The Bishop's Daughter

by Patricia Johns

  As Elijah passed the side of the house, the creak of a rocking chair filtered toward him from the porch. Someone was up, and if they heard rummaging in the buggy barn, they might send up the alarm. It was best to go around and announce his presence so he could leave without a kerfuffle.

  He cleared his throat in order to make a bit of noise and let his footsteps land more noisily than before. The creaking stopped, and, as he came around the side of the house, he spotted Sadie sitting on the rocker. She heaved a sigh when she saw him.

  “Didn’t mean to scare you,” Elijah said quietly. “The cows got through a fence, so it took longer to finish up tonight.”

  “Oh . . .” She nodded, then brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face and back under her kapp. “No, it’s okay. I was just getting some time alone.”

  She looked wan, tired. She belonged upstairs in her bed getting some proper sleep, but here she was outside on her own. Something was nagging at her.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I still haven’t forgiven you,” she said, meeting his gaze, but her tone didn’t sound dismissive, exactly. The darkness seemed to soften the moment, and it sucked the barb out of her words.

  “That’s okay,” he said. “But given your options around here, I’m the one person who won’t judge you.”

  She smiled faintly. “How do I know that?”

  “Because nothing you could do could match what I did.” He crossed his arms. He’d be branded from now on—the one who went English.

  “I hate it when you have a good point,” she said finally.

  “I know.” He chuckled. “So how are you . . . really?”

  That seemed to be the right question, because she rose from the chair, glancing back toward the house, then came down the front steps to his level.

  “It’s harder than I thought,” she admitted, her voice low. “It’s . . . I don’t even know. It’s different without Mervin, I suppose.”

  “I could see that,” he replied. “How come you’re out here? You only used to come out to the porch when you were upset about something.”

  “Maybe I am.” She shook her head. “I’m the problem to be solved around here.”

  “You aren’t a problem.”

  “I am to them. I’m the widow, and their son didn’t provide for me. I make them uncomfortable.”

  “He didn’t—” Elijah dug a toe into the dirt. “Wait, he didn’t leave you anything?”

  Elijah hadn’t realized that. For a man to leave his new wife out of his will completely . . . how much had Mervin valued his young bride? She’d stepped down for him, and he didn’t seem to acknowledge that. She’d not only deserved better than a man twenty years older than her, but if she was to marry him, the least he could do was to provide for her financially in the case of his death. Elijah and Absolom had discussed it at length when they’d received news of the wedding. They’d agreed on one thing—at least Sadie would be provided for. It could have been worse.

  Except the old codger hadn’t even done that much, and Elijah felt his ire rise.

  “I didn’t even know I was pregnant when he died,” she replied, but her tone didn’t sound convinced. She’d known she’d been treated shabbily. Had that embarrassed her?

  “You were worth provision, with or without a child,” he retorted.

  She angled her head to the side in acceptance of that, but didn’t answer. The moon hadn’t risen yet, and only a sprinkling of stars had pierced the twilight. Still, there was enough light to make out the gleam of her eyes in the semidarkness. She glanced toward him, and their eyes met. She was so beautiful . . . what had Mervin missed?

  “So they’re going to make sure you have something?” Elijah asked. How else could they fix their son’s mistake?

  “No, they want me to get married again,” she replied. “Then I’d have a man to provide for me and help me with Samuel.”

  “You have your family,” he said.

  “I’m a burden on my family. My father is sick.”

  “So who are you supposed to marry?” he asked.

  “No idea.” She sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I’m sure they have some prospects, but I’m not interested.”

  “Good.”

  “No, it isn’t,” she countered. “I have a son to worry about. And my mother-in-law is right. What if he goes Mennonite like my brother? He needs a father who can guide him. If my little boy did what you did . . .”

  Elijah didn’t answer that. He’d broken his own mother’s heart. He was the kind of man Sadie would want to keep her boy away from—the bad influence, the danger to his innocence. There had been a woman who left home and went Mennonite back when they were all kids. She came back after her Englisher husband left her, and while she was rebaptized into the church again, she was never trusted, and the children were told to stay clear of her.

  Elijah was in her shoes now, and he knew it.

  “Sammie won’t,” Elijah said with more certainty than he felt.

  “I have to make Samuel my priority,” she said. “I’m a mamm, Elijah. That responsibility is deeper than any other.”

  “So you’ll marry some man you hardly know?” Elijah asked, hearing the edge in his own voice.

  “Maybe,” she said.

  “Don’t.” He sighed. “You’re better than that. You always were. Wait for the right man, the one who will love you properly.”

  Tears rose in her eyes and she looked away. Her words were so quiet that he had to step closer still to catch them. “He wanted his food cooked like she used to cook it.... He wanted his shirts folded the way she used to fold them.” She wiped at her eyes. “I didn’t like coming second. Is that sinful of me?”

  So he’d been right—Mervin wasn’t the saintly older man after all. He’d sensed it, somehow. Elijah stepped closer still and slid a hand around her waist. What had she been through? Had she really been stationed under a dead woman’s shadow in her own home with her husband? What would that have done to her?

