The Amish Groom ~ Men of Lancaster County Book 1 by Susan Meissner, Mindy Starns Clark Page B

an Amish father, so how was it that he lived in Orange County?
    They said goodbye, the mother’s eyes still full of questions as they walked away, pulling their suitcases like wagons. I could tell she was worried for me. I smiled at her and then gave a confident wave to assure her I would be fine.
    That’s when I spotted my father. Our eyes met through the milling throng, and he came toward me, looking almost annoyed.
    “There you are!” He reached for my hand and pulled me toward him for a manly, one-armed embrace. “First thing we need to do is get you a cell phone, Tyler. That was crazy.”
    “Hi, Dad.”
    “So. Good flight, then?”
    “Sure. It was fine.”
    He sized me up and then smiled. “You look older.”
    I laughed lightly. “Time passes at the same rate in Pennsylvania, Dad. You look older too.”
    He laughed in return. Actually, he didn’t look older. But he did look different. He had always kept his hair at regulation length, which for the army was very nearly a buzz cut. His hair was now almost long enough to comb. He might have put on a few pounds since he got out of the military, but only a few. He was still fit and trim, a good weight for his six-foot-one-inch frame. He was also sporting a moustache for the first time that I could remember.
    “No, I mean it,” he continued. “You’re taller. And you’ve filled out since I last saw you. How long has it been? A year? Two?
    “Something like that.”
    “Making buggies must be a more physical job than I thought. Either that, or you’ve joined a gym.”
    “ Ya , an Amish gym.” I cracked a smile.
    He laughed and clapped me on the back. “Let’s get out of here.”
    We began to walk, and as we made our way toward the exit for the parking lot, I was again aware how my broadcloth pants, white handmade cotton shirt, and suspenders were out of place. Even with my hat still tucked under my arm, I stood out like a stalk of corn in the middle of a hay field.
    My father had said the airport was about a fifteen-minute drive from his new house, so I didn’t think he would mind if I asked to take a detour on the way to a used clothing store so that I could pick up a few things to help me blend in better. The last thing I needed was to draw attention to myself. I didn’t want to come off as an Amish man trying to fit into the non-Amish world. I just wanted to be a man, Amish or not.
    “Say, Dad. Would you mind if we stopped somewhere so that I could get some jeans and a couple different shirts?”
    “Sure, we can swing by the mall.” He smiled at me. “Liz already bought you a few new things, just like she used to when you were a kid. But we can still stop.”
    “We don’t need to go to a mall. I’m fine with a used clothing—”
    “No, no. New is better. And actually, now that I look at you, I’m thinking you and I are about the same size. You can probably wear most of my stuff too. I’ll pull out some things for you when we get home.”
    We stepped outside the terminal and a brilliant sun greeted me. The icy Pennsylvania morning I had awakened to seemed ages ago under the seventy-two-degree sunshine here. Moments later we were in Dad’s car and pulling out into traffic.
    While he drove, he filled me in on his civilian job, his life as an army retiree, Liz’s trip to Honduras, and her regular work as an RN at a local hospital.
    I was interested in what he had to say but also intrigued with my surroundings, the sheer amount of cars on the roads, and how everyone drove with their windows closed even though the day was beautiful. When he began to talk about Brady, I forced myself to pay attention to everything he said. Brady was the reason I was here—or half the reason, at least.
    “He’s been playing Pop Warner all these years, so we knew he was a shoe-in to play JV as a freshman. But we never dreamed he’d make regular varsity in ninth grade. He knocked the coach’s socks off when he tried out. He’s an amazing kicker. He can send