“Bishop wants to talk to me,” Mamm said.
Marian stopped moving. “What?”
“Jah. He wants to talk to me.”
“But why?”
Mamm shook her head. “To check if I’m crazy or not, is what I’m thinking. He never was happy I ran away from that horrid place.”
“The Peaceful Haven wasn’t horrid.”
Mamm reached out for the cup of tea Marian offered her. She took a sip and looked through the steam at her daughter. “It was to me. Englisch pills and Englisch doctors.”
“It’s a Mennonite place, not Englisch.”
Mamm jerked her head, and the strings hanging from her kapp swished to the side. “Englisch pills and Englisch doctors,” she repeated. “Head doctors.”
“Counselors and psychologists. And you’re better, aren’t you?”
Mamm took another sip of tea and squeezed her lips into a straight line. Marian sat in her rocker and took a drink of her own tea. Izzie had found the basket of toys Marian kept on hand and dumped them onto the floor. She sat in the middle of the wooden toys, her chubby legs spread and bits of cookie stuck to her chin.
“Mamm?” Marian questioned. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“And what could that possibly be?” Mamm snapped. She set her cup on the floor next to her chair. “I told your father I wouldn’t talk to the bishop.”
“You can’t defy the bishop like that! What will he think?”
“He’ll think he needs to mind his own business.”
“Mamm!” Marian was horrified. She glanced quickly to the door, praying no one from Thomas’s family was nearby. Which was silly. No one would be hanging about her porch on such a cold day. And even if they were, they wouldn’t be standing there trying to eavesdrop.
Mamm was watching her. “What? You checking to see if someone might hear?” She gave a dry laugh. “Don’t worry, I won’t announce it.”
“But Mamm, the bishop cares about you. He only wants to make sure you’re all right.”
Mamm began rocking, the chair squeaking and groaning as she rocked faster and faster. Marian’s stomach lurched. Was her mother regressing? Going back to the days when she couldn’t think straight? The possibility was never far from Marian’s mind. Out of habit, she looked at Izzie, checked how she was dressed, checked for any signs of negligence. But the little girl wore warm clothes and showed no signs of anything but a half-eaten, half-smeared cookie.
“Tomorrow,” Mamm said. “That’s when he wants to meet me.”
“It will be fine. Are you scared? Is that why you don’t want to see him?”
Mamm’s eyes grew watery. She blinked and took a huge breath. “What if he wants to send me back? What then?”
So, that was it. She was afraid.
“He won’t. Why would he? You’re doing fine. Izzie is fine.”
“Izzie was always fine,” Mamm said, her voice rising.
But Mamm was wrong. Izzie hadn’t always been fine. More than once, Mamm had totally ignored her cries, letting the baby languish in dirty diapers while she forgot about her entirely to focus instead on some silly chore.
“Just talk to him. You’ll see. Everything will be okay.”
“I’m going to ask him about Christmas. I’m going to tell him the Grofts think celebrating the Lord’s birth is evil.”
Marian jumped from her chair. “You’ll do no such thing!” she cried.
Mamm stood and leveled a look at Marian. “I am your mother. You will not use that disrespectful tone with me.”
Marian looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry. But please don’t say anything. Bishop is must be well aware that the Grofts never attend the Christmas program. I’m sure he already knows.”
Mamm snorted. “I doubt it. He’s too busy worrying about people losing their minds.”
She stood, grabbed up her cape, and fastened it securely under her chin. “Snow is going to start again. I better get Izzie home.”
Marian put Izzie’s coat on her and then picked up the little girl and gave her a squeeze. “Come again and visit your big sister, all right?”
Izzie snuggled into Marian’s shoulder. “I come,” she said.
Mamm took Izzie from Marian’s arms.
“Thanks for coming over.”
Mamm said nothing, only headed for the door. Marian put her hand on the knob and hesitated. “I know you’re scared,” she said in a low voice, “but you won’t have to go back there. Dat would never allow it.”
“But if the bishop orders it…”
“He won’t,” Marian said with conviction. She pulled open the door and a blast of frigid air rushed in. “Do you want me to hitch up the wagon?”
“Nee. We’ll be home well before you’d get the horse reined up.”
****
The noon meal was served and steaming on the table when Thomas came in. He gave the food an appreciative glance and walked over to Marian who was standing next to the sink. He put his arms around her and drew her close.
“Ach!” Marian said with a giggle. “You’re freezing cold!”
He held her closer. “Then warm me up, wife,” he teased.
She squirmed out of his arms. “Thomas Groft, you’re mean!” She pulled on his arm and led him to the fireplace. “Stand here and get some feeling back into you.”
He held his hands toward the flames and rubbed them together. “It’s bitter out. We’re in for a big freeze.”
“It’s already frozen.”
“Jah, it is, but it’ll get worse.”
Marian snuggled into his side. “The kinner will be happy.”
“Oh?”
“They love to play on the frozen pond, slipping around on the ice.”
