His blue-eyed gaze was so intense, she thought he might be trying to see through her skull to the back of her head. “Can I . . . I have something for you,” he said. “Can I bring it . . . it’s in the house. Can I show you? I’ll bring it out.”
She wasn’t quite sure what he’d said, so she couldn’t do anything but nod.
He opened his back door and disappeared into the house while Honey sat on her haunches and waited patiently for her master to reappear. Rose stroked Honey’s head and fretted about Josiah Yoder and his endearing smile.
Josiah returned in less than a minute with a bottle of water and a small tube in his hands. He handed her the bottle of water; then he showed her what was in his other hand. “I hope this is the kind of paint you like,” he said, as if he’d just sprinted a mile. His eyes were deep pools of uncertainty and doubt. “I . . . thought you could use it on your farm scene.”
She felt as if she were slowly sinking, like a buggy stuck in the mud with no way out.
Blue paint.
A small gift filled with terrifying expectations and attached to all sorts of strings.
Her hands shook, and her mind raced. She couldn’t accept it, but she couldn’t reject it or she’d hurt his feelings. He was, after all, just trying to be a gute Christian to poor, helpless Rose Christner.
He studied her face, and his expression fell. “I guess I shouldn’t have.”
Ach, du lieva. She had hurt his feelings. Always a disappointment. Always such a burden. “I’m . . . I’m sorry.” He already knew she didn’t want it. She should have just left it at that. But that look on his face felt like being stuck with a hundred pins. She forced her lips into a smile and took the tube from his hand. “It is very thoughtful of you. Denki. I like blue. Like your eyes.”
Josiah seemed to expel all the air from his lungs. “You don’t have to take this just to make me feel better.” He leaned over to coax her to look him in the eye.
She lowered her gaze even farther, unable to bear to see his disappointment or his condemnation or his frustration. He’d been thoughtful enough to buy her a tube of paint, and she was being incredibly ungrateful. “It’s okay, Josiah. I’ll take it.”
“Rose,” he said. “What do you want?”
“I’ve already told you. It’s better if I do what you want.”
She could hear the frown in his voice. “It’s not better for me. And for sure and certain it’s not better for you.”
She would not cry.
Not until she was tucked safely inside her buggy.
She wrapped her fingers around the tube of paint. “I need to go.”
He reached out and cupped his hand around hers. “Wait, Rose. Won’t you talk to me?”
Not if he didn’t want to see her disintegrate into a puddle of tears. She pressed her lips together and bit down on her tongue.
“But only if you want to,” he said. “Not because you don’t want to hurt my feelings. I promise I won’t get mad or be sad.” His mouth drooped. “Ach. Never mind. I can’t promise I won’t be sad, but I can promise you are always safe with me.”
Safe? She felt as if she were perched on a precipice, ready to topple into the darkness. No matter what she said, he’d be disappointed or resentful. And he’d pity her or despise her. And she’d deserve it.
But maybe he’d finally leave her be.
A sob nearly escaped her lips at that thought. Why had she come today? She’d wanted to try something brave, but she’d only succeeded in further proving to Josiah that she was weak and helpless and oh so needy. She hated being this way. She hated Josiah’s pity.
When she hesitated as if she was considering staying, Josiah shooed Honey out of the way and sat on the top porch step. He gazed at her expectantly. “Please, Rose. Will you talk to me?”
Swallowing her tears, she sat next to him and laid both the water and the paint between them. She pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, making sure her dress was tucked around her ankles. If only she could make herself smaller—so small that no one could see her.
Josiah’s relief was palpable as he rested his elbows on his knees and looked at her. “I’ve been selfish. I was only thinking about what I wanted when I bought that tube of paint. I wanted to give it to you. I didn’t stop to think that maybe you didn’t want me to get it. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“You never asked me to come over to your house. I sort of forced myself on you and your family.” He curled one side of his mouth. “And I called Suvie pushy. I’m the pushiest of all.”
“There’s no need to blame yourself for my weaknesses.”
“I’m to blame for thinking only of myself.” His blue eyes searched her face. “I want to know what you want. What you truly want, so I can do it for you.” He picked up the tube of paint. “And I am pretty sure it’s not blue paint.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
He turned his whole body toward her. “To be perfectly honest, Rose, it’s the only thing that matters to me.”
Could she trust him with something so deep and personal? She sighed and gazed out over the pumpkin patch. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”
His gaze grew more intense, as if darkness and light were struggling inside him. “Are you . . . are you afraid of me?”
She pressed her lips together. “I’m afraid of your expectations.”
“What do you mean?”
She had to look away from that piercing gaze. “You want something from me.”
“What do I want?” he said, so softly she almost didn’t hear him.
“I don’t know. But I am terrified of meeting your expectations.” She wrung her hands together. “Because I can’t. No matter what you want, I’ll be a disappointment to you. I am a constant disappointment to everyone.”
“You have never been a disappointment to me,” he said.
“Maybe not yet, but I will be. I’m timid. I don’t dare talk to boys. I cry at the stupidest things. I am weak when I should be strong. Everything frightens me, but I’m too terrified to change. I can’t even gather up enough courage to walk back to the house by myself in broad daylight. I’ll disappoint you, Josiah.” The tears would not be stopped. “The burden of your expectations is too great.”
