His Guilt

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “I bet,” he said with a touch of humor in his voice. “Well, in that case, danke. I’d be happy to come over this afternoon.”

  Her father clapped his hands together. “Gut. Now, can we get along? I’m ready for a rest.”

  “I’ll walk with you, Norman,” her mother murmured. “Now that we don’t have to worry about our Neeta walking alone, we can get on our way and she and Mark can follow whenever they are ready. Are you sure you’re going to be able to walk home? I bet we could find someone to give us a ride in their buggy.”

  “I’ve got some problems getting around, but not that many problems,” Daed snapped.

  Waneta had been so wrapped up in her defense of Mark, she’d forgotten just how weak her father was. Feeling that familiar knot of nerves in her stomach, she said, “We’ll follow in a few minutes. Or, we can walk with you.”

  “No need for that. I’ll be fine. You just make sure you don’t tarry too long.”

  “I’ll make sure she gets home safe,” Mark said.

  “I know you will. Danke, Mark,” her father said. “Waneta has a good head on her shoulders. She ain’t going to trust you for no reason.”

  When they were out of sight, Mark turned to her. “What just happened?”

  “You have just been subjected to tornadoes Norman and Gettie. They have a way of coming in and creating havoc wherever they may be.”

  “That’s putting it a bit strong. Ain’t so?”

  “You are saying that because you haven’t lived with them all your life. They have a bad habit of turning everything upside down in their path.”

  “It’s impressive. Are you upset about this? I couldn’t tell. I would have tried harder to put them off if you didn’t want me to visit your house.”

  “I want you to come over, Mark.” Realizing how she sounded, she said, “I mean, I know you don’t have a lot of friends here yet.”

  “Ah. Now I understand.” He smiled, but it was strained. “Are you ready now?”

  “I am.” She started walking before she said anything else that could have been taken two ways. “We don’t live far. Just off Second Street.”

  “I know where you live.”

  “You do?”

  He coughed. “Sorry. I meant that I’m assuming you live in the same house you always have. If so, I remember it.”

  “I live in the same one.” Laughing softly, she decided to say what was no doubt lingering on both of their minds. “We’re sure doing a good job of stepping into holes, aren’t we?”

  “We are, but we seem to be getting a little better.”

  Though she felt June watching her, Waneta smiled at him.

  She couldn’t do anything about June’s worries and doubts. Nothing except hope and pray that they were unfounded.

  CHAPTER 9

  Sunday, August 7

  Mark had spent most of the previous day ripping out the linoleum that covered the first floor of his house. Someone—he wasn’t sure whether it was his parents or whoever lived there before them—had covered up beautifully finished wood floors with industrial-grade linoleum.

  Now that it was over twenty years old, it was yellowed and cracked. The edges next to the woodwork were peeling, too. When he’d first pulled up a corner, he imagined only finding cement underneath. Discovering a wood floor in good condition had been a nice surprise.

  The hard physical labor had cleared his mind and allowed him to come to terms with the fact that someone had been in his house. But he had no idea who it could have been. He hadn’t discovered that anything was damaged; nothing seemed to be missing, either. His stash of money was still exactly where he’d hidden it—taped to the bottom of his parents’ old dresser.

  For some reason, it seemed that the intruder had only wanted to examine everything. Mark imagined he had simply walked inside, fingered some of his items, then left.

  That should have given him some measure of peace. Instead, because he couldn’t figure out why anyone would want to come into his run-down house and inspect his few belongings, it had set him more on edge. He’d tossed and turned all night, half expecting to hear footsteps signaling the return of the intruder.

  When he’d woken that morning to only the chaotic chirping of a pair of robins outside his window, he resolved to put those fears behind him. There was nothing he could do anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to go to Sheriff Brewer and share his suspicions.

  Instead, he had greeted the day with two strong cups of coffee and a short walk to the Bylers’ home. They were hosting church this week.

