The Bishop's Daughter

by Patricia Johns

  “Is what wise?” Elijah asked. “You mean, will I behave myself ?”

  “Something like that.” Actually, she was more worried about herself. If she told Elijah to stop, he would. He hadn’t pushed himself on her yesterday. She’d had every chance to walk away, but his mouth on hers had fired her up more than she wanted him to know. He had no right to make her feel that way—to ruin whatever sensible future might be ahead of her.

  “Sadie.” His voice was deep and warm, and she looked over at him to find his dark gaze enveloping her. “If you want me to keep my distance, I will. If you want me to.”

  “What do you mean, if I want you to?” she retorted.

  “I mean that you kissed me back.” There was a tingle of heat in his voice, and she licked her lips.

  “I . . . did,” she admitted reluctantly.

  “And if you were to want me to kiss you again—just to prove my point—I couldn’t turn you down now, could I? That would just be rude.”

  He was teasing her now, and her cheeks flushed hot. Now it was like they were kids again, and he was needling like only he knew how. “Oh, stop it, Elijah!”

  He laughed softly. “I’ll behave, Sadie. Okay?”

  Maybe she wanted a pious and earnest man. Maybe she preferred that to the way Elijah churned up her insides into a hot mush, because that kind of passion wouldn’t last, and she needed a man who could be a good Amish father to her little boy and to the children that would come later. She needed a man who was respected in the community, and frankly, Elijah was neither of those things.

  The rain lessened to a drizzle, then stopped completely as they reached the barn door. He held it open for her, but as she stepped inside, she glanced up at him to find those dark eyes fixed on her with a look so intense her breath caught. The door slammed behind them, and she realized in a rush that they were very much in private.

  “I’m sure Daet will be fine once he gets to the hospital,” Sadie said, stopping at the sink to thoroughly wash her hands. “All we can do is wait, really. But I heard him telling Mamm that he felt fine, which was obviously a lie, but if he feels well enough to try to make her feel better . . .”

  She was rambling now, and Elijah leaned against a rung while she grabbed a milking stool and a metal pail, watching her in silence.

  “And doing some housework on her own is good for Rosmanda,” Sadie prattled on. “Let her see how very unready she is for marriage and responsibility!”

  “Sure.”

  She headed across the barn toward the milking stall, and Elijah followed.

  “Do you want a hand?” he asked.

  “I told you before I didn’t need help,” she replied, but the truth was that she didn’t dare accept his help. Work kept a distance between them of at least a cow’s width. She sat down on the milking stool and prepared to clean the udder. From where she sat, she couldn’t see Elijah, and maybe that was better.

  “Sadie, look—all joking aside, I’m sorry about yesterday.”

  She exhaled a slow breath and rested her head against the cow’s side. “Me, too.”

  “The thing is, I know I’m not the guy for you,” he went on. “I don’t want to be your little mistake.”

  A mistake—yes, that’s what it had been, from the very start. She’d been in awe of him because he was older and had that glitter in his eye when he looked at her—in a way that no other boy had since, either. But maybe that was for the best. Look where he’d ended up—the bad boy to the end.

  “I’m as much to blame,” she replied, her voice feeling thick in her throat. “I could have stopped you. I should have. Next time, I will.”

  “Good. Tell me off. Smack me.”

  Did he mean that? Had he wanted her to put a stop to it yesterday, and she’d failed to be the stronger of them? She was the solidly Amish woman, and that should count for something when dealing with Elijah.

  “The thing is, I feel . . .” He moved around to the other side of the cow so that she could see him, and dropped his gaze. “I feel the same way I’ve always felt for you. I thought it would go away over time, and it didn’t. But that’s not your fault. This wasn’t . . . planned.”

  Sadie finished cleaning the udder, and adjusted the bucket underneath the cow. Then she started to squeeze and milk hissed into the pail. It was easier to focus on the jets of milk than it was to look at Elijah and see all those conflicted emotions flitting across his rugged features.

  “I need some space,” he said. “I need to think. We both know I’m not staying—”

  “Are you quitting?” she asked hesitantly.

