the words seized your heart with their passionate plea—NONONONO . . .
I was stunned silent for a moment. Then I asked, “Why country-western music?”
She thought for a moment. “The first time I heard it, it struck something in me. It seemed so free and happy, even the sad songs. Have you ever heard the songs in an Amish church service?”
I shook my head no.
“They are extremely slow and very structured. To an outsider, it would probably sound like chanting. On some songs it takes thirty seconds just to sing one line of one verse. To sing four verses can sometimes take twenty minutes or more. Sunday evening singing, when the young people get together, is a little better, but not much. For an Amish person singing is supposed to be a reminder of all that is worldly and sinful. From the first time I remember singing, I didn’t feel that way about it. Singing made me feel happy. I would ask my father, Doesn’t God want us to be happy? He would say sternly, ‘ Gott wants us to serve Him.’ But can’t we serve Him and be happy? I would ask. He would get so angry with my questions that my sister would break in and ask me to fetch some eggs or go milk the cows.” Tyler gave a deep sigh. “I think I was about thirteen the first time I heard a country song. My cousin Levi had a transistor radio hidden in the barn. The song was ‘I Saw the Light’ by Hank Williams. Ironic, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“And the first time I sang in front of an audience . . .” Her face flushed with emotion. “I can’t really explain it. It’s like I’d never been born until I heard that applause. For a moment, when things are just right, it feels like . . . like love. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like you’re really loved .” She leaned toward me, her eyes bright and desperate. “I can’t let anything take that away from me. I just can’t.”
Before I could comment, we were interrupted by a commotion downstairs. Angry male voices echoed up the narrow basement stairway. Like teenagers to a schoolyard fight, we rushed toward the frenzied sounds.
At the bottom of the stairs we watched Lawrence and Rob wrestle with each other in that awkward fighting dance that never looks as polished and masculine in real life as it does in the movies. Gabe pushed his way into the skirmish and pulled Rob back. Dewey and another man grabbed Lawrence. A trickle of blood trailed down from Rob’s nose; Lawrence’s glasses were lost somewhere in the scuffle. Without them, he appeared younger, his eyes wide and white-rimmed, like an owl’s.
“I mean it,” Lawrence said, stabbing a finger at Rob. “Stay away from her. I mean it.” He shook off Dewey’s arm. “Let me go. I’m fine.”
“Apparently she likes it,” Rob said. “Let her live her own life.”
Lawrence lunged for Rob, but Dewey and the other man caught him. “Get him outta here,” Dewey yelled at Gabe. Gabe grasped Rob’s upper arm firmly and led him up the stairs. Tyler and I stepped aside to let them pass.
“Are you okay, Rob?” Tyler asked, reaching out to him. He irritably shoved her hand away. I widened my eyes at Gabe, who shrugged.
“Too much beer,” he said in a low voice.
“Too much testosterone,” I countered. He winked at me.
“Maybe I should go with them,” Tyler said.
“Let Gabe walk him around outside,” I said. “He’ll cool down, and they’ll forget all about it.”
Becky ran up the stairs past Tyler and me, her face white with anger.
“Looks like Becky’s upset,” I said. “I’ll go up and see if I can help.”
In the cherry-red and white kitchen, Becky stood frowning in front of the open refrigerator.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.
“No, thanks.” She took out a pitcher of iced tea. “I’m just trying to remove myself from the commotion before I lose my temper.”
I hopped up onto the white-tiled counter and took the glass of iced tea she offered me. “What was it all about?”
She poured
I was stunned silent for a moment. Then I asked, “Why country-western music?”
She thought for a moment. “The first time I heard it, it struck something in me. It seemed so free and happy, even the sad songs. Have you ever heard the songs in an Amish church service?”
I shook my head no.
“They are extremely slow and very structured. To an outsider, it would probably sound like chanting. On some songs it takes thirty seconds just to sing one line of one verse. To sing four verses can sometimes take twenty minutes or more. Sunday evening singing, when the young people get together, is a little better, but not much. For an Amish person singing is supposed to be a reminder of all that is worldly and sinful. From the first time I remember singing, I didn’t feel that way about it. Singing made me feel happy. I would ask my father, Doesn’t God want us to be happy? He would say sternly, ‘ Gott wants us to serve Him.’ But can’t we serve Him and be happy? I would ask. He would get so angry with my questions that my sister would break in and ask me to fetch some eggs or go milk the cows.” Tyler gave a deep sigh. “I think I was about thirteen the first time I heard a country song. My cousin Levi had a transistor radio hidden in the barn. The song was ‘I Saw the Light’ by Hank Williams. Ironic, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“And the first time I sang in front of an audience . . .” Her face flushed with emotion. “I can’t really explain it. It’s like I’d never been born until I heard that applause. For a moment, when things are just right, it feels like . . . like love. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like you’re really loved .” She leaned toward me, her eyes bright and desperate. “I can’t let anything take that away from me. I just can’t.”
Before I could comment, we were interrupted by a commotion downstairs. Angry male voices echoed up the narrow basement stairway. Like teenagers to a schoolyard fight, we rushed toward the frenzied sounds.
At the bottom of the stairs we watched Lawrence and Rob wrestle with each other in that awkward fighting dance that never looks as polished and masculine in real life as it does in the movies. Gabe pushed his way into the skirmish and pulled Rob back. Dewey and another man grabbed Lawrence. A trickle of blood trailed down from Rob’s nose; Lawrence’s glasses were lost somewhere in the scuffle. Without them, he appeared younger, his eyes wide and white-rimmed, like an owl’s.
“I mean it,” Lawrence said, stabbing a finger at Rob. “Stay away from her. I mean it.” He shook off Dewey’s arm. “Let me go. I’m fine.”
“Apparently she likes it,” Rob said. “Let her live her own life.”
Lawrence lunged for Rob, but Dewey and the other man caught him. “Get him outta here,” Dewey yelled at Gabe. Gabe grasped Rob’s upper arm firmly and led him up the stairs. Tyler and I stepped aside to let them pass.
“Are you okay, Rob?” Tyler asked, reaching out to him. He irritably shoved her hand away. I widened my eyes at Gabe, who shrugged.
“Too much beer,” he said in a low voice.
“Too much testosterone,” I countered. He winked at me.
“Maybe I should go with them,” Tyler said.
“Let Gabe walk him around outside,” I said. “He’ll cool down, and they’ll forget all about it.”
Becky ran up the stairs past Tyler and me, her face white with anger.
“Looks like Becky’s upset,” I said. “I’ll go up and see if I can help.”
In the cherry-red and white kitchen, Becky stood frowning in front of the open refrigerator.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.
“No, thanks.” She took out a pitcher of iced tea. “I’m just trying to remove myself from the commotion before I lose my temper.”
I hopped up onto the white-tiled counter and took the glass of iced tea she offered me. “What was it all about?”
She poured
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