by Amy Clipston
By the time he joined them, Calvin was looking at him with interest. “Calvin Fisher,” he said quietly.
“Marcus Wengerd.” After they shook hands, he smiled at Alice. “And you must be the woman Irene has told me so much about.”
Alice laughed. “If you still want to meet me, then I know Irene hasn’t told you everything.”
“She told me enough. I’m glad to know you.”
After darting a look at Irene, Alice smiled warmly. “Danke. If you are putting this smile on my best friend’s face, I’m glad to know you too.”
Seeing that Irene looked self-conscious, he said, “I would take the credit, but I think it’s all the snacks we’ve been eating. We were just about to grab some lunch. Would you like to join us?”
Irene put her hand on his arm. “Marcus, are you sure?”
That gesture—and the expression in her eyes—was so sweet. “Jah. Remember, all I’ve had is water.”
“And let me guess, you’ve already eaten a mountain of caramel corn,” Calvin said.
“How did you know?”
“Because mei frau has eaten almost a tub of it,” he teased. Looking back at Marcus, Calvin said, “We’d love to join you. Alice needs to get off her feet for a little bit and eat something a little healthier.”
“Ack, Calvin. I’m fine.”
Irene frowned. “I was going to eat a hot dog. That isn’t too healthy. Maybe we could find—”
Alice interrupted. “I want one of those, Cal. Please?”
He laughed, making it obvious to Marcus that he didn’t like to deny his wife anything. “I guess we’ll eat a bunch of vegetables for supper, hmm?”
They all walked toward the food vendors, and Irene remained at his side. “You didn’t have to invite them to join us, but I’m glad you did.”
“I’m glad too. I’m looking forward to getting to know them.”
“Do you like them so far?”
“Of course. Calvin is sure protective of her. I didn’t expect that.”
“Oh.” She lowered her voice. “Alice is expecting a baby. That’s the reason for him worrying about her vegetables.”
“Ah. That’s wunderbaar.”
She sighed. “It really is. I’m happy for them.”
He smiled back at her, but Marcus wished he could take Irene in his arms instead. Right then and there, she had so much longing in her eyes, it just about broke his heart.
CHAPTER 9
Another week had passed. Another week of Agnes knocking on Irene’s door early in the morning on her days off to ask for help in the bookstore. Another week of putting in forty hours at the diner.
And another week of seeing Marcus almost every day. Sometimes he came to the diner for a meal. Twice he walked her home at the end of a shift.
Though the girls at work teased her, Irene loved his attention. Little by little, she was starting to trust him . . . and to realize she was becoming close to him.
Now they were at his parents’ house. It felt familiar but different too. There were four of them at the table instead of only three.
They enjoyed a simple supper of roast chicken, squash casserole, and rice with Mary Ruth and Henry. After eating, she and Marcus were sitting in the back of his parents’ house in something called a three-season room. She hadn’t really understood what that meant until Marcus pointed out that the night was cool but they were cozy sitting in the wicker chairs and looking out at the backyard in a room made up almost entirely of windows.
He’d brought big stoneware mugs filled to the brim with hot chocolate and Mary Ruth’s homemade marshmallows. The concoction was tasty and as decadent as sitting in a glass room and looking out at the stars.
After taking a couple sips of his own drink, Marcus put his mug down. “You look content. Like a cat with a large bowl of cream.”
She smiled, liking the description. “I feel like that cat. I was thinking that it feels almost sinful to sit in this beautiful space. Sometimes I canna believe that you grew up like this.”
A shadow filled his eyes. “When you say things like that, I never know how to respond.”
“There’s no need for you to respond. I was simply telling you how I felt.”
“I know you didn’t grow up this way.”
Thinking of the small rooms, of the many evenings she’d gone to bed hungry, she smiled tightly. “You’re right. I didn’t. But you know that.” Feeling a little queasy, she picked up the mug again and took another sip.
She realized with a start that her body had been reacting to those memories as much as her head. It seemed she would always have that survival instinct. She remembered her mother’s disappearance when she was eight or nine. Her father had just died, and her mother was gone for two days. Irene closed her eyes. Before her mother left, she tried to make Irene eat a plate of pork and sauerkraut. Irene had refused, finding the spices too strong. Her mother yelled at her and told her she’d learn her lesson, one way or another.
And she had.
Ever since then, Irene was too afraid to refuse anything in case it was never offered again.
Marcus leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Any chance you’re willing to tell me what it was like?”
“I’m not sure why you want to know.”
“Because I want to know more about you.”
Wariness took hold of her. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Is it because you don’t trust me?”
Maybe. “It’s because I get no joy revisiting my childhood, Marcus. That’s all.”
“Maybe you could tell me about Calvin and West.” When she still hesitated, he reached across the small gap separating them and squeezed her knee. “Let me in, Irene,” he coaxed, his tone thick with emotion. “I know you’re still worried about trusting me, but I’ve been trying to change your mind. Let me show you that I won’t hurt you again.”
Marcus was right. She was never going to have a real, loving relationship like Alice did with Calvin if she didn’t start letting down at least some of her walls.
