The Bishop's Daughter

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The Bishop's Daughter Page 9

by Patricia Johns


  “The shame,” he said, understanding in his voice, and she felt a wave of relief at being able to say anything about her brother at all.

  “We can’t say that we miss him,” she went on. “If we talk too much about him, we’d be a bad influence on others who might be questioning or confused. We can’t let our personal grief shake someone who might be in a weak place.”

  “You could always talk to me.”

  “You’re the one who lured him off,” she said, bitterness oozing out of her tone.

  “Maybe so.” His voice stayed low. “And maybe even because of that, I’m strong enough to shoulder it.”

  That was something. He was a part of this mess, and she had no obligation to protect him from it.

  “I know you resent me,” he went on. “I understand that. But I’m also the only one who knows all about Absolom and what this has done to you. So, I’m . . . safe, I guess.”

  “You aren’t safe,” she replied ruefully.

  “No?” She heard the smile in his voice and she refused to look at him. “Still?”

  She felt a surge of annoyance. She couldn’t let him know how he’d been making her feel. It wasn’t his fault. It was hers—and she had to stop this.

  “Don’t tease me, Elijah,” she said. “You don’t get to do that. We might have been young, but you broke my heart back then.”

  Elijah’s smile slipped. “I’m sorry, Sadie. If I could undo it, I would.”

  “Undo what? The kisses and promises? Or leaving?”

  Because Elijah and Absolom had plans in the city—and even in this letter, Absolom was calling him back.

  “I’d still have kissed you, Sadie.”

  Her cheeks heated. It was pain for nothing. And if she hadn’t learned that early lesson about these fluttering feelings and fragile hopes, she would never have chosen the husband she did. But Elijah didn’t regret leaving like he had. Elijah’s feelings for her hadn’t been strong enough to alter that course.

  “Absolom should have told us about his daughter.” Tears welled in her eyes. “He should have told me.”

  “He does miss you,” Elijah said. “He says it all the time.”

  “But he doesn’t write.” She sucked in a wavering breath. “And neither did you.”

  “I missed you, too,” he said after a moment. “More than you know. But I couldn’t write to you. What would be the point?”

  Sadie eyed him uncertainly. “You could have said that you were okay.”

  “You wouldn’t have written back.” He raised his eyebrows. “Would you?”

  “No,” she conceded.

  “And I had feelings, too, Sadie. To write you, and get nothing back—” He shrugged faintly. “That would have hurt.”

  She’d been thinking of his rejection of them, not of his feelings of rejection from her. She didn’t know what to say, and so she looked down at the folded letter in her hands instead.

  “I’ve got work to do,” Elijah said. He didn’t wait for a good-bye. He started walking back toward the buggy barn and the abandoned wheelbarrow. His broad shoulders swayed with his natural gait, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his body moved, the way he kicked out his boots when he walked, the way he tugged at his suspenders.

  He said that he wouldn’t have undone those kisses they’d shared. She breathed out a sigh.

  Given the chance, she would, though. Because she hadn’t bounced back.

  Chapter Six

  Amos and Elizabeth Hochstetler arrived the next afternoon, and, for all of Samuel’s excitement about seeing his grandparents, he suddenly realized that he didn’t really remember them, and he became shy, clinging to his mother’s skirts.

  Mammi and Dawdy, as Sadie called them for her son’s benefit, were an older couple with white hair and veined hands. Elizabeth was as neatly pressed as she might be on a Sunday at service, and Amos glowered down at Samuel with his sternest expression.

  “Hello, young man,” he said. “And how are you?”

  Sammie stared up at his grandfather, silent and stricken.

  “I have something for you,” Amos declared, and turned away with the same wrathful look as if he were reaching for a switch, but, after rummaging in his bag for a moment, he pulled out a wooden pair of horses, and Samuel’s face lit up.

  “For me?” he whispered, one hand still clutching Sadie’s apron.

  “Yes.” The old man nodded decisively. “For my grandson. That’s you, isn’t it? Speak up now.”

  “Yes,” Samuel said, braver now.

  “Good. Come here and get them.”