  The coffee, the almost cool morning, and the brisk walk had put Mark in a better frame of mind. By the time he arrived at the Bylers’ and took his place with the other men on one side of their metal-sided barn, he felt almost at peace with himself. To his surprise, that sense of peace had stayed with him during the lengthy church service.

  But as far as what was happening now?

  Well, he could safely say that nothing in his life had prepared him for Norman Cain seeking him out when everyone was lining up to leave.

  “Mark, stay and talk to me a while, wouldja?”

  Towering over the smaller man with a far bigger reputation, Mark did the only thing he could do. He nodded.

  While most everyone else passed them by, Norman sat back down. “You don’t mind sitting for a spell, do you? My legs don’t work like they used to.”

  “Of course not.” He sat, too, turned slightly, and rested his elbows on his black pants.

  “Let’s wait a moment to talk. My ears don’t work too good anymore, neither.”

  Nodding weakly, Mark settled in his chair and waited.

  As passing seconds turned to minutes, his palms began to sweat.

  Truth was, he knew all about how to sidestep conversations. He was a master at avoidance. He was extremely good at shielding his thoughts and making sure no one knew what he was thinking. All of those skills had developed because of the life he’d had at home.

  He’d put them into good practice when he’d been accused of assaulting Bethany and had been taken in for questioning. The whole time Sheriff Brewer questioned him, he’d answered honestly but with no emotion. Looking back, he imagined that he’d probably sounded more interested in the weather than in Bethany’s death.

  No wonder Sheriff Brewer hadn’t believed Mark at first. He’d kept him in the county jail for two nights while he and his deputy had gathered evidence and questioned other people. And later, when he’d told Mark he was free to leave, Mark had taken care to keep his face an expressionless mask. Though the sheriff had obviously not trusted him, he’d let him go.

  But now?

  Now he couldn’t remember a time when an upstanding man like Norman Cain had gone out of his way to talk to him. It had to be about Waneta. Maybe he was going to chide him for not being nicer to his daughter?

  Or was it something else?

  When the barn was finally empty except for the two of them, Norman breathed in deep. “Feels gut to have room to breathe. Some days, I think I’m going to expire in these crowded barns.”

  “It does get warm,” Mark agreed.

  “What did you think of the sermons today?”

  “I enjoyed them.”

  Norman looked pleased. “Gut! Me, too.”

  “Ah. Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? Church today?” Maybe Norman didn’t want him there?

  Norman waggled his hand back and forth. “Kind of.” He shifted and raised his voice. “See, it got me thinking. Well, the sermon and Waneta’s lecturing did. I decided we needed to invite you over for supper.”

  The invitation was so unexpected, he was sure he’d misunderstood. “Excuse me?”

  Norman raised his voice even louder. So loud it fairly echoed among the barn’s rafters. “I want you to come over for supper this afternoon, Mark Fisher! Join me, Gettie, and Neeta.”

  “That’s why you wanted to talk to me?”

  “Jah. What do you say?”

  “I say,
Thank you.”

  His brow puckered. “Is that a yes?”

  Mark laughed as he stood up. “Jah, Norman. It is a yes, all right.” After all, how could he have refused an invitation like that?

  “Oh! Gut.” After he struggled to his feet, he turned to shuffle down the empty aisle. “Go find Waneta in ten minutes or so,” he called out over his shoulder. “I need to go tell Gettie that you’re coming over.”

  Watching Norman leave, Mark did something he hadn’t done in a very long time. He laughed. Right there, in the middle of the Bylers’ empty barn—he laughed until tears formed in his eyes.

  LATER, AS HE walked by Waneta’s side, Mark’s good mood was still intact. She, on the other hand, seemed to become more and more nervous. They’d hardly said a word to each other for the last ten minutes. However, he didn’t think it was because she still feared him.

  No, he was fairly certain it was because she was trying to save him from her parents’ nosiness. She was looking out for him. He’d tease her for being his defender if he wasn’t so humbled by her intentions.