“What if I just want to be your friend?”
She lifted her head and studied his face. “Do you just want to be my friend?”
He averted his eyes and rubbed the side of his face as if he were trying to scrub the skin off. “Nae. That’s not what I want.”
It hurt so much she nearly cried out. She swallowed the pain and nodded her head as the tears flowed down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Josiah. I don’t want to be your project.”
“Rose,” he said, “it’s not what you think.” He grazed his thumb along her cheek, wiping off a tear. “Do you remember when my mamm died?”
“Jah. It was a terrible time for the whole community.”
He gave her a half smile. “The day of the funeral still seems like a dream. All those people came through the house, but I have never felt more alone. My dat had died two years earlier. I felt like I was drowning.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. She had barely known her parents. Josiah had lost the biggest part of himself when first his dat, then his mamm, died.
He looked at her with unmistakable sadness in his eyes. “You are the one thing I remember clearly from that day.”
“Me?”
“You and your sisters stayed to clean up. You were sixteen, so young and so pretty. All the boys thought so.”
Rose pressed her hand to her cheek. He was exaggerating. Josiah had always been nice like that.
“We knew how shy you were. You always stayed close to your sisters and never talked to any of us.” He furrowed his brow. “Until that day.”
She sniffed and wiped at another tear. “I remember you were crying.”
“Most everyone had left, and I was just sitting there
alone with a gaping hole in my heart, wondering what was to become of me. I looked up and this beautiful, shy, angelic girl was standing right in front of me. You were afraid to talk to boys, yet you put aside your own fear to comfort me.”
“I couldn’t let you carry all that grief by yourself.”
“I knew you were uncomfortable. Your hands trembled. But you were too kind to let me suffer by myself. Do you remember what you said?”
“Nae.”
He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Maybe I remember it for what you didn’t say. You didn’t say any of the hurtful things that people usually say at funerals. You didn’t tell me that my mamm was in a better place or that Gotte must have needed another angel.” He lowered his eyes and fingered the brim of his hat. “I was so empty and so bitter, and I’m not proud of it, but I was angry at Gotte and the bishop and everyone in the district. It felt like they cared more about Levi Junior than they did about my mamm. They hardly had two words to say about my mamm, but they all said plenty about Levi Junior. ‘Josiah, you know that Levi Junior never meant to hurt anybody.’ ‘Levi Junior is a gute boy who made a careless mistake.’ ‘Of course you’ll be a gute Christian and forgive Levi Junior in your heart.’ ‘Your forgiveness could keep him out of jail.’” Josiah’s voice cracked into a million pieces, and he covered his eyes with his free hand.
Rose’s eyes stung with tears—not for herself, but for the broken-hearted young man who still wept at the memory of his mater. Levi Stutzman had been eighteen years old and still in rumspringa when he had bought a car and a cell phone. He’d been texting and driving when he hit a buggy with four Amish women inside. Josiah’s mamm had been killed. None of the others had been seriously hurt.
Rose laid her hand on Josiah’s arm. “You may have been angry, but you never said a word against Levi Junior.”
“But in my heart I hated him for taking my mamm.” He set his hat on the lower step and placed his hand over hers. “You sat with me for two hours and didn’t say one word about Levi Junior. You didn’t tell me I needed to forgive him and didn’t make me feel guilty for hating him. You asked me about my mamm, and then you cried for her and let me cry with you. You wanted to talk about why people loved her, why I loved her. You wanted to hear about the quilts she made and about the time she chased the cow through the corn and about when she made a hole in the ceiling with the pressure cooker.”
“You have some wonderful memories.”
“I was very ungrateful. I had nineteen years of memories with my mamm. You had barely five,” he said.
“Nineteen is not near enough either.”
His eyes filled with tenderness. “You listened to me. I felt a glimmer of hope that I would be all right because Rose Christner helped me see it. You’ll never know what that meant to me.”
She looked down at her hand, which was still comfortably sitting on his arm. It was too much to gaze into those eyes indefinitely. “No matter what happened at the funeral, everybody loved your mater.”
Josiah nodded. “In time, I understood that. I visited Levi Junior in prison and forgave him. He forgave himself too.” She didn’t pull away when he laced his fingers with hers. “I don’t expect anything from you, Rose. On that day of the funeral, I just knew I wanted to spend more time with you. I guess I hoped some of your kindness and bravery would rub off on me.”
Rose sighed. “I don’t have any bravery to spare.”
“You were sixteen and scared of boys. I had to wait until you got older so I could figure out a way to sneak up on you. So far, I haven’t been doing a very gute job of sneaking.”
“So buying me paint is your way of sneaking up on me?”
“I thought you’d like blue.”
Her lips twitched slightly upward. “You probably know by now that I am not the type who likes people sneaking up on her.”
He groaned. “I know. I’ve been going about it all wrong.”
“I like blue so long as it doesn’t come with conditions or strings attached.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re afraid you’ll disappoint me?”