  Samuel sidled closer and reached for the horses. Amos placed them in his hands somberly.

  “Your daet liked horses, too,” he said. “You will call me Dawdy.”

  “Dawdy,” Sammie whispered.

  Amos looked up at Sadie’s father. “Shall we go sit, then?”

  Rosmanda and Sadie brought the bags upstairs, and the men retired to the sitting room, leaving Sammie in the kitchen with his new horses. When Sadie got back down again, she found Rosmanda and Mamm in the kitchen. Elizabeth sat at the table next to Samuel, looking at him with soft eyes.

  “He doesn’t look like his father at this age,” she said, glancing toward Sadie. “I can see Mervin in his ears, and in that curly blond hair . . . but his face must come from your people.”

  “It must,” Sadie admitted. “I wish Mervin could have seen him.”

  She wished Mervin had even known she was pregnant in time . . .

  “How have you been keeping?” Elizabeth asked, folding her hands.

  “Would you like some tea?” Rosmanda asked to one side, and the old woman nodded.

  “Samuel is growing,” Sadie said. “I’m constantly sewing him new clothes as he outgrows everything, or wears them down to threads.”

  “Yes, they do that.” Elizabeth smiled, but with less warmth this time. “I ask about you, though.”

  Sadie blinked. “Oh. Yes. I’m . . . fine, I suppose. I’m managing.”

  “You see, we—I mean our side of the family—are concerned about you,” Elizabeth went on. “I know this is a rather abrupt way to bring this up, but, as you know, I don’t believe in avoiding difficult discussions. We think it’s time you married again.”

  Sadie shot her mother a look of alarm, but Mamm didn’t return it. What was happening here? Did that “we” include her own parents?

  “Mammi, with all due respect,” Sadie said, “I’m raising my son, and I don’t want to simply hand over his upbringing to just any man. Mervin was a good, strong husband who could have guided Samuel well, and it’s my responsibility—”

  “Do you know why Mervin didn’t leave you any money?” Elizabeth interrupted.

  Sadie looked toward her mother and sister. Mamm was studying the countertop, and Rosmanda was watching in undisguised curiosity.

  “Because he didn’t know I was pregnant,” Sadie replied, her voice tight. That had to be it . . . added to the fact that he hadn’t loved her as much as he’d thought he would. These things happened sometimes.

  “It was because he had other grown children who needed to inherit,” Elizabeth said, and gave Rosmanda a brief smile as she accepted a cup of tea from her. “You were young enough to remarry should something happen to him, and he expected you to do just that.”

  This was all very likely true, but Mervin had never breathed a word of it to her, and his death had certainly not been expected. Suddenly, Elizabeth’s tender hand smoothing down Samuel’s curls seemed less loving, and a little more demanding. They expected her to marry again so that they could assuage their own guilt about how their son had left her unprovided for.

  “I will give it some thought,” Sadie said numbly.

  “There are some men in our district,” Elizabeth said. “We would be happy to make introductions.”

  Sadie attempted to smile. This was the life of a woman—always obeying someone. Mamm brushed a hand across Sadie’s shoulder as she passed, a silent connec
tion between mother and daughter. They’d discuss her mother-in-law later, alone.

  “I realize that my son was not easy to be married to,” Elizabeth went on. “He was a hard man who knew what he wanted.”

  “That isn’t a bad thing,” Mamm interjected. “He was kind to her. None of us complained about your Mervin. I can promise you that.”

  “Kind, yes,” Elizabeth agreed, lifting a hand, then dropping it back to her lap. “But they were only married for a year.”

  “Not much time for . . .” Mamm glanced at Rosmanda, and she didn’t finish the thought.

  “It takes longer, normally,” Elizabeth said.

  The older women exchanged a knowing look, then both nodded as if in agreement with something over Sadie’s head. It was irritating, because Sadie was no longer a girl—she’d been a married woman. She’d birthed a child in the very bedroom over their heads. She deserved the respect of being treated like the adult she was, but here they were with their veiled looks and unfinished thoughts hanging incomprehensibly in front of her, that mother-daughter connection of just moments earlier evaporating.

