Turning Home

by Janice Kay Johnson - His Best Friend's Baby

  “Okay.” He shoved back his chair and came around the table, still holding on to her hand. He tugged her to her feet, too, and then bent to press an astonishingly gentle kiss to her forehead.

  If she wasn’t mistaken, he’d just given her his blessing.

  Of course, he couldn’t resist saying, “You know, you don’t have to do this.”

  Julia laughed.

  * * *

  * * *

  LUKE REINED HIS gelding into the alley Tuesday morning. Julia’s familiar car wasn’t there.

  He often beat her here, he told himself. There was no reason to worry yet. He knew he was here earlier than usual, and didn’t bother pulling out his pocket watch. Daad was probably still sipping his coffee at home.

  She’d be along, or maybe she’d left a phone message apologizing and saying she’d be back tomorrow.

  But the bands constricting his chest didn’t loosen.

  Even hoping this way was flat-out stupid, but how could he help himself? And that scared him. He had a big problem where she was concerned. What, he imagined if he kept scrabbling until his fingers were bloody and his nails torn, he’d find a solution? There was only one within his power, and he knew it. When he returned to his faith, this vulnerable yet strong and compassionate woman was part of what he’d given up. He just hadn’t known it then. Was he now to say, No reason I can’t toss that commitment aside?

  From long practice, he removed the harness quickly and slung the collar over the fence rail. Freed, Charlie shook his head vigorously, sending his lush black mane and droplets of sweat flying. Luke tossed some hay into the manger and topped off the water before crossing the alley to the back door.

  Inside, he stopped, painfully aware of the silence. He shouldn’t have driven himself today; it would have been better if he arrived with his father. Luke had made an excuse because he’d feared he couldn’t hide his increasingly bleak mood from his father. Daad had the gift of reading him all too easily.

  He put his bagged lunch in the small refrigerator and prepared to start work. His concentration ragged, he’d been remarkably unproductive this past week. He’d quietly put that handsome slab of elm away in the timber room, given that the right idea for what to do with it refused to gel in his head.

  Thinking he heard a car engine in the alley, he turned to face the back door and waited, not breathing. Sure enough, a key scraped in the lock, and the door swung open. Julia stepped in, her fiery hair backlit by the morning sun, her gaze going straight to him. She looked . . . as disturbed as he felt.

  It was the first time in weeks he’d let himself openly stare at her. “You’re here,” he said inanely.

  “I told Eli I’d be back to work today.”

  “Or Wednesday, he said.”

  “That was just in case . . .” She shook her head.

  “You look tired.” He should have kept his mouth shut, pretended not to notice.

  She hadn’t moved since she set eyes on him. “I am,” she said quietly. “The week was . . . hard.”

  “But you were home with your parents.”

  “I know.” This twisty little smile hurt to look at. “They had dreams for me that will never happen. I hoped they’d understand, but they don’t.”

  What did that mean? He shouldn’t ask; he should get to work and let her go out front and start on hers. She’d probably need all day to catch up.

  But something alien overcame him. This much he could have: the answer to a question that had haunted him from first meeting her. “Will you tell me what happened?”

  Obviously startled, she said, “You mean, with my parents?”

  “No. Why you seem sad when you think you’re alone and don’t have to pretend. Why you dress as though you want to be invisible. Why . . .” No, he couldn’t ask why she was afraid of him.

  Really, he hadn’t needed to ask the question at all. He knew the answer, just not the details. How would learning those details help?

  She looked away for a minute. Said, voice low and scratchy, “I thought you weren’t talking to me anymore.”

  “I shouldn’t.” His hands were knotted in fists, he realized, and with effort loosened them.

  “When I tell them, people look at me differently.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  She made an odd sound. “Oh, why not. What do I have to lose?”

  Her resignation intensified the ache in his chest.

  “I was raped, then beaten. I . . . we think he was trying to kill me. He came close. I was in a coma for two days. I remember parts of it, but not the end, and not his face. The police believe he was someone I knew, or at least would have seen around. They wanted me to identify him, but how could I?”

  In so few words, she’d said so much. Luke wanted in the worst way to put his arms around her, but it wasn’t hard to tell from how she held herself, arms tight to her body, that she wouldn’t welcome any touch. Telling him had thrown her back to the worst moments of her life.

  No wonder she was afraid of men.

  And he didn’t dare touch her anyway.

  “He was never arrested,” he said hoarsely.

  She shook her head.

  “How old were you?” Not a child, he prayed.

  Gazing toward the far wall, not him, she said in a low voice, “Nineteen. It was the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in college. I was subletting an apartment because I’d taken a job for the summer with the financial aid department. I came home after being out with friends, and I forgot to lock the door. Or . . . that’s what they think. He didn’t have to break in.” Her desperate gaze returned to his. “The police kept drilling on that. Had I invited somebody? Or hinted that I might welcome him?”

  “No.” Luke took a step toward her. “You know none of that is true. And if it was, so what? Flirting isn’t an invitation for a man to rape you and hurt you.”

