A Seat by the Hearth

by Amy Clipston

  “I can’t get it.” He jiggled her sleeve. “It’s stuck on a nail.”

  “Let me.” She gave her arm one hard yank, and the sound of ripping fabric filled the air as her arm broke free. She teetered and fell backward into a sitting position. She looked down at her arm and then blew out a puff of air when she found it was bare. The ugly, purple, puckered skin was exposed for the world to see, her sleeve hanging tattered by her side.

  “Priscilla.” Her name left his lips in a murmur that sounded almost reverent as he dropped to his knees beside her. “Who did this to you?” He cradled her battered bicep in his hands as he examined it.

  “Please don’t touch me,” she hissed through her teeth. She tried to dislodge her arm from his hands, but he kept her cemented in place.

  He moved his fingers over the scars with a gentle touch, like the whisper of butterfly wings. She stopped breathing and tears stung her eyes.

  “Did he do this to you? Ethan’s father?” he asked again.

  She sniffed and then tried once again to remove her arm from his grasp.

  “Please tell me the truth.”

  She shook her head and looked down at the barn floor. “Just let me go.”

  “No, I want to know the truth once and for all.” He looked down at her arm once again and moved his finger over the scar. His touch almost drove her crazy as shivers moved up and down her entire body. “Did he hurt you often?”

  She shook her head. “Only when he was drunk.”

  “What?” The expression in his eyes was fierce as they met hers. “How often was he drunk?”

  “He wasn’t like that when I first met him.” She shook her head again, trying to breathe normally. “When I left here I lived with my cousin Thelma and got a job in a diner near her apartment. Trent was one of my regular customers. He liked me, and he used to ask to sit in my section.”

  She looked down at the floor. “He asked me out, and we started dating. After a while I moved in with him. In the beginning he was kind and attentive, and I enjoyed how he made me feel. When I was with him, I felt loved. I got pregnant with Ethan, and I thought he was going to marry me. I thought we were going to be a family, and that was what I wanted. That was what I craved.” She kept her eyes focused downward.

  “The day after he hurt me he apologized and brought me flowers. He promised he’d never do it again, and I believed him because I was blinded by my love for him. But he hit me again only a week later. I wanted to leave him, but I was terrified, and I had nowhere to go. I was stuck with a boyfriend who hit me, but I had a kind to protect.”

  A weight lifted off her shoulders as she finally shared her deepest and darkest secret. And then she shattered, like spun glass. A choked sob escaped her lips, and her tears broke free.

  “Ach, Priscilla.” Mark pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed into his chest. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. I won’t let him hurt you ever again.” He whispered his gentle words into her prayer covering, and they were a balm to her battered soul.

  She held on to him, and for the first time in so long she felt safe and protected, and she didn’t want to let go. When her tears finally stopped, she sat back and wiped her face.

  “When did he do this?” He touched her arm.

  “About six months ago.” The memory came on so fast, it left her head spinning. “W hen I got home from work, he grabbed my purse and pulled out my tips. It had been a slow night, and he was furious I hadn’t brought home more money.” She shivered as she remembered the maliciousness in Trent’s dark eyes. “He started screaming at me. He was drunk, more drunk than I’d seen him in a long time. I told him to go sober up, and he threw a beer bottle at my head. The bottle missed me, but it hit the wall and exploded just above me. Glass landed in my arm, and I had deep gashes. He wouldn’t let me go to the hospital.”

  A muscle ticked along Mark’s jaw.

  She looked down at her arm. “I bandaged it up as well as I could, and it healed like this. Now I’m disfigured, and I can’t ever wear short sleeves.” She shook her head as a hole opened in her heart and sadness flooded in. “I made so many mistakes. If only I hadn’t gotten involved with him.”

  She looked up into Mark’s blue eyes. “But I don’t regret having Ethan. He’s mei sohn, my heart.” She placed one palm over her chest. “If I could have changed anything, it would be that he had to live with that monster.” Her lower lip trembled.

