Marian swallowed. “This is good-bye again. To you, to my blog, and to Amy.” She felt something break off inside her, some part of herself—and she yearned to grab it up and attach it again.
Roger didn’t take his eyes from hers. Finally, he sighed. “All right. I’ll respect your wishes. But for the record, I don’t agree.”
“I know you don’t,” she whispered.
He stepped back. “Good-bye, Marian.” Her name was a whisper.
She nearly weakened, but then she sat up tall and straightened her shoulders. “Good-bye, Roger.”
He lifted his hand in a wave and turned, retreating from her presence. She watched him go, confusion filling her. A million if’s filled her mind and heart. She wanted to believe that somehow there would have been a way for them to get to know each other better. There would have been a way for her to continue writing on her blog. There would have been a way for her to become closer to Amy. But as she pondered it further, the if’s shriveled and crumpled into nothing.
She put her head in her hands and remained motionless. She didn’t stir until her breath came easier, and her mind slowed from its frantic swirl.
Her final act in the library that day was to log onto her blog. Two entries. That was all she’d done. It wasn’t really a blog at all. It was merely two small vignettes of her Amish life. She saw that Roger had commented again, his words fresh and silly. She touched the screen, her fingers hovering over the words “An Amish Blog” as if trying to absorb and save one last part of her writer identity.
Disgusted with her sentimentality, she quickly logged off and stood. She glanced at the large square clock on the wall. She’d been gone long enough. With rising unrest, she hurried out to Frisky and her pony cart. She needed to get home to check on Mamm and Izzie.
She climbed into the cart wishing Thomas might miraculously appear in his wagon. If only he was there, things somehow might not seem so desolate.
****
Marian hurried across the yard and into the house. She burst through the side door and into the kitchen. No one was in sight. Increasing her pace, she went to the front room. There sat Mamm, holding Izzie on her lap. Mamm looked up when Marian entered.
“Marian! You back already?”
“Jah.” Marian saw that Izzie seemed fine. “Is everything all right?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Marian inhaled. “No reason. Did you want me to start dinner?”
“Start dinner? How absurd, daughter. You know by this time of day, dinner is well underway.”
Marian realized the smell of cooking meat permeated the room. “What else needs done?”
“Can you take Izzie up and change her diaper? When you’re finished, you can help me serve the meal.” Mamm stood and handed Izzie to Marian. She rubbed her hands down her apron and headed off to the kitchen.
Izzie giggled and yanked the strings of Marian’s kapp, pulling it lopsided. Marian reached up with her free hand and secured the loosened bobby pins. “Isabel Yoder, leave your big sister’s kapp alone!” Marian laughed good-naturedly. Filled with overwhelming relief at how she’d found things upon her return, she took the baby upstairs to change her diaper.
****
The next couple days were uneventful. Marian began to think she’d manufactured the entire issue. She also began to sorely regret telling Roger she was going to stop writing her blog. Years ago, when she was a little girl, her dat used to tease her that she was an all or nothing girl—she never did anything halfway. It used to irritate her, but now, as she thought about how abruptly she’d given up her blog, she realized her dat had been right.
But had there been any choice? She was determined to stay close to home, and staying close to home didn’t include dashing off to either the library or Amy’s house to get on the Internet. What it did include was cheerfully helping with the chores while she kept a vigilant eye on Mamm. Something she was committed to doing.
But Saturday, the day of the work frolic, she woke up restless and depressed. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing out on something, or that something was terribly wrong. She tossed off the quilt and sat on the edge of her bed.
She needed to ground herself. Two people in the household feeling badly wouldn’t do. She shoved her emotions aside and went about her daily ritual. But later that morning before leaving in the wagon, she told Mamm she needed a few minutes outside to check on the chickens.
“The chickens? Did you forget to feed them?”
“Nee. I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t fret.”