  When they were about halfway to her house, she glanced up at him. “I suppose we should talk. I feel foolish walking without saying a word to each other.”

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me.”

  “Why is it okay? Do you not want to talk to me?”

  He laughed. “Waneta, I’m walking by your side to your house. Obviously I don’t mind talking with ya.”

  “My parents asked you to walk with me.”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to. You have to know that.”

  Looking sheepish, she smiled. “I do know that. You are a man with your own mind. I don’t think you would ever do something you don’t want to do.”

  “I’ve done plenty of things I didn’t want to do. But this ain’t one of them.”

  Her eyes widened at his blunt reply. “I never know how to respond when you say things like that.”

  “Say whatever you want, Waneta. I’m not going to get mad.”

  “When I’m with you, I feel all flustered. I don’t know why.”

  He knew why. But he also wasn’t willing to rehash their differences in backgrounds again. Determined to make an effort, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Do you have a pet?”

  “A pet?” She wrinkled her nose. “Nee. Why?”

  “I don’t know. I thought you probably had one. Most people have pets.”

  “Not me. Do you?”

  “Nee.” Now he was feeling flustered, too.

  She smiled suddenly. “I guess most people have pets, except for the two of us.”

  He chuckled. “It would seem so. So, why don’t you have one?”

  “I don’t know. I guess my family really ain’t pet people.” Looking a little defensive, she added, “A lot of people aren’t, you know.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to chide her for being so prickly. But then he remembered that he was attempting to build a conversation, not start an argument. “I was thinking of getting a dog,” he blurted.

  “You were?”

  “Yeah.” When he saw her raise her eyebrows, he asked, “Why are you acting so surprised?”

  She pursed her lips. He thought he’d blown the conversation yet again. However, after a minute or so, she spoke. “I’m surprised only because I know that you work a lot. Dogs take a lot of time.” She coughed. “I mean, I am assuming they do. What kind of dog do you want?”

  He wasn’t a liar, but he was starting to feel like one, since he’d actually never given what type of dog much thought. “It doesn’t matter to me. I thought I’d go to the pound and see the dogs there.”

  “That will be so sad. They all need homes.”

  “I bet you’re right,” he said slowly. Just imagining dog after dog in cages, each one desperate to be let out, made a lump form in his throat. Why had he started this conversation anyway? “It will be hard to make a choice.”

  Blue eyes shining, Neeta added, “It’s going to be wonderful-gut, though. Don’tcha think?” she asked, her tone wistful. “Mark, you will be rescuing a dog who needs a home.”

  Though she’d said his name before, she didn’t say it often. Hearing his name on her tongue sounded good. “That will be wonderful. Wunderbaar.” Impulsively, he said, “You should come with me.”

  “What?” Before he could take it back, she stopped and stared at him. “You really wouldn’t mind me coming with you?”

  He shook his head before he remembered that he hadn’t actually planned to get a dog. “If you’d like to come, I’d be happy about that. I’m sure picking a dog will be a hard decision.”

  “You are going to need to find one who won’t mind being home alone during the day. I think a big dog, too.”

  “Why big?”

  “Because you’re big.” Her eyes widened. “I mean, um, I just assumed a man like you would want a sizable hund.”

  He chuckled at her expression. “I guess I had a big dog in mind.” Then, because he couldn’t seem to stop himself from digging his hole deeper, he found himself doing something he’d never done before. At least, not in recent memory, anyway. “Well, maybe we could go get one in a month or so. After I get the floors in my house fixed up.”

  “The nursery won’t be as busy in another month. I could probably get a Friday or Saturday off in September or October. You, too.”

  Liking that they were making plans so far in advance, he nodded. “We’ll pick a weekend when there isn’t church. That way I’ll have all Sunday to spend with it.”

  “That’s a gut idea,” she said as they walked up her front porch. “Mark, danke for asking me. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

  “What is going to be fun?” her father asked.