Plus, if she shared, she could find out more about him, too, and she really wanted to do that.
Before she could back down, she said, “I first met West at Bill’s Diner. I didn’t even realize he knew Calvin. That he, um, thought Calvin worked for him.”
“Thought?”
“Alice’s husband was undercover in the gang. West was the leader.”
Marcus blinked. “Boy, I had no idea about Calvin being secretly undercover.”
She smiled slightly, not missing the irony of his statement. “You weren’t supposed to.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I waited on West and one of the other members of the Kings. But then some men I didn’t really like came in and I had to wait on them.”
“Why didn’t you like them?”
“They, uh, used to make fun of me when I was little.” Oh, this was so hard. She took a cleansing breath and reminded herself that having fewer secrets with Marcus would be a good thing. “West heard them and saw me run outside when I got upset.”
“They made you cry?”
“Almost.” She was still happy the bullies hadn’t brought her to tears. “He came out and we talked and he gave me a card with his private phone number on it.”
“Why?”
“He told me he didn’t like how I was all alone in the world. He wanted me to have his number in case I ever needed anything. That’s when he told me he had a lot of power. Um, a lot of influence. That if I ever needed anything or was in trouble, all I had to do was let him know and he’d take care of it.”
“And you took the card?”
“Jah. I don’t know if I ever would have called him or not. But you don’t know what his words meant to me.”
“I’m trying to understand, but he was so different. And a stranger.”
“That’s because you have your parents and the farm you inherited from them, Marcus. They’ve never knowingly hurt you and you’ve never gone hungry. You’ve never
gone to sleep at night knowing that you were completely alone.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing to apologize about.” She smiled at him softly. “After all, if your parents weren’t so kind and giving, I wouldn’t have become friends with them.”
“Or me.”
Realizing that they were now truly friends, she nodded.
“Irene, I’d be happy to tell you more about myself, but it ain’t mighty interesting. I grew up with loving parents, and now I farm.”
“How about you tell me something I don’t know, then?”
“Like what?”
It would be so easy to move into a lighter conversation. They could talk about their mutual interests and likes—maybe even his horses or the animals on his farm.
But that wasn’t enough. She wanted to know something about him that mattered. “How about like Beth?”
All the warmth that had been shining in his eyes disappeared. “She was my old girlfriend. That’s all.”
“Why did you break up?”
“She, ah, she started seeing someone else.”
“While you were still courting?”
“Jah.” He opened his mouth, looked ready to say more, but then, just as quickly, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Irene. I can talk to you about a lot of things, but not that. Not yet.”
Not that. Not yet.
He stood. “I know we just had hot chocolate, but would you like something else?” His voice brightened. “Maybe some peppermint tea? It’s a little chilly in here.”
She searched his face. He looked stressed, like he needed a break from their conversation. “Tea sounds gut,” she murmured. “Danke.”
He gave her a strained smile, then turned and walked down the hall.
Irene was glad she’d worn a green wool sweater over her dress. She curved her arms around herself. He was right. It had become a little chilly. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold breeze outside or the realization that she felt very alone all over again.
CHAPTER 10
He was Marcus Wengerd. Only son of Mary Ruth and Henry. He was Old Order Amish. A farmer and a landowner.
These titles and descriptors fit him. Now Marcus realized he’d been wearing them like a well-fitted shirt.
As he wandered down the halls of the sprawling one-story farmhouse where both he and his father grew up, Marcus realized he’d also begun to feel as if his blessings were his rights. He’d begun to act as if he was better than other people, simply because he was born to the best parents in the world.
To his shame, he realized he used to think he was better than people like Irene Keim.
That wasn’t the case now. She was the one who was impressive. He’d received so much while she had so little, but instead of letting that stop her, she’d used her hardships to propel her forward.
He had a life of security and comfort. In many ways, his only real source of heartache had been Beth’s betrayal.
He’d acted like it was a terrible crisis. And while her duplicity hurt and being rejected was hard, it wasn’t a matter of being homeless or hungry.
Marcus poured himself a glass of water, then walked outside to the back porch. He always thought it was the best part of the house—private and peaceful, looking out on the ten acres of cornfields he now farmed.
Of course, the cornfields reminded him of Irene walking by his side at the fall festival and the story she shared. Now that he was alone, he allowed his dismay and anger to boil to the surface. Anything could have happened to her. She could have tripped and fallen. Gotten too close to a horse or buggy or car. Or someone could have hurt her, taken her.
“Marcus, you around?”
Startled, he sprang to his feet. He relaxed when he saw his neighbor Jesse Lauder. “Jah. I’m in the back, Jesse.”
“I thought you might be.” His English neighbor walked around the perimeter of the house and joined him. “It’s too nice to be inside, isn’t it?”
“It is a gut night, for sure.” He shook Jesse’s hand. “I was thinking I might burn some wood in the fire pit. You want to stay awhile?”
Jesse lifted a can of beer. “Yeah, I even brought sustenance.”
Marcus grinned. Jesse was about his age, a farmer, and a newlywed. About once a week he stopped by for what he called male bonding. It usually involved his one nightly beer and a lot of conversation about their trade, his cows, or whatever confusing thing his bride recently said or did.