  Her shoulders hunched, and once again she averted her eyes. It might not be conscious, but more than ever she was trying to shrink, to disappear before his very eyes. Guilt seized him. He had done this to her. What had he been thinking? That it would help her to relive an event so horrible, she would forever carry the wounds? Or had he merely been indulging his curiosity?

  No, he could absolve himself of that. His need had gone deeper than that.

  “Julia.” Her name sounded as if he’d scraped it over gravel.

  She said suddenly, “I hear your father. I have to get to work.” She rushed toward him, compelling him to step aside, and yanked open the interior door. Before he could so much as turn, she was gone.

  He stood stock-still, filled with rage and so much else on her behalf. Even if she’d lied about hearing his father coming, Luke knew she wouldn’t want him to follow her.

  In that minute, his faith in a loving God was shaken to the point of breaking. Had that vicious attack been God’s will? Luke wasn’t sure he could bear to think so.

  Panting, each breath harsh, his entire body shaking, Luke imagined trying to forgive the monster that had hurt her.

  No, God asked too much.

  * * *

  * * *

  INCREDIBLY GRATEFUL TO see the pile of work waiting for her, Julia booted the computer from its nearly weeklong rest and immersed herself in bringing the accounting up to date. Along the way, she noted which pieces of furniture had sold so she could remove them from the website, if they’d been on there. She’d have to tour the showroom, too, to look for additions she needed to photograph.

  Of course, her mind wandered.

  She’d had no problem last night telling her brother she wasn’t going to satisfy his curiosity, so why hadn’t she done the same with Luke? This was the guy who’d pretended she wasn’t there for something like two weeks. Why hadn’t she pulled out the tried and true and said, Not your business?

  She blinke
d a few times and focused again on the columns of numbers showing on the monitor. She couldn’t let herself think about that strange interaction with Luke. Not now.

  Twenty minutes after she’d begun, Eli popped out to welcome her back. No surprise, she didn’t set eyes on Luke again the rest of the day. She and Eli left at the same time, Eli not commenting on his son’s early departure, her not asking about it.

  Only later, trying to will herself to sleep, did Julia try to picture the expression on Luke’s face as she’d told him her story. All she knew for certain was that he’d felt something powerful. Surely not rage. How would that be compatible with his beliefs?

  Not disgust, either; he’d been insistent that none of what happened was her fault. Remembering that much gave her comfort. Her parents and Nick had said the same, as had the counselor she saw for nearly a year once she was able to drive herself again. But with the police, there’d always been an undertone. She’d heard other rape victims say the same.

  One careless moment, her arms full when she’d gotten home, and it was her fault she’d been assaulted.

  She looked toward the faintly lit rectangle of her bedroom window and had a puzzled thought. In the past, she felt dirty when she told someone about the worst thing that had ever happened to her, knowing he or she would never see her the same again. This time . . . she’d felt almost cleansed, as if telling Luke had allowed her to let go of subterranean emotions she didn’t even like to acknowledge.

  Or maybe it wasn’t Luke at all. Maybe in examining her relationship with God, she had found some peace.

  Her heart felt . . . warm, as if it contained a glowing coal. Of course she could forgive the man who’d attacked her! she realized in astonishment. All she’d ever had to do was let go of her anger and resentment. She’d blamed him for all her fears, all her anguish, but she might have been freed much sooner if she had done as God asked of her and forgiven a man so troubled. Wanting him to be caught so he didn’t hurt other women, that was different. But what she’d done was allow him to tower over everyone else in her life, casting a shadow so dark, she hadn’t been able to find the sunlight.

  Or hear God’s voice. Psalms 27:1 said it best: The Lord is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; Of whom shall I be afraid?

  And yet she’d let herself fear so much.

  The most astonishing peace swept through her, as if that glowing coal in her chest spread warmth until even her fingers and toes tingled.

  Dear Lord, she prayed, if vengeance is needed, I trust that to You. I pray that the rapist was never caught because he never did such a terrible thing again. I pray he horrified himself, and in seeking to forgive himself, found You, and some peace.

  Tears stung her eyes, but felt good, too, as if needed to complete the cleansing begun by answering Luke’s questions and seeing the power of his response.

  By forgiving her attacker, she dismissed him from the dominance he’d held over her life ever since.

  Julia drew in a deep breath that expanded her lungs to an extent that dizzied her. The man whose face she couldn’t see receded in her mind, became small and faraway, a last glimpse seen in the rearview mirror as she accelerated down a highway. No longer important.

  She wished she could tell Luke how she felt, but that would have to wait.

  At peace with her decision, she knew what she had to do tomorrow.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  WEDNESDAY EVENING, LUKE fed himself and Abby, then chose to go out and attack the blackberries in the pasture again. For the past day and a half, he hadn’t been able to do anything but battle the rage and anguish inside his head and heart. He needed to throw his body into this fight, too, however symbolic that might be.

  As strubly as ever, pigtails sagging, the old blackberry stain on her sacky unicorn T-shirt, Abby sat cross-legged on a blanket just on the other side of the board fence where she could see him and he could see her. Snatching up occasional bunches of grass, Charlie had evidently decided to stay away from Luke, who was inexplicably tearing thick roots from the ground, bleeding from innumerable scratches on his arms. In this fight at least, he had an opponent that didn’t hold back.