  “What takes longer?” Sadie asked irritably.

  “The smoothing out,” Mamm replied, turning back to Sadie. “The first few years can be a challenge, and you never did get out of that phase. You don’t know what marriage is like on the other side of getting to know a man.”

  What were they assuming about her marriage? And if they’d had concerns about her happiness, perhaps they could have given her some advice when the man was still alive.

  “It wasn’t difficult,” Sadie countered stubbornly. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. “Mervin was a good man, and I loved him.”

  “And no one admits to it,” Elizabeth said with a low laugh.

  Anger sparked inside of Sadie, and she turned toward the counter where a pie sat, waiting to be sliced. Her marriage had not been easy. A happy wife was a successful wife. If a woman was unhappy in her marriage, then she was doing something wrong. And Sadie had been most certainly unhappy.

  “Would you like some pie, Mammi?” Sadie asked primly.

  “Please.”

  “Rosmanda will serve the men,” Mamm said quietly, and Sadie began to slice the shoofly pie. Samuel came to Sadie’s knees, small hands clutching at her skirt while she worked, and she felt a wave of maternal protectiveness. This was her son, and with Mervin gone, that didn’t give her in-laws the right to choose Sammie’s next daet.

  They wanted her married again—safely provided for. And that was all well and good, but Sadie would have to hand her boy over to a man for discipline, and she would have difficulty doing that. Even having her own daet spank him was more than she liked. She’d be choosing not only a husband for herself, but a father for her son—a man to cherish and love Sammie like she did, but who could also provide a man’s influence and guidance. Elizabeth was right in one thing—Sadie had been married before, and she knew how hard it was. She was no romantic girl anymore.

  The pie was served, and Sammie was thrilled to get his plate, too. Rosmanda was wisely keeping her mouth shut, lest Mamm send her out of the kitchen to do some chore to get her out of earshot. But these conversations were good for younger women to overhear. How else were they supposed to learn about marriage, if not by listening to women talk? Still, there’d been gossip enough about Sadie’s marriage that she wouldn’t have minded a little more privacy. She cast her younger sister an annoyed look.

  “Was it bad?” Rosmanda whispered. “Being married?”

  “No!” Sadie retorted. “I was happy.”

  The poor man was dead. There was no time to sort out any of their differences anymore, and now her mother-in-law was soiling the last thing she had of her marriage—her pride. She’d been a wife, and whatever issues she and Mervin had had, those were private, behind closed doors. No one else deserved a view into that part of their relationship. She’d been a wife.

  “Now, my son was a good man,” Elizabeth said after she scraped the last bit of treacle from the plate. “But I wasn’t blind to his faults, either.”

  Sadie turned toward the window, wishing herself outside, away from this scene. She’d rather be anywhere right now—in the barn, perhaps.

  “We mothers know our sons,” Mamm agreed with warmth in her tone. “You’re a fair woman, Elizabeth.”

  “I do try to be.” She pushed her plate away. “But my Mervin wasn’t always fair. He judged every woman against his first wife, and she wasn’t perfection, either. But he’d loved her so much that he figured her ways of doing things were the right ways.”

  Sadie clenched her teeth together. Mervin had never told her that “his way” was actually his late wife’s way. But he’d had certain requirements in the kitchen—ways that things should be served, or how they ought to be cooked. His dead wife’s influence had seeped into the very cracks of that house.

  “They were married for twenty years,” Mamm said. “It’s to be expected.”

  “Yes, but he could have been a little more flexible after her passing,” Elizabeth replied. “And he wasn’t. But given time, he’d have seen the wisdom in allowing Sadie to do things her way, too. He’d have softened. But it would be enough to scare a young widow off of marriage again. It certainly would for me.”

  “Mervin was a good husband,” Sadie repeated, trying to keep the tartness from her tone. “Our home was a happy one, and I am not leaping into another marriage, because I’m wiser than that. I’m not holding back because Mervin was a taskmaster. I’m holding back because not all men are as good as he was!”