“If you brought your beer, I guess I’d better light that match.”
“I’ve got a story for you too. You might even need to top off that glass of water.”
“Sounds serious.”
“Just you wait.”
Marcus grinned as he arranged the wood and kindling in the metal fire pit, then struck a match. The second one caught, and after a few seconds of poking and prodding with a stick, the men had a real nice fire going. It cast a soothing glow and warmed up the chilly night air. It was the perfect accompaniment to the sunset.
“What’s your story about?” Marcus asked as he took a fortifying sip of water and Jesse popped open his beer. “Does it have to do with cows or Samantha?”
“Sam.” Jesse, wearing jeans, a pair of worn tennis shoes, and a long-sleeve T-shirt emblazoned with some country singer on it, sighed. “She’s pregnant.”
Marcus just about choked on his water. After he set the glass down, he grasped Jesse’s hand again. “Congratulations!”
“Thanks.” Jesse smiled, but it was strained.
“What’s wrong? Is she not feeling good?” Marcus pulled two chairs close to the fire pit and they sat.
“It’s nothing like that. It’s . . . Well, it was an accident. We hadn’t planned on having a baby yet. We were going to wait two years.” He frowned. “Instead, we only made it seven months.”
“Ah.”
Jesse looked him in the eye. “Ah? Marcus, you always have good advice. That isn’t cutting it.”
“If you were talking corn or heifers or a leak in your roof, I could offer you some advice. I don’t know much about babies, though. Nothing other than them being a blessing, jah?”
Jesse leaned back in his chair, holding his can in both hands, and stared at the fire. “When Sam told me, I made her cry.”
“What happened?”
“Yesterday morning, right as I was getting out of the shower, she came running at me holding one of those pregnancy sticks.” He cast a sideways look at Marcus. “You know the ones I’m talking about—they actually say ‘pregnant’ or ‘not pregnant’?”
“I’m a bachelor, Jesse. I had no idea such things existed.”
“Oh, just you wait. You’ll find out one day. Anyway, there I was, wrapping a towel around my waist, and she shoves that thing in front of my face.” He lifted his hands, obviously illustrating Samantha’s movement. “Next thing I know, I’m blinking and staring at the word ‘pregnant’ clear as day.”
“Uh-oh. What did you say?”
“About what you would expect me to say.” Looking sheepish, he mumbled, “Something like, ‘What the heck is that?’ But, uh, I didn’t actually say ‘heck.’”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah. It was bad. Samantha’s smile turned to tears, she dropped that stick on the floor, and then she ran into the bedroom. So there I was, half naked with a crying wife and a pregnancy wand thingy staring up at me.”
“Wow. What did you do next?”
“First I got on some clothes, because I figured a pretty big moment like that deserved pants, you know?”
Marcus’s lips twitched. “Uh-huh.”
“Then I did what I knew I should’ve done in the first place. I picked up that blasted stick, set it on the counter, and went to the bedroom to try to calm Samantha down.”
“Did you?”
“I guess.” Jesse wasn’t smiling. “I think I really messed up, Marcus. This was one of the most important moments of our lives and I ruined it. Don’t kn
ow how to make it better.”
“Did you apologize? Say you were happy?”
“Yeah.” After taking another sip, he continued. “And the thing of it is, I am happy. I mean, once I got my head around that we have a baby coming? It’s awesome.”
“Samantha loves you, Jesse. She’ll know you were being stupid.”
He exhaled. “You know what gets me is that I focused on all the wrong things. Instead of realizing what a gift a baby was, I was focused on the stupid idea that this wasn’t what we planned. That starting a family right away wasn’t what we talked about.”
Jesse turned away from the fire’s glow and stared hard at Marcus. “What does that even matter, anyway? Why was I so sure that my plans were the best? I mean, obviously God decided this is the right time.”
Marcus felt like every word Jesse said was directed at him. He’d done the very same thing with Irene. She wasn’t the kind of woman he thought he’d be attracted to. Her appearance in his life had felt too soon—he hadn’t wanted to be in a relationship again for at least a year.
But like Jesse said, what did that even matter if the Lord bestowed such a blessing on him in the first place?
“You were focused on the wrong things,” Marcus said at last.
Jesse blinked. “Yeah, man. That’s what I just said.”
“Sorry. You reminded me that I’ve been doing the same thing with a woman I know.”
A slow smile spread across his friend’s face. “Wait a minute. Do you have a girlfriend now, buddy?”
“Nee. I mean, no. We’re just talking.” One trip to a harvest festival meant one date, not a courtship. “Actually, we only just started. But I got things off on the wrong foot.” And now he’d been afraid to be honest with her, fearing that if he allowed her to see him as someone to be rejected, she might reject him too.
“What did you do?”
“I made some judgments about her based on things I didn’t really know about.” He also kind of forced her to move from his parents’ house. Then, after begging her to trust him, he couldn’t even tell her how hurt he was when he discovered Beth had cheated on him.
Jesse’s eyebrows rose. “That’s too bad, but people do that from time to time.”