  “Mark is going to adopt a hund from the shelter in a month or two. He asked me to go with him to pick it out.”

  Norman looked at him in surprise. “I see.”

  Mark felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. “That is, if it is okay with you, Norman.”

  If anything, her father looked even more taken aback. “Well, now,” he murmured. “I guess it is.” Still looking reflective, he said, “Neeta, go help your mamm in the kitchen for a few minutes. She’s making iced tea and putting cookies on a tray for our guest.”

  “I feel bad about you going to so much trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble at all, Mark,” Norman said. “When people come over, my wife feeds them, whether they want to be fed or not.”

  “I’ll be right back, Mark,” Waneta said before walking into the house.

  When they were alone, Norman gestured to one of the empty chairs that dotted the porch. “Have a seat and tell me about this dog you want.”

  “I, um, was just thinking about maybe getting a dog. I never intended to ask her to accompany me to the pound. It just kind of happened.”

  “That’s the funny thing about our daughter. She inspires others to do all sorts of things they didn’t intend to.” Stretching his hands out in front of him, he chuckled. “You’d be amazed about the things she’s encouraged me to do. Or maybe not.”

  “Like I said, if you’d rather me not take Waneta to the pound, I understand.”

  “You might understand. She would not. My daughter is a woman who doesn’t change her mind.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As if that settled that, Norman stretched his legs and crossed his ankles. “So, how are things going for you?”

  “Work is fine,” he said carefully. “I like the nursery. I know Henry pretty well and am glad I can help him with some of the heavy lifting.”

  Looking satisfied, Norman nodded. “Henry is a gut man. He don’t hire fools, either.”

  Since he was obviously referring to Henry having also hired his daughter, Mark said, “No, sir.”

  “And your haus? How goes it there?”

  Mark knew Norman was looking for honesty, so he gave him that. “It’s been difficult. It needs a lot of work. I’m curre
ntly ripping out the old linoleum flooring.”

  “Pulling out old linoleum ain’t easy. It’s a difficult undertaking.”

  “It is, but it will be worth it, I think. I discovered oak floors underneath in good repair. After I work on them a bit, they’re going to be really fine. They’ll make the whole place look better, too. Fresh.”

  Norman raised his eyebrows. “Fresh. Jah, I can see how that might be the case. Won’t that be fine.”

  Feeling more eager and less like he was sitting for an interview, Mark nodded. “I believe so. When I made the decision to move back there, I knew I needed to make a lot of changes. My insides need it.”

  “I can understand that. You might not like me saying this, but I’ve often thought of you and your brother. You two had a hard time of it.”

  “We did.” There was no reason to pretend otherwise.

  “Was it difficult to make that choice to come back?”

  “At first, no. Hearing that I could live somewhere rent free, it felt real good. But making my way back here was hard. That house was not a happy place. Not for me, not for any of us, really.” Exhaling, he said, “But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that the house is just that. A house. The memories hurt, but I don’t want them to define me.”

  Norman eyed him steadily for a long moment before slapping his hands on his knees and standing up. “I’m verra glad you came over today, Mark. Mighty glad.”

  “I appreciated the invitation.”

  “Well, now. I think it’s time I fetched Neeta. I imagine she’s helped her mother enough for now.”

  After Norman departed, Mark sighed in relief. He felt as if he’d passed a test. He wasn’t sure what Norman Cain had been hoping to discover that had been lurking inside of him, but it seemed that whatever he had been looking for, he’d found.

  Unbidden, twin feelings of pride and embarrassment filled his insides. He’d been accepted. Deemed acceptable. That affirmation also left him feeling pretty embarrassed. He was twenty-six. Far too old to be needing acceptance from Waneta’s father.

  Far too old for it to feel so gratifying.

  “Mark, are you all right?” Waneta asked. She had just stepped out on the porch. Two tall glasses of iced tea were in her hands.