  “I will, once he’s back and ready to find someone to replace me. I’m not going to leave you in a lurch. I know who the work would fall to.”

  To her. Of course. And she appreciated him trying to protect her from that.

  “Do you need space from me, too?” she asked after a moment.

  “Yah. I think I do.”

  She nodded, her fingers continuing to work without her even needing to think about it. His words sank deep into her heart, and they hurt more than she’d thought they would. He needed to get his feelings in order, and so did she. So why wasn’t she feeling any relief?

  “Let me finish up here,” Sadie said. “If you have other work you have to do . . .”

  “Yah, I’ll get to it.” He straightened. “I’m sorry, Sadie.”

  Elijah tapped the rail in a wordless farewell, and she listened to the fall of his boots as he walked away. When the door banged shut, she heaved a shaky sigh.

  Elijah Fisher had always made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the room, and she would miss that. But he needed his own life, and so did she. Maybe this time together was a good thing—forcing them to face reality together. When he did leave the farm, maybe she could finally get the good-bye she’d craved all those years ago and put him in the past where he belonged.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Sadie finished the milking, she trudged back to the house with the pail of milk, covered with a clean cloth. She had to walk carefully so that it wouldn’t spill. Her damp dress felt heavy and clung to her arms and legs, and there was a streak of dirt up the side. Drying it would not be enough. She’d have to scrub it in the tub by hand and hang it outside to dry, or she wouldn’t have enough dresses to get to the next washing day.

  The evening was warm, the clouds having passed, and the sun beamed down on her, dispelling the earlier chill. Everything smelled like fresh earth, and the birds were twittering in the trees. Just like everything was normal . . .

  She clomped up the stairs and let herself into the side door. The faint smells of cooking met her, and she inhaled deeply. She was hungrier than she’d realized. Sadie put the milk in the corner until she could deal with it, and shot her sister a tired smile.

  “I’m back,” she said.

  Sammie was awake from his nap, chattering at his aunt who stood in the center of the kitchen. His flaxen curls were rumpled from sleep, but that was the only sign that he’d ever slowed down. Rosmanda stared down at him, mildly panicked.

  “What’s the matter?” Sadie asked as she pulled off her shoes.

  “I can’t think. He just keeps talking!” Rosmanda said. “I’ve got scalloped potatoes and sausages, but I didn’t get lettuce for a salad, and—”

  “Rosie, it’s fine,” Sadie said. “Children chatter. Can you imagine Mamm with all seven of us?” She smiled, and Rosmanda didn’t seem to see the humor. “Have you heard from the neighbor yet?”

  “No,” Rosie said.

  Sadie nodded. “Mamm will call when there is news. She won’t call for nothing—it’s a drive down the road for the neighbors every time she does.”

  “I know,” Rosmanda replied.

  “Let me go up and get changed, and then I’ll give you a hand, okay?”

  Sadie didn’t wait for an answer. She gave her son a kiss on the top of his head and gratefully went upstairs to peel her sodden dress from her body and get into something
clean and dry. When she came back down, Sammie was quiet at the table, eating an apple.

  “It’s harder than it looks, isn’t it?” Sadie asked. She pulled a bucket of string beans from the bottom of the refrigerator and grabbed a paring knife to start clipping their ends.

  “That doesn’t mean I can’t do it,” Rosmanda replied. “Mamm did—”

  “Mamm was raised to be married early. You weren’t. No one forced you to be ready. Don’t blame yourself for it.”

  Rosmanda flattened her lips. “I’m still going to ask Daet to baptize me early.”

  All for Jonathan.

  “Why?” Sadie asked. “Jonathan knows how old you are. You’re not ready for marriage yet. If he loves you, as you say, he’ll wait.”

  Rosmanda shook her head. “He’s ready for a family now.”

  And Rosmanda wasn’t an adult yet! But Sadie couldn’t say that. Instead she said, “When I spoke with Mary Beiler, she was certain of his love, too.”

  “She shouldn’t be,” Rosmanda retorted.

