She gave her a tight hug and sat up, holding Izzie in her lap.
“Everything’s all right now, pumpkin. Don’t you worry. Shall we go downstairs and work on dinner? What do you say we bake a nice apple pie for Dat? Won’t he be surprised?”
Marian swallowed past the knot of tears tangled in her throat. She wiped at her eyes, put a smile on her face, and carried the baby back downstairs.
Three
That night, Marian sat on the edge of her bed staring at the blank page in her journal. The lantern light flickered across the paper, casting shadows of her hand gripping her pencil. She didn’t seem able to write a thing. Not a word escaped onto the page. They twisted in a jumbled mess, churning through her mind. The loss of Thomas caught at her throat, echoed through her chest, and pierced her heart. It hurt. She could double over with the pain. Her spine wanted to buckle into itself, but she hardened herself against it.
So what if she had lost her love.
It happened all the time to girls. She wasn’t so special. What made her think it shouldn’t happen to her?
She glanced through her open bedroom door across the hall to where Izzie slept. She had been given the precious task of raising her sister. What could be more important? God had indeed blessed her with such a responsibility.
Her hand went to her throat. She pressed on her warm skin, feeling her pulse throb against her fingers. Yes. Raising Izzie was a blessing indeed.
Then why did she feel like she was choking? She massaged her throat, trying to ease the tightness, ease the blockage. Make it so she could breathe without it hurting.
Her right hand gripped the pencil harder. She let go of her throat and held the journal more securely in her lap. Clenching her teeth, she began to write. The words scraped over the paper, jerking, falling one by one into blind sentences.
Dear Journal,
I am dying inside… I am dying without my Thomas.
She threw the pencil across the room and shoved the journal to the floor, where it fell with a thud, the pages flapping against one another.
She blew out the lantern and burrowed beneath the quilt. Her hot breath circled back against her wet face as the tears fell. She closed her eyes, willing all thoughts to cease.
****
The next morning, Marian set off with Izzie in the pony cart to the Feed and Supply to purchase a length of cloth. Izzie was growing fast and needed a new dress. Her old ones barely covered her knees. She harnessed Frisky, and they were on their way by ten o’clock. Izzie loved to ride in the pony cart. She clapped her hands and babbled to Frisky as they made their way down the road. Marian was careful to drive far to the right for she knew the impatience of Englisch drivers when they came across an Amish cart or buggy.
But they met no one on their journey. She directed Frisky into the parking lot where other buggies and wagons were already parked. She noted a couple of cars, too. Most likely some of their Mennonite neighbors.
As she pulled on the reins, she spotted a small white car next to the loading dock. Her eyes widened. Could it be?
Quickly, she jumped down and secured Frisky to a hitching post. Then she grabbed Izzie and hurried into the store. She didn’t see who she was looking for at the cash register, so she hustled down the center aisle, her eyes searching each row as she passed.
And then she saw her.
“Amy!” she cried, waving to her Englisch friend.
Amy turned, her blue eyes wide, her blond curls swishing around her shoulders. “Marian!”
They rushed to each other, and Amy threw her arms around Marian and Izzie.
“I was hoping I’d see you here!” Amy drew back. “How are you, Marian?” She reached out and gave Izzie a little tickle under her chin. “And Isabel! How are you?”
Izzie huddled against Marian’s shoulder, her eyes round with fear. Marian laughed and patted her sister on the back. “It’s okay, Izzie. This is Amy. Don’t you remember her? She came to visit us once.”
Amy pulled Marian to the back of the row. “I’ve missed you. Are you still writing? Did you know that I check your blog every week or so? You’ve got followers! But they’re annoyed because you never post anything new.”
“Really?” Marian’s pulse increased. “People are reading my blog?”
“Sure, they are. But Marian, you only have two posts on there. You need more.”
Marian shook her head. “You know I can’t. You know that’s over for me.”