  “Stop blaming yourself.” Mark cupped her chin with his hands and leaned down, his mouth close to hers. “Trent was the evil one, not you.”

  She nodded as she lost herself in his eyes.

  “No one has the right to hit you. No one.” He leaned even closer, only a fraction of an inch from her mouth. “And I will never let anyone hurt you again.”

  The intensity in his eyes stole her breath, and for a moment she was certain he was going to kiss her. She stilled, waiting for the feel of his lips against hers.

  “Mark! Priscilla!” Dat bellowed. “What’s going on here?”

  As Mark jumped to his feet, Priscilla covered her bare arm with her opposite hand.

  Her father and the bishop stood at the entrance to the barn, and their stern stares seemed to burn a hole through her.

  Mark held out his hand, and she took it before he lifted her to her feet as if she weighed nothing. When he released her hand, she fought the urge to grab his hand once again. She yearned for the strength and solace his touch had provided.

  A heavy ball of dread invaded Priscilla’s body as she hugged one arm to her waist. She glanced at Mark, who stood up straight and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “What’s going on here?” Dat repeated as he turned his menacing glare on Mark. “What were you doing to mei dochder?”

  “Nothing inappropriate was going on here.” Mark held up his hand. “We were just talking.”

  Her father sneered as he glanced at the bishop and then back at Mark. “Nothing inappropriate? I’m not blind, Mark. What do you think you’re doing? You’re here to work, not this.”

  “We weren’t doing anything inappropriate.” Mark’s voice remained calm and even, and she marveled at his confidence. “I would never disrespect Priscilla or you, Yonnie. You know me.”

  “What do you have to say for yourself, Priscilla?” Dat demanded.

  “Mark is telling the truth.” She despised the tremor in her voice. “We were only talking.”

  “You were talking while sitting close together on the floor of the barn.” He pointed to her arm. “With a ripped dress!”

  “It was innocent, Yonnie,” Mark insisted.

  “Go get changed,” Dat barked at Priscilla, his eyes steely.

  With her eyes focused on the floor, she left the barn and then almost ran to the house. A light misting of rain kissed her cheeks, and a rumble of thunder growled in the distance. She didn’t recall a forecast of rain for today, but dark clouds clogged the sky.

  As she climbed the porch steps, her thoughts swirled with worry and fear. Would the bishop shun her again? If so, would it be worse and more humiliating this time? What would the community say about her if they heard she was doing inappropriate things with Mark Riehl in the barn?

  Oh no.

  She did a mental head slap as she walked into the house and started up the stairs. How could she have allowed herself to pour her heart out to Mark? She’d promised herself she would never tell anyone what Trent had done to her, but once she started opening up, the truth flowed out of her like a river.

  Priscilla crossed her bedroom and stood at the window. Its panes were peppered with raindrops. More thunder rumbled as she looked out toward the barn and her conversation with Mark echoed in her mind. She glanced down at her arm and touched her scar. Her heart seemed to trip over itself, and her skin heated as she recalled the gentleness of his touch and the intensity in his eyes. The attraction between Mark and her felt real, palpable. But surely he was an expert at creating those feelings.


  Priscilla cupped her hands to her hot cheeks as she recalled the electricity that had sparked between them. She could feel to the depth of her soul that he was going to kiss her. And she’d wanted him to kiss her! She’d held her breath and waited for the contact, but her father and the bishop had interrupted them before their lips could collide.

  Swallowing a groan, she dropped onto the corner of her bed. She was doomed. Although she’d tried her best not to fall victim to his charms, she’d let Mark into her heart. Why had she allowed herself to trust him? But his empathy seemed so genuine. Now she would be nothing to him but another eager maedel fighting for his precious attention.

  Yet she’d felt cherished and safe in his strong arms, and it was exactly what she’d craved for years. The feeling had been wonderful, almost like a dream. What would it be like to have someone in her life who really cared about her and loved her?