  “She told me the same thing you did.” Sadie’s knife clipped through the ends as she dropped trimmed beans into a pot. “She said that she knew he loved her by the way he held her and kissed her.”

  Rosie was silent.

  “He was doing the same things with Mary,” Sadie clarified, just in case her sister needed it spelled out. Sadie looked over to find tears misting Rosmanda’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Sadie added.

  “I still love him,” Rosmanda said, her voice tight.

  “But can you trust him?” Sadie asked. “You feel rushed to get baptized and want to skip your Rumspringa so that you can be eligible to marry him. Do you think he would wait, if he had to?”

  “Yes! But I don’t want to wait!” her sister shot back. “We love each other, and you’re trying to ruin this for me—”

  “I’m trying to give you something to think about!” Sadie slammed the pot down on the counter. “This is a young man who has lied to his fiancée, lied to her family, and snuck around behind her back so smoothly that she never suspected a thing! If he could do it to Mary, he could do it to you!”

  “He wouldn’t.” Rosmanda shot her sister an arch look. “He broke up with her, didn’t he?”

  “Let’s say that Daet agrees and allows you to be married next year. What if things go wrong in your marriage?” Sadie asked. “What if tragedy strikes? What if you lose a baby? What if you’re put on bed rest and can’t take care of his physical needs? Will you be so secure in his loyalty then? Or will he do the same thing he did to Mary and start looking around for a better option?”

  “I know what we feel for each other, and I trust him.”

  Daet had been taken to the hospital, and Rosmanda was still determined to follow through on her plan to marry this boy. Why must everything fall on them at once? There was going to be no arguing her sister out of this—not overtly, at least. Rosmanda might argue until she was blue, but when she was alone, she’d do some thinking. It was the best Sadie could hope for, because forcing the two of them apart wouldn’t work. If Rosmanda was to be saved from Jonathan Yoder, it would have to be Rosmanda who lost interest first. Otherwise, Sadie could almost guarantee that she’d be comforting her sister with a broken heart before the year was out. Leopards didn’t change their spots, and men didn’t tend to improve for the love of a good woman.

  Advice she should keep front and center for herself, too, for that matter.

  “Passion doesn’t make up for philandering, Rosie,” Sadie said softly. “It doesn’t make up for a great many things.”

  “Did you have passion with Mervin?” Rosie asked pointedly.

  Sadie sighed. Should she continue to hide this, or use the truth to help her sister? “No,” she admitted. “I didn’t.”

  “And didn’t you wish you did?” Rosmanda asked earnestly.

  “Yes!” Tears filled Sadie’s eyes. “Every day, I longed for it. But being married to Mervin was still better than being married to a man who I couldn’t trust. I could trust Mervin. He might not have lit any fires in me, but he was loyal and honest. If he’d lived, I’d have found a way to make my peace with it.”

  “So you’re advising me to find a Mervin?” Rosmanda’s mouth turned down.

  “Not at all,” Sadie replied. “I’m advising you to find a Mervin whose kisses turn you to mush. That’s what I’m going to be looking for. Because without integrity, Rosie, you’re heading for heartbreak.”

  Outside, an engine growled up the drive, and Sadie and Rosmanda exchanged a wide-eyed look. They didn’t get visitors in vehicles, so this must be news about Daet. Sadie went to the door and opened it, spotting the neighbor’s car. Sammie came to look, too, peering outside with the mild curiosity of a small child.

  “There must be news,” Sadie said, suddenly breathless. She scooped her son in her arms and headed outside. In a few brisk strides, she crossed the scrub grass and gravel to where Ethel Carmichael was getting out of the car.

  “Ethel!” Sadie said. “Did Mamm call you?”

  “Yes,” the older woman said with a sympathetic nod. “Your father is stable, but he’ll be in the hospital for a few days. She asked that you bring a few things for him—his Bible, a razor to shave his lip, his slippers . . .” She handed over a piece of paper. “I wrote it all down. They haven’t assigned him a room yet. Your mother says to ask at reception.”

