by Amy Clipston
John stood inside the barn and swiveled toward her. “Are you going to come in?”
Unable to speak, she nodded. She followed him up the center aisle, between the sections with unmarried men and unmarried women. When her eyes locked with Mark’s, her hands trembled. The intensity in his gaze caught her off guard, stealing her breath for a moment. While she’d tried her best to ignore and dismiss Mark since they’d had supper at Laura’s house, she sensed a tiny flare of what felt like attraction for him growing. Why was she wasting her time thinking about Mark Riehl? He would never love a woman as plain as she was.
She looked toward her father, and when she met his impassive expression, dismay stirred inside her once again. No, this wouldn’t be as simple as confessing. The congregation wouldn’t be satisfied with her honesty. How could the whole community forgive her if her own father, who was supposed to love her, couldn’t even do it?
“Our schweschder Priscilla has completed her instruction classes, and she is ready to repent for her sins.” John’s words slammed Priscilla back to reality as they stood in front of the congregation. John’s wife, Naomi, came to stand beside him as he turned to Priscilla.
“Please go down on your knees,” John instructed her.
As she knelt, Priscilla’s stomach clenched, and bile rose in her throat.
Please, God, give me strength.
“Priscilla,” John announced. “Are you truly repentant and sorry?”
“Ya.” Her voice quavered with anxiety as she felt the weight of the congregation members’ stares. Were they all silently judging how she’d spent the last eight years?
“Is it still your desire to join the church again?”
“Ya.” Her voice was tiny and unsure, sounding more like a terrified little girl than a grown woman.
“Do you promise to renounce the world and the devil?”
“Ya.” Her hands shook, and her body shuddered like a leaf in a windstorm. Was she strong enough to do this? Did she deserve to be a member of the church after all the mistakes she’d made? Was this right when deep in her heart she was just contemplating leaving once she had the resources she’d need?
“In the name of Jesus,” John continued, “I give you my hand.”
She clasped his right hand with hers, and he helped her up. She took a shaky breath as her eyes stung with tears and, keeping with tradition, Naomi kissed her cheek.
“Priscilla,” John continued, “stand up and be a faithful member of the church.”
Priscilla nodded.
“I am froh that Priscilla has made the decision to come back to the church,” John said. “I know I can speak for her parents and say they are froh and grateful God led her home. Today is a joyous day.”
Priscilla glanced at her mother and found her wiping her eyes. When she looked at her father, his expression remained grave, his lips pressed in a thin line. Her thoughts turned to his cruel words from the night he said she was no longer his daughter. Would this day change his mind?
“It’s always a blessing when one of our bruders or schweschdere makes the decision to return. We welcome Priscilla back into our congregation.” John smiled at her. “We welcome you back into the fold.”
Priscilla wiped away her tears and nodded. “Danki.”
“The meeting is over,” John announced.
Priscilla folded her shaky arms across her waist while a flurry of conversation started around the congregation and the men began converting the benches into tables for the noon meal.
“I’m so froh.” Mamm’s voice sounded thick with emotion as she came up from behind Priscilla and pulled her into a hug. “My prayers have truly been answered.”
“Danki,” Priscilla whispered into her mother’s neck as tears pricked her eyes.
Laura hugged her next. “Welcome back. I know I keep telling you this, but I’m so very thankful God brought you back.”
“Danki.” Priscilla wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Danki for welcoming me. I’m so grateful for you.”
“We’re so froh you’re back,” Florence said before she, Sarah Jane, and Kayla took turns hugging her.
“It’s time to go help the other women.” Sarah Jane gestured toward the barn exit, and her mother started toward it.
As Florence and Sarah Jane walked away, Laura looped her arm around Priscilla and smiled at her. “Promise me you won’t leave again.”
Priscilla opened her mouth to agree, but then she held back the words. It was a sin to lie, and she did still feel the pull of the Englisher community. Yet if she left and then returned, she’d have to go through the same process—the shunning and meetings with the bishop and ministers. Could she endure all that again?