“Well, as far as I can tell, you had the shortest rumspringa of any Amish person in history,” Amy said, then she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Nee. It’s true.” Marian set Izzie down so she stood on the floor. Marian grasped her plump little hand, and Izzie stood there, proudly, wavering only slightly.
“You could write posts, and I could put them up for you. Would that be forbidden?”
Marian’s face lit up. Her mind whirled. Would it be forbidden? “You mean I write things on paper, and then you type what I write onto the computer?”
“Yeah. It wouldn’t even be much work for me.”
Marian’s lips parted with pleasure. Could she really keep writing her blog?
She hadn’t joined church yet. So in that respect, it would even be fine for her to get on the computer herself. But she’d been through that. With being in charge of the whole household plus Izzie, there was no way she had time to be going to the library to use the computer.
“What do you say?” Amy asked.
Marian swallowed. “Let me think on it a bit, will you?”
“Of course. But how will I know? How will you contact me?”
“I can send the blog posts to you in the mail if I decide to do it.” Marian laughed. “We write a lot of letters around here. It’s one of our main ways to communicate.”
Amy nodded. “Okay. You have my address, right?”
“I have your address.”
Amy touched Marian’s arm. “So how are you? Is everything all right?”
Marian’s eyes misted over at the tone of compassion in her friend’s voice.
“What is it?” Amy asked. “What’s wrong?”
Marian blew out her breath. It wasn’t normal to share burdens with outsiders, but Amy was different. Amy was her friend. Or had been, before Marian had exited their relationship. But right then, standing there with her, she realized how much she had missed Amy. She’d missed their times together, laughing and sharing and enjoying each other’s company.
“My mamm is ill,” she said. She glanced around to make sure no one else could hear her share with this Englischer. “She’s in a sanitarium. But we’re praying she’ll be released soon.”
Amy’s eyes were wide. “Oh no. I’m so sorry. But a sanitarium? Not a hospital?”
“It’s a place for people who have a kind of sickness in their minds.”
Amy sucked in her lips. “Oh. I see.”
Marian felt stupid then. Standing there, blurting out her family’s most private business. What had she been thinking?
“So you’re in charge of everything?” Amy asked.
Marian nodded.
“So that’s why,” Amy said, her voice frank.
Marian’s brow raised.
“That’s why you stopped all contact with me. And with Roger.”
Marian’s heart skipped a beat at Roger’s name. She’d been successful in putting the image and memory of him out of her mind. She hadn’t known him long, but they’d had a connection. She remembered how her heart would race and her skin would tingle whenever he was near. But he was an Englischer. Out of bounds.
Getting close to him was playing with fire. So she’d forgotten him. And she’d fallen in love with Thomas Groft.
“He asks about you, you know,” Amy went on. “Every single time I see him. Even when he knows we don’t communicate any more. He never gives up.”
Marian’s face grew hot, and she pulled on the neck of her cape dress. W
hy was it suddenly so warm in the store?
“He liked you.” Amy smiled. “A lot.”
Marian bent down to pick up Izzie, but Izzie wasn’t in the mood to be picked up. She began to fuss and stiffen her spine so Marian put her back down.
“I’ve made you uncomfortable,” Amy said. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to stop talking about him?”
Marian tipped her head. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t see him anymore.”
“He’d like to see you again.”
Marian shook her head. “Nee. It can’t happen.”
“Didn’t you like another boy? Someone in your community?”
The weight of her decision the day before settled over Marian like being smothered under bales of hay. She worked to grab air, her shoulders drooping.
“Oh no!” Amy cried. “I’m being awful to you today! What happened?”
“Nothing,” Marian struggled to get the word out. “My life right now is Izzie and Dat and the farm. I haven’t got time for beaus.”
“I’ll shut up,” Amy said.
Marian smiled. “Nee. Don’t be silly. It’s wonderful to talk to you.”
“Can we still be friends, then?”