Marian ran around the house and the barn to the coop. The scattered chickens wandered like playing children, jutting out their heads, pecking happily in the thin grass. Marian leaned against the wire fencing and closed her eyes. What she needed was a quiet moment with God. She was upset with herself for still missing her two Englisch friends. Why couldn’t she put it down?
And she remained disturbed over her mother’s instability—or whatever it really was—and over her father’s refusal to deal with it squarely. And she missed writing in her blog. She let out a sigh that reached her very soul.
Dear Gott, I need Your help, she murmured. I am upset about so many things, and I need Your quiet and grace. I need Your steady presence in my life. I need Your direction. Help me to submit fully to You, Lord God. Help me to be obedient.
She was still for a long moment, listening to the quiet clucking of the hens. The air blew softly against her cheeks, and from above, she heard the gentle cooing of a mourning dove. She concentrated on her breathing and the beating of her heart. Slowly, she felt the beginnings of a renewed stillness in her spirit, and she whispered her gratitude. God had heard her. He was there, listening to her plea and easing the unrest of her heart. Her eyes filled with tears as she realized she could never be far from Him.
She nodded her good-bye to the chickens and turned on her heel to run back to the front of the house. She climbed into the back of the wagon, taking Izzie from Mamm and balancing her little sister on her lap.
****
During the frolic, the women worked on a quilt for Emmalyn Jaber. The much-loved older woman had lost nearly every family member to an untimely death, and she was now feeling poorly herself. The women hoped a new quilt with the beautiful blue star pattern would both comfort Emmalyn and show her their love and respect.
The men busied themselves with building a new shed for the Jamisons. It wasn’t a big project and they were sure to finish shortly after the noon meal.
Marian split her time between the quilting and watching the children. Her friend Lizzie Bontrager joined her with the little ones.
“Haven’t seen you much lately,” Lizzie commented as she wiped the nose of young Israel Danner.
“Last few days, I’ve been keeping close to home,” Marian answered.
“I’m going to the youth singing again. Can we go together?”
Marian’s cheeks flushed. “Nee, I’m sorry, Lizzie. It’s just that, well, Thomas Groft has asked to escort me home.”
Lizzie sat back on her haunches. “Thomas Groft?” She grinned with delight. “Marian, he’s so handsome. You’re lucky.”
Marian flushed. “Perhaps,” she mumbled.
“Perhaps? He’s wonderful. If you’re not interested, I’ll trade you places.”
Marian smiled, pleased with Lizzie’s reaction. “I’m thinking you’re a bit young for Thomas Groft.”
“Not really. I’m done with my schooling, you know.”
“Jah, I know.” Marian reached down and hoisted Israel onto her hip. “I think I’ll take this one for a stroll. He’s mighty fidgety. Will you be all right with the rest?”
Lizzie waved her arm. “Be off with you. I can handle this.”
Marian nodded her gratitude and wandered toward the Jamison’s fields. As she walked, she heard the ringing sounds of hammers and the scraping buzz of more than one hand saw. Her dat would be in the middle of the organized chaos, having the time of hi
s life. He loved nothing more than a good work frolic, for it was a chance to practice his skills with a tool and a time to jaw with his friends.
Israel wiggled in her arms and she set him down, clasping his tiny hand in hers. “You want to stretch your legs a bit? Is that it?”
“Marian.”
Marian jumped and turned to see Thomas. “Hello, Thomas. You startled me.” Her pulse increased at seeing his face.
“Didn’t mean to.” He joined her, matching her slow steps as she hung onto Israel. He leaned over and tousled Israel’s strawberry blond curls. “Hello, little man.”
“He was restless,” Marian explained. “So we’re taking a walk.”
Thomas adjusted his straw hat, revealing his sapphire blue eyes. “I wanted a word.”
Marian’s forehead crinkled and a sense of unease filled her. “Oh?”
Thomas looked off across the field as if reluctant to speak.
Marian grew nervous. After waiting a full minute, she finally blurted, “What is it?”