  “You deserved better than him,” Elijah murmured.

  “I was vain and stupid.” Her voice trembled. “I thought because I was young and . . . relatively attractive . . . that he would love me. I thought that I could be enough.”

  “You are enough,” he retorted. “Sadie—”

  She raised her gaze tentatively, and he dipped his head down, catching her lips with his. Her eyes fluttered shut, and he pulled her against him in a slow kiss. After a moment, she pulled back, pulling out of his arms abruptly.

  “Don’t do that . . .” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you aren’t.” Anger flashed in her eyes and she crossed her arms over her stomach. “This is what you always did—took advantage of any moment of weakness I might have . . .”

  Took advantage. That stung. He’d never preyed on her like a prowling animal.

  “And you don’t do that.” He closed the distance between them again, but didn’t touch her. “Don’t rewrite our history to make it into something sordid. We cared for each other, and maybe we didn’t have much of a future, and maybe we were too young to think it all through properly, but don’t lower what it was. The memory of you got me through literally years of loneliness out there with the Englishers.”

  She opened her mouth as if to reply, then shut it again, emotion sparkling in her eyes. Elijah stepped away from her. She’d been right of course—he had no right in kissing her, not now when they both knew better.

  “You should have come home, then,” she whispered.

  “For what?” he asked bitterly. “To watch you marry another guy? To try to fit into my father’s vision of my future around here?”

  “This is where you belong, Elijah.” She shook her head. “You were born to this life. What are you looking for out there?”

  “A little less judgment,” he replied. “Out there, we’re considered really good guys. Here—your brother and I were rebels.”

  Sadie ru
bbed her hands over her arms again. The night was chilling, and he could smell September in the air. She took a step back toward the house.

  “It doesn’t matter where you go, Elijah, you’ll be judged by someone.” She sighed. “Duties and expectations are a part of community life. Without them, you are free as a bird and very much alone.”

  Sadie tucked a stray tendril of hair under her kapp, then turned back toward the house. Gone were the days of her brilliant laughter. What was pressing her down like that? The expectations were heavy on her shoulders, too, it seemed. Of all the people in her life wanting things from her, he wanted to be someone who offered something instead. Or maybe he just wanted to keep her with him for a moment or two longer. Was he no better than the others, tugging at her attention?

  “Sadie, I could bring you to see your brother.” The words were out before he could think better of them. It was the one thing he could do that no other man could offer her.

  “What?” Sadie stopped in her tracks and turned around.

  “If you wanted to see him again, I could bring you there.”

  Elijah knew that here in Morinville there would be potential husbands brought around, and while the women could only choose from suitors who had chosen her first, the men wouldn’t be fool enough to pass up on Sadie. She was mature, beautiful, talented. She’d successfully had a child, so she was fertile. Amish men considered those things, even if Elijah didn’t, and her father’s respected position would be like honey to men like that, men whose own families hadn’t been tilled under by the bishop’s righteous fervor. Who wouldn’t want to take her as a wife? He could almost smell the wedding soup in the air along with September’s chill.

  Absolom had asked Elijah to look out for his sister, and he felt like he wasn’t going to be able to do too much to aid her. He had no influence anywhere. But he could offer this—a chance to speak with her brother herself, to see why he did what he did. To get some answers.

  “My father wouldn’t allow it,” she said, but she’d stopped moving away from him.

  “Maybe not,” Elijah agreed. “But I’m leaving the offer there. If you want to see him, I’ll take you.”

  “We aren’t supposed to be friends, you and I,” she countered.

  “Unless I do what’s expected of me and come back properly,” he replied with a bitter smile. “I know. You aren’t the only one.”

  “Meaning?” she asked.

  “Meaning, my own daet wouldn’t talk to me unless I came back and did as I was told. You’re in good company, Sadie.”

  “I’m not—” She sighed. Yet they both knew it. It was what they’d been taught since childhood.

  “But I’m a little more stubborn than you are,” he said. “I don’t like being pushed into corners. Besides,” he added, “I’m perfectly safe. I’m obviously not courting you.”

  She slowly shook her head. “You are more of a danger than you think, Elijah Fisher.”

  And maybe he was. He’d just offered to bring her to the Englisher world and to open her mind in a way that would make all of her comforting platitudes fall flat. There was little more dangerous than that. But he wouldn’t apologize for it.

  Sadie turned toward the house again.

  “Good night,” he whispered after her, and she turned once to look at him with an unreadable expression before she walked resolutely back toward the house, up the steps, and in the front door.

  Elijah sighed. Sometimes a mind filled with experiences that no one else could understand was the heaviest burden. He’d thought he wanted to offer Sadie something, but did he? Maybe he only wanted to have another person he could talk to, to drag her out into this no man’s land that he inhabited. What was that she’d said—duties and expectations were a part of community life? Without them, he’d be free as a bird, but very much alone. And he was. This weight of loneliness could smother a man.

  If he cared at all for her, he’d let her marry some stern farmer who would never love her well enough, and let her stay in the world she knew.