Marian pondered her question. Months ago, she had decided it wasn’t a good idea. But as she thought about it, she remembered that the Strackvers down the road were friends with the Englisch doctor and his family. Not that they spent a lot of time together, but she knew they visited from time to time.
“I couldn’t go to your house,” Marian said. “Dat wouldn’t like it.”
“We could meet here every now and then, couldn’t we?” Amy grinned. “And I could learn how to write a letter with paper and pencil.” She laughed at that, reaching down to give Izzie another tickle.
Izzie laughed and plopped down on her bottom. She crawled to the nearest shelf and began fingering the boxes of laundry detergent.
“I’d like that,” Marian said to Amy, her spirits lifting.
“And you’ll send me a blog post, okay?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“All right. Until later then.” Amy’s blue eyes gleamed, and she gave Marian another big smile before leaving her.
Marian watched her go. A wriggle of excitement fluttered through her stomach. For the first time in days, she felt better. Lighter. Like maybe everything in her life wasn’t broken.
****
Izzie sat in the middle of the floor watching Marian lay out the newly purchased cloth. She set the ripped apart pieces of one of Izzie’s old dresses over the top of the new cloth and cut around the pieces to make a larger dress. Marian was quick with the scissors, and she wasn’t bad at stitching either. Izzie should have a new dress by week’s end.
Staying busy was keeping her sane. She tried to focus solely on the tasks at hand, schooling her mind from any errant thoughts. A strange phenomena kept occurring, though. From the corner of her eye, she kept thinking she saw flashes of a figure moving near. A figure that looked like Thomas. But when she would double-check, no one was there.
Each time it happened, her heart would pound with excitement and hope would flood through her. Each time, she would think, Thomas won’t accept my decision. He’s going to wait for me no matter what!
But, no one was ever there. More than once, Marian grew concerned that perhaps she was losing her mind. The fact that her mother was in a place for mental disturbances did nothing to reassure her. Did mental illness run in families?
If she could make it to the library, she could go on a computer and check. She’d learned during her short rumspringa that she could find anything on the Internet. Anything at all.
She reined in her thoughts. It did no good to dwell on the past.
Izzie crawled over to her.
“Watch out, pumpkin!” She laughed. “Don’t you crawl over your new dress.”
Izzie giggled and stuck her fingers in her mouth.
Marian decided she would write a blog post that evening about sewing her sister’s dress. She could make it humorous by describing Izzie’s drooling enthusiasm for crawling over the fabric before the dress was made. Marian leaned back on her haunches. It would be fun to write.
“Marian?” her dat called at her from the kitchen.
Marian sprang up. “Dat? Are you home? I haven’t fixed dinner yet.”
He came into the front room. “It’s not time for the meal. I just wanted to check on the baby.”
Marian glanced at Izzie who was rolling a large spool of thread across the floor. “She’s fine.”
“I see that.” He lowered himself with a low grunt onto the couch.
“Is everything all right outside?” Marian asked, concerned over seeing her father inside at that hour.
“I’m going to call The Peaceful Haven.”
Marian went stiff. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“I want to check with the doctors. They told you two weeks. I just want to check.”
“They said possibly two weeks. It wasn’t for certain.”
“Nevertheless, I’m going to call.”
Marian scooped up Izzie and stood, facing her dat. “Can we come out to the phone shanty with you? Can we hear what you have to say?”
Dat rose and patted Izzie’s head. “Nee. I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’ll come back and tell you what they said.”
“All right. Go on, then.”
She watched him leave the house and trudge across the lawn to the main road. The phone shanty was a piece down the way, but it wouldn’t take him long to get there. She wondered at his sudden urgency to talk with the doctors. He’d seemed content with her report the day she’d returned from the sanitarium.
She put Izzie in her high chair and grabbed a handful of dry cereal to set on her tray. Izzie gurgled her pleasure and started to stuff the cereal into her mouth. Marian went back into the front room and gathered up the fabric and her sewing basket. She didn’t dare leave anything lying about with pins in it where Izzie could reach.