He squared his shoulders. “The other day, you were in town, jah?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Jah,” she dragged the word out, her mind racing, wondering where this was going.
“My dat was in town that day. He saw you,” Thomas stopped, obviously uncomfortable.
“He saw me…?” Marian started, and then she froze. Thomas’s father had seen her! At the speedway. Riding around in circles on the track in the pony cart. With an Englischer! With Roger.
Thomas watched her face, his body stiffening with each passing second. “So, it’s true.” His voice was a husky whisper.
She shook her head. “What’s true?” she cried. But she knew. She knew what he was thinking. She knew what the scene had looked like to his father.
Thomas’s hands hung down his sides. The silence between them loomed like a heavy mist. He backed away.
“Nee!” Marian said. She let go of Israel’s hand and reached out to Thomas. “Wait! Let me explain.”
“There’s no need,” Thomas said, avoiding her touch. “You’ve no call to explain anything to me.”
He turned around and walked back toward the rest of the men.
“Nee!” Marian cried again. She watched him go, and such a feeling of loss swept through her that her eyes burned.
Israel fell to his bottom in the dirt and cried along with her. She reached down to gather him up, swatting the dirt from his pants.
“I’m sorry, Israel,” she said, biting back a sob. “I’m not doing too well at anything right now.”
She walked back to the house, keeping her gaze straight ahead. Seeing the disappointment on Thomas’s face again would completely do her in, and she still had hours of watching the children left.
Lizzie was so involved in playing patty-cake with little Mary Martha Whipp that she didn’t notice Marian’s teary eyes. Marian was grateful and set about fulfilling her duties with the bopplis and figuring out how to get herself back home as soon as possible.
But the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to set things right between her and Thomas. Yes, it was true what his father had seen. But it was also true that she had ended it all. There were no further possibilities with Roger.
The frolic dinner was served at tables spread beneath the Jamison’s apple trees. The workers ate in two shifts. Marian was too upset to get much food down as she sat with the women and children, so instead, she got up and helped with the serving and clean-up.
Before work was again underway, she spotted Thomas heading toward the Jamison’s barn. She glanced around quickly, and seeing no one else near, she ran after him.
“Thomas!”
He paused and waited. She hurried to him and was unnerved to see the closed look on his face. She steeled herself.
“Can I explain?”
He looked up at the sky and then back to her. “Now? I don’t think so—”
“But, Thomas, I want to.” Her heart lurched.
“Not here,” he said. “We can meet later this afternoon after I take my sisters home. I’ll wait for you.”
Relief soared through her. “Where?”
“Under your elm tree.”
She nodded. “I’ll be there,” she whispered.
Five
Marian was totally distracted during the last two hours of the frolic. When the last nail was pounded into the shed, she nearly cried with joy. Never had she gathered up everyone’s baby things so quickly. Lizzie gave her a quizzical look when she handed Israel to his mother.
“You practically threw him at her,” she whispered in Marian’s ear. “What is going on?”
“Nothing,” Marian said. “Just eager to get home.”
“How about you let me finish up, then.”
Marian gave her a grateful look. “Will you? I’ll fetch Mamm and Dat. Here, let me take Izzie.”
Marian lifted Izzie from the quilt on the porch where she’d been contentedly sucking on a toy wooden horse. “Come on, Izzie. Let’s get your mama and daddy, shall we?”
The trip home was short. Mamm put Izzie down for a nap, and Dat disappeared into the barn. Marian sat on the porch, watching the road and craning her neck to make sure she didn’t miss Thomas’s approach.
It was a good hour before he appeared. She schooled herself to walk calmly across the yard, but on the inside, she was running. Thomas greeted her with a nod of his head. He stood awkwardly under the tree, running his foot over the twigs and scattered leaves spotting the ground.
Marian suddenly felt shy.
“The other day, you were crying,” Thomas said. “Did it have to do with the Englischer?”