“Come on,” Kayla said. “The others are expecting us.”
Priscilla followed her friends to the door. When she strode past Mark, Jamie, and Roy lifting a bench, her eyes met Mark’s, and an unexpected tremor shimmied down her back. He nodded at her, and she quickened her steps.
“Laura is so froh Priscilla is back,” Allen said as he sat across from Mark during lunch. “She was in tears last night talking about what a blessing today is for her and the rest of the community.”
“Ya, it is.” Jamie lifted a pretzel from his plate. “Kayla said something similar on the way here this morning.”
Mark cleared his throat and glanced toward the other side of the barn where Priscilla filled coffee cups and smiled at the men seated along the long table. She looked gorgeous in the hunter-green dress she wore today. He’d longed to pull her into his arms and hug her, just as his twin had done after the members-only meeting.
What was wrong with him?
Jamie leaned toward him. “You’re awfully quiet. What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing.” Mark forced his lips into a smile. “I’m just tired. It was a long week at the farm. We’re training some horses, and Yonnie asked me to repaint one of the barns. I feel like I can’t get caught up.” He shrugged and swiped a pretzel from his plate. “You know how it is.”
“Ya, I do.” Jamie nodded toward Roy, who was engrossed in a conversation with their dat and Allen. “Roy and I have been working on a few projects too. They never seem to go as quickly as you imagine.”
“Kaffi?”
Mark craned his neck and glanced over his shoulder as Priscilla appeared holding a carafe. Her chestnut eyes focused on him, and his mouth dried as they stared at each other. For a moment it felt as if the rest of the congregation faded away and they were the only two people in the barn. His heart hammered, and his pulse spiked. What was happening to him?
“Would you like some kaffi?” she repeated, breaking their connection.
“Ya, danki.” He handed her his cup, and she filled it.
After she filled the cups of the men surrounding him, Mark angled his body and watched her move down the line. He studied her beautiful profile and admired how her eyes sparkled and her rosy lips curved up as she worked her way toward the end of the table.
When he realized he’d been staring at her too long, Mark swiveled around and picked up his coffee cup. He glanced beside him and found Jamie watching him. His eyebrows were lifted, and his expression flickered with something that resembled surprise—or maybe curiosity.
Jamie had caught him watching Priscilla, but Roy, Allen, and Dat were still engrossed in a conversation about Allen’s carriage business. A thread of relief wove its way through Mark.
As he sipped his coffee, Mark braced himself, waiting for Jamie to make a biting comment, but Jamie remained silent for a beat.
“So, Priscilla, huh?” Jamie picked up another pretzel and popped it into his mouth.
“What do you mean?”
“Please, Mark.” Jamie grinned. “I’m not blind.”
“You’re not blind to what?”
“You’ve finally fallen in love.”
“Love?” Mark shook his head. “No, no, no. That’s not it at all.”
“So what is it?”
&nbs
p; “I’m determined to be her freind because I think she really needs one. I’ve tried everything, but it’s not working. She won’t talk to me, and I don’t know what to do to fix it.” He turned toward her as she filled another cup. He couldn’t stand the irritating distance between them. It was slowly chipping away at his insides.
Jamie’s lips twitched.
“Why is that funny?” Mark’s irritation flared.
“Mark, let me tell you something.” Jamie leaned toward him. “The only maedel who could make me so insane that I’d nearly lose my mind was Kayla. If you’re frustrated because Priscilla won’t talk to you, then you’re in love.” He nodded toward Priscilla. “Find a way to tell her how you feel about her.”
“How I feel about her?” Mark blinked as he struggled to comprehend Jamie’s hidden meaning.
Jamie pointed at Mark’s chest. “You’re crazy about her. You’re just too blinded by frustration to see it. But trust me, little bruder, it’s written all over your face.”