She added a few wooden toys onto Izzie’s tray as the cereal was nearly gone. With a grin at her sister, she rescued a few pieces of cereal from the floor, blowing them off, and returning them to the tray.
“I’m going to start the meal,” she said. She turned the high chair so it would face her in the kitchen. She glanced out the window, looking for her father. An uneasy feeling wriggled through her heart, and she wondered why she felt so worried.
She took the meat from the icebox and began to prepare it, cutting the onions and peeling the garlic to fry with it. She moved about the kitchen in a stiff, habitual way, her ears attune to any noises from the front door.
Her eye caught a toy car whizzing through the air close by. It clunked against the lower cupboard door and fell to the floor with a thud. Izzie screamed in delight. She grabbed up a wooden block and was ready to hurl it when Marian caught her hand.
“Oh no, you don’t, you little rascal!” she cried. “Give me that block. They’re not to throw.”
Izzie gave her a mischievous look and then stuck out her lower lip in a pout. “Gimme, gimme,” she whined.
The front screen door slammed, and Dat came hurrying in.
“I knew it!” he cried. “I knew something was wrong!”
His eyes were frantic and his cheeks flushed.
“What is it? What’s happened?” Marian rushed across the room to him.
“She’s gone.” The skin of his face was stretched tight across his cheekbones, every wrinkle pressed smooth.
“What do you mean? Who’s gone?”
“Your mamm! That’s who!” He rushed into the wash room and grabbed his jacket. “She’s escaped.”
“What?” Marian’s heart went cold.
“What kind of place is that? They can’t keep track of their patients?” He grabbed her arm. “I’ve called for the van. I’m going.”
“We’ll go with you!” She started for the stairs to pack things for Izzie.
“Nee! You won’t! You�
��ll stay here.” His voice was harsh.
“But why? I want to go and look for her!” She gripped the stair rail. “I have to help you. I can find someone to watch Izzie if you don’t want her along. But you’ve got to let me come!” Her words were quick and breathless.
“Nee!” He crossed the room in two steps, peering out the front window. “Hurry up, Douglas! Hurry up!” he said into the air.
“Dat,” Marian said, her voice loud and strong. “Let me go with you!”
He turned from the window and glared at her. “What if she comes home? Huh? And no one is here? What then? What will she do?”
Marian sank down onto the step. She hadn’t thought of that. But could Mamm get home on her own? Could she make it the full seventy-five miles? And how? Was there a bus?
But Dat was right. Someone had to remain there and wait.
“Okay,” she said. “You’re right. Izzie and I will stay here.”
He paced the floor, his eyes darting to hers at every turn. “I knew it. I just knew something wasn’t right. I could feel it.”
She had no idea how he could feel it and supposed it didn’t matter. She’d never seen her dat so distraught, and it filled her with fear.
He ran a hand through his hair. “The doctors were calling the shanty. That was the phone number I left when we admitted her. They told me they’ve been calling for two hours. No one picked up.”
“When did she leave?”
“Sometime during the night. They don’t know for sure.” He rubbed his hands over his beard, tugging on it. “Where did she go?”
“She told me over and over she wanted to come home. I’m sure she’s on her way.”
“How? She has no money.” He snatched up his felt hat and put it on his head. “Hurry up!” he said again, leaning to look through the window.
“We’ll pray. Gott knows where she is, and He’ll keep her safe.” She said the words with conviction. She needed to hear them herself, just as much as her father did.
He stopped fidgeting. “Jah. You’re right. The Lord Gott knows what to do.”
They heard tires crunch over the gravel in the drive. Dat stepped to her and gave her a quick squeeze. He kissed Izzie on the cheek.
Amish Romance BOOK BUNDLE: Marian's Story: Amish Romance Boxed Set (Hollybrook Amish Romance) Page 9