  What was she thinking? Mark Riehl wasn’t capable of loving and caring for just one woman. Even if he were, she was kidding herself if she believed she could be the one woman for him.

  Priscilla pushed the notion away and changed into a fresh dress. As she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she touched her prayer covering, and that familiar apprehension rolled over her. Her father and the bishop had caught Mark and her in an intimate conversation, which was forbidden for unmarried couples. Her father would most likely punish her, and the bishop could shun both her and Mark. Her heart couldn’t stand the idea of being ostracized during another shunning and then confessing in front of the congregation yet again.

  Then an even worse punishment occurred to her, rocking her to her core. What if her father demanded that she and Ethan move out, leaving them homeless and destitute? What would she do then?

  FOURTEEN

  “SHE’S TELLING THE TRUTH.” MARK GLARED AT YONNIE as Priscilla ran out of the barn. Fury was a bitter taste in his mouth. “We weren’t doing anything wrong. We were having a private conversation.”

  Yonnie shook his head and turned to the bishop. “It looked inappropriate to me. There’s no telling what would’ve happened if we hadn’t decided to walk in here.”

  Mark took a step toward him, his hands balled into fists at his sides as his heart hammered against his rib cage. “Yonnie, nothing inappropriate would’ve happened if you hadn’t walked in. I would never take advantage of Priscilla that way. I’m more honorable than that, and you can trust me around Priscilla.” He nodded toward the barn exit. “You need to have faith in your dochder. She may have made mistakes in the past, but we’ve all had lapses in judgment. Stop using her past against her.”

  While John’s expression remained impassive, Yonnie’s grave expression suddenly brightened with a strange gleam in his eyes.

  Mark gritted his teeth as confusion and suspicion mixed with his burning anger. Rain beat a steady cadence on the barn roof above them.

  Yonnie turned to the bishop. “Why don’t we take our discussion outside, John?”

  “Ya.” John started for the door.

  Yonnie leaned toward Mark and lowered his voice. “I suggest you remember who owns this farm. If you want to keep this job, you’ll mind your own business when it comes to my relationship with my family. Now, if you know what’s best for you, you’ll get back to work.”

  Mark took a deep, shaky breath as Yonnie followed John out of the barn. Once his boss was gone, Mark turned toward a wall and kicked it with all his might. Pain exploded in his foot, and he hopped and grunted in response.

  When he came to a stop, he leaned back against the wall and scrubbed his hand down his face as his thoughts spun.

  What had just happened?

  In less than an hour, he’d gone from being frustrated with Priscilla to longing to console her and take away all the pain her ex-boyfriend had caused her. And then he found himself caught up in holding her, touching her, and being close to her. And if Yonnie and John hadn’t walked in, he would’ve kissed her.

  He groaned and stared up at the barn ceiling as thunder rolled. How could he have allowed himself to lose all control with her? What was it about Priscilla that brought out his most confusing and fervent emotions?

  He padded over to the barn exit and looked out toward the doorway of another barn where Yonnie stood speaking to John out of the rain. His arms flailed about as if he were engrossed in a heated discussion. Was he complaining about Priscilla and calling her cruel names?

  This is your fault! If you hadn’t held her in your arms and almost kissed her, this never would have happened.

  The voice crept in from the back of Mark’s mind, leaving guilt and regret in its wake. He turned toward the house and fought the urge to walk in there and ask to speak to Priscilla alone to apologize.

  But that would only make things worse for the two of them. He had to wait for the situation to defuse before he could speak to her. The plan was simple, but the idea of staying away from Priscilla felt like pure torture.

  What was happening to him?

  Stepping back into the barn, Mark picked up his pitchfork. Yonnie had told him to get to work, and he didn’t want to risk losing this job. As he began to muck the stalls, Priscilla’s words about how Trent had treated her echoed through his mind, causing him to work harder and faster. He had to burn off some steam before he drove himself crazy.