“I will disappoint you.”
“So if I have no expectations, you won’t be afraid of me?”
She frowned. “Well, I don’t know. I don’t want to feel like a project either—like you have to be nice to me because I’m pitiful.”
He squeezed her hand. “Rose, you’re not anyone’s project, especially not mine. I promise not to expect anything from you, even an occasional birthday cake, if you promise not to be worried about disappointing me. I’ll bring you paint and you can keep it or give it back without hurting my feelings. I just want to make you happy. I think you deserve to be happy.” He grinned and slipped his hand out of hers. “Besides, I’m too busy to make anybody a project, but if I did, it would be Paul Glick.”
“Paul Glick?”
“The worst-behaved people are usually the ones who need the most love.”
Rose pursed her lips. “We definitely need to try to love and forgive Paul Glick, but I’d rather do it from a distance.”
“Maybe I’ll see if I have time for a project next year.”
His silly grin made Rose giggle. “As long as I’m not your project, you can choose whoever you want.”
His smile faded as he gazed at her. “You should always be laughing.”
She took a deep breath. “I know. I cry too much.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. You don’t want to be afraid anymore. I’m going to do everything I can to see that you aren’t.”
“But that’s exactly what I don’t want. I don’t want you to sacrifice anything for me. I don’t want you to go out of your way, and I for sure and certain don’t want you to waste one minute thinking or worrying about me.”
He rubbed the whiskers on his chin. “You might as well ask me not to breathe or eat.”
“I will let you down, Josiah. I always do because I’m not brave or strong. Are you sure you want to be my friend?”
“I’ll carry a supply of tissues in my pocket at all times, just in case.”
He didn’t seem to understand what she was trying to say. “I’m going to become tiresome.”
“I don’t want you to be anxious every time we see each other. Try to remember that I have no expectations for how you should act or how you should treat me. If you get sick of me, you can tell me to leave and it won’t hurt my feelings.”
“And when you get sick of me?” She lowered her gaze, not wanting to see what she feared she’d see in his eyes. Better to never talk to him again than to disappoint him and watch him walk away six months from now.
“I won’t.”
“Jah, you will.”
He took her hand in his once again. “I promise that I won’t leave you until you tell me to go.”
Her heart felt heavy and dull. She pulled her hand away. “That’s too much pressure, and you’re too serious.”
“Friends are loyal.” He stood and pulled her up with him. “No pressure and no expectations.”
“When you grow tired of me, I don’t expect you to stay my friend,” she said.
He bowed his head as if in surrender. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
She wasn’t quite satisfied with that answer, but she didn’t know what else to say. Deep down, she didn’t want to talk him out of being her friend, no matter how frightened she was of his expectations, no matter how bad it would hurt when he finally gave up on her.
And he did have expectations, despite what he’d said. But she had warned him. She could take a small bit of comfort in that.
He snatched the paint from the step. “So,” he said, smiling doubtfully, “do you want the paint?”
She mustered her courage, just to show him how contrary she could be and maybe to test if he’d truly meant what he’d said about not caring if she took it or not. “You are very kind, but I can’t accept it.” She waited for his disappointment.
He smiled as if
he hadn’t a care in the world and stuffed the paint in his pocket. “Okay. Blue was a bad choice. I’ll try a nice brown next time.” His eyes sparkled with mischief.
“You will not,” Rose said. “I hate having to keep refusing you.”
He tapped his finger against his chin as if thinking really hard. “They have a wonderful-gute phlegm-green color at the craft store.”
She giggled. “Sounds like something Luke Bontrager would buy.”
His mouth fell open. “How did you know?”
* * *
It was still broad daylight, and Rose insisted that she could drive home by herself. Josiah watched the buggy down the road until he couldn’t see it anymore. Had he scared Rose away by telling her too much? He’d been so careful not to say or do anything that might upset her, but it seemed he did nothing but upset her.
Oy, anyhow.
He shouldn’t have said anything about the funeral. Rose couldn’t begin to understand what that meant to him. For her, it was just another memory she couldn’t measure up to. For him, it was the day he had fallen in love with Rose Christner.
Rose had literally saved him after his mother died. She’d listened. She hadn’t judged or admonished him. She hadn’t urged him to offer forgiveness he wasn’t ready to give. After she’d sat with him for two hours, he’d known she was the girl he wanted to marry. Rose and her sisters had brought Josiah dinner every week for three months and then once a month for a year. Every time she’d crossed his threshold, it had been like the sun rising on his soul.
After that, it had been everything he could do to stay away from her. She was only sixteen. They both needed to grow up. But every breath he took from that moment on was focused on being worthy of Rose Christner. He’d named his dog after her. He watched her at gatherings, never daring to get too close for fear of frightening her away. He did a lot of praying in his fields and a lot of crying on his pillow. Thoughts of her were what had eventually led him to the jail to offer his forgiveness to Levi Junior.
If he lost her, he’d never forgive himself.
Josiah walked slowly back to the house. He slipped his hand in his pocket and curled his fingers around the tube of paint that Rose hadn’t wanted. If he won her, it would be worth every long night and every tear ever shed.
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