  Chapter Seven

  That night, Sadie lay in bed, unable to sleep. Her window was open, the curtain pulled back to let a cool breeze into the room, and with it the soft night sounds of crickets. Samuel was sound asleep in his little bed, his blankets flung aside. The excitement of his grandparents’ visit had worn him out.

  But as she lay in her bed, she was equally exhausted but unable to sleep. Elijah’s kiss was replaying itself in her head. The softness of his lips, the way he’d pulled her close, not once asking for permission. Her heart pounded at the memory. That was how Elijah was different from Mervin. Elijah had always been able to awaken a spark in her, and Mervin had been, for the most part, properly distant. Mervin had never pulled her in for a forbidden kiss in the heat of an emotional moment. His fingers had never splayed over the small of her back like that, his lips hovering over hers before he sank down into the heat of her lips . . .

  She should have walked away then—not stayed for more conversation. Because his offer to take her to see her brother was more tempting than she was comfortable with. She had been right to walk away. Elijah was the reason that Absolom had left to begin with, and she’d be stupid to follow the same man out into the Englisher world. He could be so tempting . . . she knew that well enough. He could look into her eyes and give her one of those half-cocked smiles, and she longed to follow. He was most definitely dangerous.

  But she couldn’t quite put his offer out of her mind, either. Just one visit. She could see where her brother lived, meet this ominous Sharon. Maybe she could understand the draw, because part of the heartbreak was her complete inability to comprehend why her brother would do such a thing. How could an Englisher life be better than a solid, respectable life within the Amish community?

  She rolled over, her legs getting tangled in her sheet, and she irritably kicked them free. Could she simply turn away from a chance to see her brother just once? It might be her last time seeing him—she could accept that. It would be painful, but at least it would be a proper good-bye. When the Amish left home, it was always in the dead of night because they knew if they had to look their parents in the face, they’d never be able to do it. Absolom had been no different.

  Besides, she had a few regrets of her own when it came to her brother. The last time she saw Absolom, she’d argued with him about tramping his muddy boots into the kitchen, making messes for his sisters to clean.

  He’d called her bossy, she’d called him spoiled, and he’d stomped off to bed, leaving her to clean it up alone. She’d left the kitchen as it was—to let Mamm see it so she could give Absolom what for. But there’d been no time for that. By the next morning, Absolom had vanished, and he’d wiped up the mud before he left. That was the last she’d seen of her brother.

  Elijah was offering her a chance to change that—to wrap her arms around her brother’s neck and tell him how she missed him. She’d be able to say all the things she’d rehearsed year after year. She’d be able to plead with him to come back, because if she was part of the problem—her bossiness, her short temper—maybe she could fix her part of it to bring him home.

  She lay on her side, her mind spinning and her heart swelling with hope. What if she could see Absolom again?

  And mingled with the thoughts of her brother were thoughts of Elijah, too. He made it all seem innocent enough—just a visit. Was that what he’d done with Absolom? Because Elijah had a lonely sort of air about him and he reached out to her with memories of their adolescent romance, but she wasn’t made of stone. He’d been an older boy who listened when she talked. He’d shoot that sparkling grin of his in her direction, and while she’d huff and put up an act of being indifferent, she was privately happy that she could awaken those feelings in him. She’d taken it for granted in many ways, too, but now she knew that captivating a man wasn’t quite so easy as she’d assumed.

  She and Elijah hadn’t been alone often, but when they were, he’d reach for her hand and twine his finger
s through hers. He’d give her that slow, warm smile of his, and she would melt in reply. It was scandalous and wrong, but she hadn’t stopped him. She hadn’t pulled her hand back, told him to behave. If she had, she’d never have indulged in those heart-pounding entanglements by the creek—and she wouldn’t have longed for more of it.

  Maybe it was best that he’d left Morinville after all, or she might have let things go too far and ended up pregnant. These things happened, even in Amish communities. When Elijah left with Absolom, she’d been heartbroken to lose them both, but more than that . . . she’d been wounded that Elijah hadn’t breathed a word of it to her. After those secret moments shared together, she’d been left out. He didn’t even give her a chance to talk him out of it.

  And that was the most dangerous part of his influence—he was so likeable that she might have followed after him, too, given half a chance nine years ago. If she couldn’t have convinced him to stay, she’d have packed a bag, too. She’d have crept out of the house with Absolom and walked with him to whatever meeting place he and Elijah had decided upon. And she’d have told herself it was only to make sure that they both came back.

  Sadie finally did fall asleep, and her dreams were plagued by dirty floors, her mother-in-law’s appalled expression as she surveyed the mess, and the dreadful certainty that while she stood there trying to explain herself to the old woman, her brother was slipping further and further away from them all . . . but she couldn’t stop explaining, and every time she tried to turn toward the door, there was more mud.

  Sadie, what have you done?

  She awoke to someone shaking her shoulder, and Sadie sputtered awake, sitting bolt upright.

  “Shh . . . I’m sorry, Sadie.” It was Mamm. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Mamm?” Sadie rubbed a hand over her face. “What’s the matter? What time is it?”

  “It’s four-ten. You haven’t overslept. Daet pushed it too hard yesterday, and I don’t want him to go out for chores this morning. He needs rest.”