  As he continued to work, the scars on Priscilla’s arm and the tears in her gorgeous eyes haunted him. He would do everything in his power to be the friend she deserved, no matter how she tried to reject him. He couldn’t give up on her. Her father and her

  ex-boyfriend had failed her, but he would never fail her. No matter what the cost.

  Priscilla jumped with a start as a clap of thunder ripped through the air. She pulled the last pair of her father’s trousers from the clothesline and placed them in the basket as the unexpected rainstorm continued to drum the roof and splatter on the porch. She’d have to hang the clothes on a line in the utility room.

  When she heard footsteps, she turned and sucked in a deep breath as her father and the bishop came up on the porch. She gripped Ethan’s shirt in her hands and pressed her lips together. Now she’d learn her fate after the incident in the barn.

  The strangely satisfied look displayed on her father’s face sent alarm slithering through her veins.

  “We’d like to speak with you inside the haus, Priscilla.” Dat pointed to the door. “Now.”

  “Ya, Dat.” She hurried inside to the utility room with the basket of clothes she’d have to deal with later. She peeked out the window and spotted Ethan sitting on the porch playing with a toy car. He looked so happy, so adjusted to this new life. But her decision to open her heart to Mark in the barn may have changed everything. She had to be strong now for Ethan’s sake.

  She went into the family room, glad to hear her mother still at her sewing machine upstairs. Her father and the bishop stood by their wood-burning stove.

  “I’ve discussed this at length with John, and we’ve decided you need to marry Mark.” Dat said the words as if they were mundane and not life changing, earth shattering.

  “What?” Priscilla divided a look between her father and the bishop as her pulse galloped. Had she heard her father correctly? He expected her to marry Mark?

  No, no, no, no! He was the last person she’d ever marry!

  “You need to marry Mark,” Dat repeated. “Your behavior in the barn suggests that you and Mark have been involved in an intimate relationship for some time, and this is both sinful and disappointing. The only way to make this right is to marry him as soon as possible.” He turned to the bishop. “Right, John?”

  “Ya.” John gave a curt nod. “You and Mark can decide on the wedding date. And there should be no more physical contact between you until you’re married.”

  “But we haven’t had any—”

  Dat shot Priscilla an icy glare, and she stopped speaking.

  “It’s settled, then. You’ll marry him.” Dat turned to John. “Danki.”r />
  John nodded. “I’m going to go talk to Mark.” Then he turned and disappeared through the front door.

  “What’s going on?” Mamm came down the stairs, her dark eyes wide.

  “John and I caught Priscilla and Mark kissing in the barn.” Dat folded his arms over his wide chest. “John and I spoke and agreed she should marry him as soon as possible.”

  Mamm blinked, and her gaze settled on Priscilla. “Is that true? Were you kissing Mark?”

  “No.” Priscilla grasped the edges of her apron, and she felt a surge of confidence that seemed to rise from deep within her battered soul. “It’s not true at all. We were talking, and he was sitting close to me. Dat has decided to use this as an excuse.” She glared at her father. “This is just what you wanted. You wanted me to find a husband, and since I haven’t, you arranged one for me. You want me to marry so I’m no longer an embarrassment.”

  “Mark is perfect for you.” He gestured out the window. “He can have half of my business. I’ll give you both land and even build you a haus. You can live in the daadihaus until your new haus is built.”

  Disgust roiled in Priscilla’s stomach as she studied her father. Dat is getting what he wants. And although Mark might do this to avoid being shunned, he won’t want to turn down every man’s dream—land, a successful business, and a haus.

  Mamm stepped over and touched Priscilla’s arm. “Mark is a gut man, and he cares about you and Ethan. He will be a gut husband and gut provider.”

  “That’s all that matters, right?” Priscilla yanked her arm away from her mother’s grasp. “No one cares how I feel or what I want.” She wagged a finger at her father. “It’s all about what’s best for you. Now everyone will see Priscilla as a gut woman. I’ve confessed my sins and I’m forgiven. And now I just have to legitimize mei sohn.”