“Mark,” Roy began, “when are you going to start building that haus you keep talking about? Your room is bigger than mine, and Dat just said I can have it when you move out—unless Cindy wants it.”
“What?” Mark placed his hand over his heart as if he’d been stabbed. “You’re trying to kick me out? What kind of bruder are you?”
As everyone laughed at his joke, Mark pretended to join in, but his mind remained stuck on Jamie’s words. He needed to construct a plan to convince Priscilla to talk to him. If she would just open up to him, maybe he could sort through all his confusing feelings for her.
Priscilla hated how her body trembled as she approached her father in the family room later that afternoon. Her first attempt to navigate through their painful and rocky relationship and find a peaceful solution had failed. But now that she was accepted back into the church, she hoped she could make some headway toward a normal, loving, father-daughter relationship with him.
“Dat.”
“What do you need?” He kept his eyes trained on his newspaper.
She looked toward the windows and spotted her mother and Ethan sitting together on the glider on the front porch. Then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She wouldn’t allow her father to get to her. “You haven’t said anything about how I’ve made myself right with the church. I thought you’d be froh.”
“I am.” He peered at her over his reading glasses. “Now you need to find a husband.”
She bit her lower lip to stop the furious words that threatened to escape. She longed to give him a piece of her mind, explaining that she didn’t need a husband for redemption. She was already forgiven by God and the church, but she stifled her rant. Arguing with him hadn’t helped before, and she was certain she’d come up empty again today.
“Is there anything else?” he asked.
“No, that’s it.” She turned toward the front door, and the urge to flee gripped her again. She’d already saved up a good amount of money, but it still wasn’t enough to pay the first month’s rent on an apartment in a nice area, let alone put down a deposit.
As she stepped onto the porch, she found Mamm sitting with her arm around Ethan as he leaned against her shoulder. Guilt squashed her anger. She didn’t want to hurt her mother again, but she also didn’t want to live in a home where her father made her feel unwanted and unworthy of his love.
“Isn’t it nice out here?” Mamm asked as Priscilla sank onto the rocker beside them.
“Ya, it is.” Priscilla moved the chair back and forth. She would give her father more time to forgive her, but if he continued to hurt her, she’d find another place to live as soon as she had enough resources. She couldn’t live in a place that continued to break her heart.
THIRTEEN
IRRITATION BUILT IN MARK’S GUT AS HE STOOD BY the barn door and looked toward the back porch. Priscilla was hanging a load of laundry. He swiped his hand over his sweaty brow and ground his teeth as he took in her serene expression. She was clipping a pair of Ethan’s trousers onto the clothesline that spanned the distance between the porch and one of her father’s barns.
Despite the stifling August heat, she wore another longer- sleeved dress today, this one blue. He hadn’t seen her wear a short-sleeved dress since she arrived at her parents’ house nearly two months ago, and it puzzled him.
He’d been trying so hard to talk to her, going as far as offering her a bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked in her father’s meadow and an ice cream sundae he’d picked up while in town one day for supplies. Not one of his tactics had earned him any more than a smile or a murmured “Danki.” She still refused to have an indepth discussion or treat him like a trusted friend. Instead, she continued to avert her eyes whenever he approached her and frown at him when he offered a silly joke.
But Mark wasn’t a quitter. He’d try until he ran out of words. For some unknown reason, he couldn’t give up on Priscilla.
He started up the path to the house, glancing over his shoulder once to make sure Yonnie and Ethan were still in the pasture talking to the bishop, John Smucker. John had come to discuss purchasing a horse for his teenage grandson.
Only a few clouds dotted the sky, but the smell of threatening rain filled his nostrils.
When he reached the porch, he stopped and gazed up at Priscilla. She gave him a sideways glance and then hung another pair of Ethan’s trousers.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Sure.”
“I’ve been trying to pull you into a conversation for weeks now. Would you please give me a chance?”