Marian’s lips parted in surprise. “Nee. It had nothing to do with him.”
Thomas exhaled as if relieved. He touched her arm and a shiver went through her.
“You don’t owe me any explanations, Marian. And you don’t have to ride with me tomorrow, either.”
“The Englischer was a friend. But I’m not seeing him again,” she blurted.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“But I do.”
They stared at each other a long minute. His eyes searched hers, and she was caught off guard by the longing in his gaze. Her eyes grew moist, and she looked away to stare at the fields across the street.
“Marian?”
She swallowed. “Jah?”
He stepped closer, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her face.
A trembling started in her stomach and moved through her. If she raised her fingers, she could touch his cheek, feel his skin on her fingers. He was so close, and his eyes such a deep blue, Marian felt as if she were sinking. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe.
“Marian?” he said her name again.
She nodded. “What is it?” Her voice was soft.
“I’m glad. That it had nothing to do with him, I mean.” There was an eagerness in his eyes.
And then he touched the brim of his straw hat and left, walking back down the road. She watched him for a moment, and a warm glow flowed through her. She’d known Thomas for years. She’d always thought of him as a kind person, a friend.
And he was. But now, he was so much more.
A small smile touched her lips as she went back to the house.
****
Later that afternoon, Marian checked on Izzie napping in her crib. Mamm was out rocking on the porch with her knitting, and she wasn’t sure where Dat was—outside somewhere, tending to who knows what.
Marian watched Izzie’s peaceful face for a few minutes, and the baby’s sweet calm seeped into her heart. She crept quietly out of the baby’s room, planning to catch up on some mending. She went to grab her sewing box when she heard Mamm call her name.
She went to the head of the stairs and called down. “What is it, Mamm?”
“Come down here!” Mamm answered.
Her tone was strange, and Marian raced down the steps. She hurried out to the front porch and stopped short when she saw
a white car in the drive. Mamm was standing, staring at the visitor.
The driver’s door opened and Amy got out.
“Amy!” Marian cried. Despite her earlier proclamation about not seeing Amy again, she was beyond pleased to see her.
Amy gave a subdued smile. “Hi, Marian. I hope it’s all right that I came.”
Marian rushed down the stairs and ran to her friend. She grabbed her hands. “Of course it’s all right. How did you know where to find me?”
“I asked at the Feed & Supply.” Amy gazed around her. “You have a lovely home.”
“Come inside,” Marian said, leading her up the steps.
Mamm hadn’t moved from her statue-like stance next to the rocking chair.
“Mamm, this is my friend, Amy.”
Mamm’s face tightened, and she gave Amy a curt nod.
Amy glanced at Marian and then back to Mamm. “Nice to meet you,” she said, her voice overly friendly.
Again, Mamm nodded.
“Come in,” Marian said, opening the squeaky screen door.
They went into the front room and sat on the couch. “Are you thirsty?” Marian asked. “I can get you some lemonade.”
Amy shook her head. “No, but thanks.” She gazed around at the simple furnishings. “It’s nice here. Peaceful like.”
“Thank you.”
“Your mom seems mad I came.”
“She’s not overly fond of Englischers.” Marian waved her hand. “Don’t worry. I’m glad you came.”
“You haven’t posted to your blog lately.”
“I know.” Marian bit the inside of her lip. How much should she share with Amy? “I don’t think I will be writing on it anymore.”
“You mean ever? But why not? You were so excited.”
“I’m needed here, so I can’t be at the library to work on it.”
Amy regarded her, and the silence in the room stretched out between them. “There’s more to it than that,” she finally said.
Marian remained silent. Should she divulge her fears about her mother, how confused she had been about Roger’s attention, how she had yearned to stay a while in the Englisch world?
She gave a small shudder. Divulging such things simply wasn’t done in her community.
Amish Romance BOOK BUNDLE: Marian's Story: Amish Romance Boxed Set (Hollybrook Amish Romance) Page 5