  It might be exhaustion that had begun to mute the savagery of his emotions. Physical exertion was good that way.

  He could not go back and save Julia from the horror done to her so many years ago. If her brother and the other police hadn’t been able to find and arrest the man, Luke had no hope of hunting him down now—assuming his deepest beliefs would allow him to do such a thing.

  As he groaned and straightened his back, a faint singsong voice came to him. He looked to see that Abby had lifted one of her faceless Amish dolls to show the horse, who’d stuck his head between the rails to touch the doll with his muzzle. Was Abby talking to Charlie, or just singing?

  Luke stopped in his labors, leaning against the shovel he’d planted hard in the soil. Some of his anger lifted at the reminder of how far that frightened little girl had come. When he opened his heart to her, she had done the same to him, and was healing from her painful beginnings before his very eyes.

  I could heal Julia, too, if I were given the chance, he thought.

  The chance he’d have only if he left the Amish and most of the people he loved. He’d read scripture last night after tucking in Abby, and for all his anger known that he trusted in God.

  Blinking sweat out of his eyes, he accepted that vengeance was not his to take. Forgiveness . . . that would come, too. Given his faith, he had to trust that it would.

  Several cars had passed on the road since he started working, as well as two buggies. Those he’d noted, recognizing the horses and therefore knowing who was driving them.

  Now another came down the road, not from town but going toward it. He shaded his eyes against the setting sun. He knew that horse, too, Bishop Amos Troyer’s mare Finola, distinctive with her flashing white socks worn only on her front legs.

  He automatically checked again on his daughter, to see her patting Charlie’s nose. The gelding nickered, but as Luke watched, pulled his head back through the fence and raised it, staring toward the road. When the buggy turned into Luke’s driveway, his horse trotted and then cantered to meet it and race it along the fence line.

  Puzzled, Luke picked up his shears and carried the shovel with him, too, as he crossed the short distance to the gate. When he closed it behind him, Abby jumped up and ran to him.

  Sweaty, dirty, and bloody, he took her hand rather than lifting her to his hip, and led her to where the buggy had come to a stop. Finola and Charlie were snorting and nickering to each other now as Amos climbed out of his buggy.

  “Friends, I think,” he said, nodding toward the horses.

  “Have they ever met?”

  “Shared pastures on Sundays, maybe.” He smiled at Abby. “I’m glad to see you. Watching your daadi work, were you?”

  Shy, she hid behind his leg.

  “Has something happened?” Luke asked.

  “Ja, something I had hoped for, but still came as a surprise.”

  Amos loved to be cryptic to draw out the suspense. He’d only get worse if Luke revealed his impatience.

  The bishop smiled. “I had a visitor. We talked for a long time.” His eyes stayed keen on Luke’s. “An Englischer, who wishes to join the Amish.”

  An Englischer who wanted to become Amish? That happened so rarely—

  For an instant, the world seemed to stop. The beat of his own heart was all Luke heard.

  “Julia?”

  “Julia?” Abby whispered.

  But the bishop looked at Luke, not at the child who loved the same woman.

  “Ja.” This smile was incredibly kind. “I had the feeling she hadn’t told anyone except your sister.”

  If so, Miriam had some explaining to do.

  Luke shoo
k that off. “Did you agree?”

  “Why would I not?” Amos spread his hands in acceptance. “She already speaks our language with great proficiency for someone who only started learning a few months ago. She knows the Bible well. She convinced me that she believes the Gospel and is prepared to forsake sin and put on true righteousness and holiness. By luck, I have classes scheduled to start soon.”

  Luke came near to falling to his knees under the force of an explosion of joy and hope.

  “I need to see her,” he blurted.

  Bishop Amos smiled. “I thought you might want to. That’s why I came to let you know.”

  Luke looked down at his daughter, who would like to see Julia almost as much as he did—but that reunion could wait. “Will you take Abby to my parents?”

  “I expected to do that, too. What do you say, little one? Will you go for a ride with Amos?”

  Luke crouched down and looked into her eyes. “Please. Amos will take you to Grossmammi and Grossdaadi’s. I will come and get you soon.”

  She was confused, but he didn’t let that dissuade him. He bundled her into Amos’s buggy, gave her a big kiss on the cheek, and closed the door.

  “I need to harness Charlie—”

  Amos stopped him with a hand on his arm. “A smart man would clean up and change his clothes before he asked a woman the question I think you want to ask.”

  It was all Luke could do to glance down at himself. “You’re right. I can take that much time.” He held out a hand and said simply, “Denke, Amos.”

  They shook, and Amos got back in his buggy and steered his mare in a sweeping circle and back down the driveway.

  Luke ran for the house.

  * * *

  * * *

  JULIA STARED AT the page and realized she didn’t remember any of what she’d just read. She was too restless, too—she didn’t even know what to call it. She was going to do this. Her life would change drastically . . . but not right now. This was still her apartment. Who would know if she turned on the TV? Her digital clock would wake her in the morning in time to go to work. She’d drive her car to get there.