do to blow off steam?”

“I sing.” Her own mouth had betrayed her. She’d never shared that with another soul and yet she hadn’t even hesitated with that response.

“No kidding?”

She shifted in her seat and turned her gaze out across the fields. “You mentioned music?”

“Right. Nearly forgot.” He popped in a tape that was sticking halfway out of the slot in the stereo. As the music began, Jesse laughed out loud. “I couldn’t have picked a better tune if I had planned it.”

Veronica looked at him questioningly.

The music blared through the car. Guitars screamed and drums pounded, the voice that accompanied them was rough and raunchy and yet strangely appealing as it sang of freedom, adventure and youthful rebellion.

A smile trickled across her face as Jesse sang along, “Born to be wi-i-i-ild!” He listened and tapped the beat. “Is that you, Ronni? That’s me. I bet you’re just itching for adventure, just like me. That’s why I’m heading out west. I’m going to university in Vancouver in the fall. I’m sure to find some adventure out there.” He turned to look at her. “Where you gonna find it?”

“I think I just did.”

He raised his eyebrows and wordlessly turned up the stereo a few more notches.

The music was loud. Louder than anything she had ever heard in her life. But she didn’t cover her ears. The beat and the rhythms were insidious. They crept into her psyche, tugging at deep, delightful places she never knew existed.

Jesse spoke over the music. “So how do you like Rock and Roll? That’s Steppenwolf. Great band. You got anything like that in that prissy little church of yours?”

Veronica knew she should be offended, but she wasn’t. How could she deny such a blatant truth? She shook her head. “No. Our music is a lot different than this.”

“I’ll bet.” He paused as the next song came up. The beat and rhythms were completely different, much slower and more melodic. “This is Take it to the Limit. It’s by the Eagles. They’re one of the biggest bands of all time. You know the secret to Rock and Roll? You gotta close your eyes, crank it up, and let it soak into your soul. I love to sing along, but usually I’ve got it so loud I can’t even hear myself.”

Veronica was watching him, spellbound by him.

“Go ahead. Try it.”

She closed her eyes and put her head back. She noticed the music got a little bit louder again. He must have turned it up a couple more notches. He was right. She could feel the beat in her bones, in the pit of her stomach, in her soul. Of course, that was the reason her church banned this kind of music. Her elders were afraid that its relentless, pounding beat would somehow corrupt the innocence of their youth. But this didn’t feel like corruption. It certainly felt decadent, but not in any depraved sense of the word. It assaulted her senses and filled her with contentment. By the second verse she found herself singing along with the chorus. She wasn’t sure exactly what the words meant, but somehow they touched her.

When the song ended Jesse pulled to the side of the road, popped out the tape and turned off the stereo.

She looked at him suspiciously.

He twisted in the seat to face her. “You weren’t kidding.”

“About what?”

“You sure can sing. That must’ve been the first time you heard that song, but you were right on the tune and the rhythms, and honey, you got a voice like Diana Ross.”

“Who?”

“Trust me, it’s a compliment.”

She sat up, leaned forward. “Really? You really liked the way I sing?”

“Shit, yeah!” He flinched. “Sorry. But you should join a band or something.” His fingers tapped rapidly against the wheel, and his eyes glittered. He blinked. “Hey! I might know somebody. There’s this group of guys I used to hang with. They’ve got a band. It’s just a hobby, but they play weekends in some bars and the occasional wedding. Their lead singer’s okay, but he’s got nothing on you. Maybe I could talk to them. I bet they’d love to have you.” He cocked his head and looked her up and down. “‘Course you’d have to lose the dress. They’d probably want you in tight leather and sequins or something.”

Veronica had momentarily lost herself in his excitement, but now reality reared its ugly head. She shook her head. “Thanks, Jesse. But I could never do something like that.”

“What?” He was incredulous. “You’re just gonna waste talent like that?”

She swallowed against a lump in her throat. “Can we just drive and listen a little bit more. I was really enjoying that.”

He studied her, and she could see the disappointment in his eyes. For some inexplicable reason it cut her deeply.

He sighed. “Sure. We’ve still got some time. This is one of my best tapes. I put together a bunch of my favorites. I think you’ll like the rest of the tunes just as much. Don’t hesitate to sing along.” He pulled out onto the highway. “I like it.”

They drove for another half an hour, the stereo blasting and the wind blowing through their hair. Jesse was right. This was the embodiment of freedom. She tried to let the music soak into her soul, as he had suggested. Who knew when she would have an opportunity like this again? She kept her eyes closed much of the time, and occasionally sang along when the tune and the words became familiar enough.

Every once in a while she would catch Jesse watching her out of the corner of his eye, a hint of amusement glinting in those blue depths. He was obviously gleaning great pleasure from helping her experience her first real taste of the sins of the world. He displayed no remorse for the role he was playing in leading her down the road to ruin.

She probably should have been irritated with his arrogance and casual disregard for the values and principles with which she had been raised. But he was so good-natured, and so obviously taken with the music and with her talent, that she couldn’t bring herself to feel annoyed. In fact, several times she caught herself smiling back. Those twinkling blue eyes and that mischievous smile were just as beguiling as the pounding beat and intricate rhythms of the music that swirled around her ears. Maybe even more so.

The husky tones of a Bryan Adams love song were washing over Veronica as Jesse turned the car back toward the church. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to float on the vivid images and emotions that the passionate lyrics evoked. But a moment later she lost her focus on the music.

She felt an odd sensation close to her head. She stiffened, held her breath, and willed her heart to stop its furious pounding against the inside of her chest. Jesse was touching her hair. He was stroking some of the errant strands that lay over the back of the seat.

She remained still, afraid to open her eyes and unsure what to do, but hoping desperately that he wouldn’t stop. Eventually his fingers worked their way up until they rested against the back of her scalp. At last he laced his fingers through the thick mane and cupped her head gently in his palm.

The Earth dipped out from beneath her and Veronica’s stomach rose to her throat. From head to toe, she was a trembling mass of goose flesh, and hardly noticed when the car slowed to a stop. All she was aware of was the massage of his strong fingers against her scalp, and then the incredible heat as his other hand touched her cheek. She opened her eyes just as his lips joined with hers.

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