“Ya, of course you can talk to me.” She kept her focus on the wash instead of meeting his eyes, and it caused his frustration to burn hotter.
“Look at me.”
She looked at him, her eyes hesitant. Did she really not trust him?
“Why can’t we be freinden?” He blew out a sigh.
“We are freinden. I never said we weren’t.”
He gave a wry bark of laughter. “That’s pretty funny, because you’re much more attentive toward your other freinden than you are to me.”
She folded her arms over her waist and studied him as if he were a confusing puzzle. “Mark, I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I just want to be a real freind—someone you trust and talk to about meaningful things.”
“You are mei freind.” She turned her back to him and dug in her laundry basket, indicating the discussion was over.
Her dismissal sent white-hot fury roaring through Mark’s veins, and he saw red.
That does it!
“You know what, Priscilla?” His voice was louder than he’d anticipated, and he heard the tremble in it.
She turned toward him, her brow pinched as she studied him.
“I officially give up,” he continued, his voice growing louder. “If my friendship isn’t gut enough, then so be it. I don’t need your friendship anyway. I have plenty of freinden who treat me with dignity and respect.”
Then he spun on his heels and stalked into the barn. Grabbing a pitchfork, he began to muck the first stall, slamming the tool through the hay to ease the wrath that bit into his back and shoulders.
Confusion and anger swarmed through Priscilla as she tossed the pair of Ethan’s trousers she held in her hands back into the basket. Why was Mark angry with her for not being the friend he’d expected her to be? She didn’t owe him anything. In fact, she had done her best to be pleasant to him, although she wasn’t about to encourage him. Was he upset that she didn’t follow him around and fight for his attention like Franey and Ruthann did?
She had to find out why he felt he had the right to talk to her that way when she hadn’t done anything wrong.
She hurried down the back porch steps and stalked toward the barn. When she stepped inside, she marched over to where he mucked a stall and pointed her finger toward his face.
“Why did you just yell at me?” she demanded. “Are you angry I don’t follow yo
u around and compete with the eager maed in our church district for your attention? Besides, you’re the one who always has to be the center of attention. I just want to be left alone.”
“Really?” He tossed the pitchfork against the stall wall with a clatter and smirked at her. “If you wanted to be left alone, you wouldn’t be living with your parents. You’d be off on your own.”
“I have no choice. I had nowhere to go. I’m stuck here until I can earn enough money to rent a place for Ethan and me.”
He blanched. “So you’re going to leave? You’re going to break your mutter’s heart again? Do you know how selfish that is?”
“Selfish?” His words shot across her nerves like shards of glass, cutting and fraying them. “You don’t know anything about me. And I don’t owe you an explanation for the choices I’ve made.”
“Then why are you standing here trying to prove to me that you’re not selfish?” His gorgeous eyes challenged her, and a heartbeat passed as they stared at each other.
“Forget it,” she muttered.
When she turned to leave, she tripped on a stone, stumbled, and staggered forward as she tried to right herself. Losing her footing, she slammed into the barn wall, pain radiating from her shoulder to her elbow. She shut her eyes and took deep, cleansing breaths to avoid yelping at the pain.
“Priscilla!” he called as he hurried over to her. “Are you all right?”
“Ya.” Her face burned with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. She tried to move away from the wall, but she couldn’t. Her right sleeve was snagged.
“Wait.” He reached for her. “Let me see.”
“I’m fine.”
He blew out a sigh, his eyes narrowed. “For one second, would you not be so stubborn?”
“Fine.”
“Danki.”
He leaned forward and touched her sleeve, and his nearness sent her senses spinning. She breathed in his scent—earth and soap mixed with sandalwood. The aroma sent heat coursing through her veins. She closed her eyes and took a trembling breath. What was wrong with her? This was Mark, the man who could have any woman he wanted in their community and would never give her the time of day, at least as anything more than a friend. And she didn’t even want him as more than a superficial friend. She had to protect the wall she’d erected between them.