  “Thank you.” Sadie tried to swallow a lump in her throat. “We appreciate this so much.”

  “What are neighbors for?” Ethel smiled gently. “Do you have a way to get into town, dear? I can give you a ride, but I have to come back early. I can’t drive after dark. I’m a hazard on the road—”

  “It’s alright,” Sadie said quickly. “We’ll take the buggy.”

  “You’re sure?” Ethel sighed. “Alright, then. If I can help you in any way, you let me know.”

  Sadie nodded, and Ethel got back into her car. It was an offer based in kindness, but they would turn to the Amish community now. They accepted aid from their Englisher neighbors in an emergency, but not as a habit. Too much Englisher influence was never acceptable. They meant well, but they meddled and talked, always asking questions and sharing their own ways of doing things, as if any kind of change would ever be acceptable to the Amish. So they were a complication best avoided.

  Sadie turned back toward the house and spotted Elijah striding across the backyard toward her.

  “Was there news?” he asked, his gaze sliding past her to the car turning onto the road.

  She nodded. “Daet will be alright, but he has to stay for a few days. Mamm is asking that we bring him some toiletries and his Bible.”

  Elijah’s expression fell in relief. “Good . . . very good. Is the neighbor driving you, or—”

  “No, she can’t do it,” Sadie replied.

  “Then I’ll take you in my buggy,” Elijah said. “I’m finished with the chores, anyway. We can drive past my place so I can change, and then I’ll take you straight into town.”

  Sadie felt a wave of relief. There were times in a woman’s life when she needed a man’s protection, or at the very least, his assistance. The farthest she’d driven was to the market on the outskirts of town, and the prospect of driving all the way through town with all the automobile traffic this close to dusk was daunting.

  “Thank you, Elijah,” she said, hitching Sammie higher up onto her hip. “But come eat first. Rosie’s worked hard on dinner.”

  And Elijah had worked hard on the farm. He’d be hungry, too. They all were. Sadie would leave Samuel with his aunt, and she’d be able to see her father . . .

  Elijah’s gentle touch slid across the small of her back as they headed toward the side door. She shivered at his touch. He’d need to stop that. Caring as he meant to be, she had to forget the way her body responded to him.

  As she’d so eloquently told her sister, passion wasn’t enough.

  * * *

  Elijah barely t
asted the food as they ate as quickly as possible. He waited for a few minutes while Sadie said her good-byes to her little boy, and Samuel sobbed piteously for his mother as they left the house. Her son wasn’t dealing well with his mother’s absences, it seemed, and he’d had enough.

  Samuel’s wails stabbed a place in Elijah’s heart that he’d never experienced feelings in before. It was something like Absolom’s description of his daughter’s newborn cries—he wanted to fix it, to soothe those tears somehow. . . . The realization was unsettling. He wasn’t supposed to be getting attached to Sammie, either.

  “I’ll be back, sugar,” Sadie said softly. “I always come back, don’t I? Don’t worry. Be good for Auntie.”

  And just for a moment, Elijah was reminded of Sharon’s promises to little Chase that she’d come back. Chase had more experience with a mother’s absence than Samuel did, and, in a flash, he saw the difference between the boys. One cried when his heart was breaking, and the other turned to the TV. The boy who cried knew his mother would answer. Samuel would likely never fully appreciate how blessed he was to have a devoted mother like Sadie. It was easy to take such basic things for granted. When Elijah got back to the city, maybe he could put a little more effort into giving Chase some stability, too. That boy needed more attention than he’d been getting—maybe even more so since his tears had dried up long ago.

  Elijah let Sadie say her last good-byes with her son while he headed out and hitched up his buggy. When Sadie emerged from the house, they drove the twenty minutes to his parents’ house where Elijah changed his clothes and filled his parents in on what had happened. By the time they were on the road again, jiggling toward town, the sun had sunk lower in the sky, and shadows stretched out like lazy cats on the road ahead of them. There weren’t any other buggies on the road, providing them with relative privacy, at least from anyone they knew in the Amish community. Elijah looked over at Sadie, who sat in silence.