  A lie, and she’d harbor some guilt about it later, but right now, she was tired of the whole discussion. The older women both turned toward Sadie in mild surprise, as if they’d forgotten about her presence at the table. There was silence for a moment, and for the first time, Sadie saw a flicker of embarrassment on her mother’s face. Sadie had been a good wife, and even after his death, she knew how to protect a man.

  “It would be natural to be afraid,” Elizabeth said, her tone softening. She fixed Sadie with a sympathetic look. “Every married woman knows that being a wife isn’t easy.”

  Sadie was afraid, but she wouldn’t admit it—not here, like this. Marriage had been so much harder than she’d anticipated, and she was in no rush to jump back into it again unless she was sure she’d have an easier time of it the second time around. But in this kitchen, staring down her mother-in-law, she couldn’t admit that.

  “Your son was the kind of husband every woman dreams of marrying.” Sadie tried to keep the tremor from her voice. “I’m not afraid.”

  Elizabeth and Mamm exchanged another look.

  “Samuel needs a father to provide a man’s guidance,” Elizabeth said quietly. “And you will need to provide that father for him, my dear. It’s the Lord’s will. A father gives a boy an influence that a mother cannot provide. If you neglect it too long, he will be too old to embrace a father’s authority in his life, and he’ll follow in your brother’s footsteps.”

  The color drained from Mamm’s face. “Absolom’s shortcomings are not because of Benjamin,” she said curtly. “Our son was raised with a firm hand and much love.”

  “No, no, I don’t judge,” Elizabeth replied with a shake of her head. “I only say that a boy without a father stands to take the wrong path, especially since his uncle did the same, and that won’t stay a secret. The idea is already planted. Besides, Sadie here might have been young when she married my son, but she isn’t getting any younger, is she?”

  This from a wrinkled old woman! Sadie shut her eyes, looking for control.

  “The wrong father could be equally detrimental to a child,” Sadie said at last.

  Her mother-in-law nodded her agreement with that, then she turned to Samuel with an indulgent smile.

  “Do you think I could have a hug yet, Samuel?” Elizabeth asked gently.

  Elizabeth had always been an opinionated woman, and even her gentle mothering seemed man
ipulative now. Who were any of them to tell her to marry again? They’d never approved of Mervin’s choice in wife to begin with.

  Samuel regarded his grandmother for a moment, then opened his arms to accept a snuggle. He had no idea how many ways his grandmother had just insulted his own mamm. Mammies were loving and indulgent. That’s all he knew. And his dawdy had brought him a present. His love was successfully purchased.

  But Sadie was not only their dead son’s widow, she was the mother of their youngest grandchild. Death might sever the ties between husband and wife, but there were still strings attached between herself and her in-laws.

  A wise woman would look closely at the family before she married the man. If Rosmanda wanted to learn, she might start with that.

  * * *

  The cows broke two fences that afternoon, and instead of calling his boss for assistance, Elijah had taken care of it himself. That had slowed down the regular chores, and the sun had set by the time he tramped wearily toward the buggy barn to ready his own ride home.

  The sky was dark gray, and the wisps of cloud on the western horizon glowed crimson and burnt orange. Crickets chirped from the long grass he passed, and he slapped at a mosquito, then flicked it from his arm. He liked this time of day—the solitude, the peacefulness. His work was done for the day, and there was certain satisfaction in that knowledge. He missed this—the quiet, the connection to the natural world around him. He wouldn’t have this when he went back to the city. He’d find his own apartment, too. Absolom and Sharon were happy to share rent with him again, but his buddy would need space if he was to grow into his role as a family man.

  Elijah glanced toward the house—silent and dark except for a flickering light in the kitchen. He’d been avoiding the house today because he knew that Sadie’s in-laws were there. He didn’t want to interrupt. That was her life, so it felt inappropriate for him to come too close. He’d eaten quickly with his head down when he’d come in for meals, and then he’d quietly excused himself again.

  But he’d gotten a good look at the older folks, and they looked like regular Amish—quiet, respectable, neat. They were from Pennsylvania, so he didn’t know them personally, but he did catch the old woman eyeing him skeptically. They must have already heard about his recent history with the Englishers, and even if they hadn’t, his Englisher hair gave him away.

 

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