Thomas chuckled. “I remember doing that myself a time or two.”
Marian nodded. “All of us have, I’d guess.” She squeezed his arm. “You ready to eat?”
“More than ready.”
They sat down to the table, prayed, and began eating. After Thomas had cleared his first plate of food, he set his fork down.
“You don’t want more?” she asked.
“Jah, in a minute.” He gazed at her. “I want to ask you something.”
The seriousness of his tone gave Marian pause. “What is it?”
“Are you happy here?” he asked. He looked down at his plate, but before he did, she thought she saw a flash of pain in his eyes.
She leaned back, her spine stiff. This was the second time he’d asked her that, and she hadn’t liked it the first time. “Why do you ask?”
He looked up at her, and this time the pain on his face was unmistakable. “I’m asking.”
“Of course, Thomas. You know I love you.” Her brow creased, and she stared at him, dismayed at his repeated questioning.
“Jah. You love me. But there’s something… Is it the Englisch boy?”
She gaped at him. “What?”
“I know you were sweet on that Englisch boy. And not so long ago.”
“You mean Roger?” She felt a trembling start in her gut and move into her throat. Truth be told, she had fallen for the Englisch boy, but she’d put a stop to it knowing it was a stark impossibility. “I haven’t thought of him in months.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
“Then what are you asking?”
Thomas ran his hand over his short beard and clenched and unclenched his hand on the table. “I guess I’m wondering if you regret marrying me.”
“Thomas! How can you say such a thing? Have I failed you?”
He put his hand on her, and she felt a tremor run down his arm. “Nee. You haven’t failed me. But the light is gone.”
“The light?”
“The light in your eyes. I only see it now when you’re working on your column.”
She sucked in her breath. Was it true? Did she really only look happy when she was writing?
“So, are you happy, Marian?”
She swallowed with diffi
culty, and felt the lump in her throat tighten. Being married wasn’t how she’d thought it would be. She’d thought that when she moved into the Groft’s daadi haus, it would be wonderful good. She thought she’d have two families, instead of one. Never would she have predicted that her mother-in-law would reject her, indeed show downright hostility toward her. Never would she have predicted that she would feel like an intruder in her new home.
“Marian?” Thomas’s voice broke, and his eyes welled with tears. She had waited too long to answer.
“Thomas, you know I love you,” she said quickly.
He nodded. “But do you regret marrying me?”
“Nee!” she said with a sob. “Nee!” She clasped his hand.
“Then what is it? What’s wrong?” He bent across the table and looked deeply into her eyes. “Please, tell me.”
She closed her eyes. How could she tell her husband that his own mother was making life miserable for her? And besides, shouldn’t she be able to stand on her own two feet? Shouldn’t she be able to monitor her own emotions regardless of what others did or said? She shouldn’t need Thomas to run interference for her.
“I’m adjusting,” she murmured, which was partially true. A stinging guilt rose through her. Was she lying to her own husband now?
“To what? To being married? To living with me?” There was a quiver in his voice.
“Nee. Or jah, maybe so. But not because I don’t love you, I do.” She spoke with force, begging him to believe her.
He extracted his hand from her grasp and observed her. In her heart, she knew he didn’t completely believe her and rightly so. She opened her mouth, wanting to tell him how she still struggled with Betsy, but she simply couldn’t do it. The words wouldn’t come.
A long moment of silence stretched between them. The only sound was the crackling of a log as it fell into the cinders.
“I’ll have more potatoes,” Thomas finally said.
She grabbed up the bowl and passed the potatoes to him. He took them with no comment, silently piling a steaming heap onto his plate. She picked up her own fork to continue eating, but her appetite had fled. She couldn’t have taken a bite if she’d wanted to.
She sat another five minutes while Thomas finished eating. Then he scooted back his chair, and a sharp scraping sound filled the room. He rose and looked down at her.
“Is this about Christmas?”
Her eyes misted over. Not directly, perhaps, but it had added to her disappointment and unrest. But she couldn’t answer him; she only looked into his sad eyes and then back down at her plate. He tossed his cloth napkin onto the table, walked to the door, took his coat off the peg and pulled it on.
“Let’s go to the big house for supper,” he said, opening the door to a rush of cold wind. He closed the door firmly behind him.
Mechanically, Marian got up and cleared the table. She stacked the dirty dishes to the side of the sink and put the left-overs into the fridge. She squirted some dish soap into the sink and filled it with water. Even though the hot water was on, it came out freezing cold. She paused, waiting for it to warm up, but then she gave up and plunged her hands into the frigid water. She gasped with the cold, but stubbornly continued, washing each dish and setting each one into the drainer.
Five
The temperature steadily dropped throughout the afternoon and into the evening. When Thomas and Marian hurried back to their daadi haus after supper that evening, Marian thought her breath would crystallize and fall to the ground like ice shards. The cold had settled deep inside her with a dull pain. Even as they sat by the fire before turning in for the night, the shaking ache in her gut wouldn’t go away.
She began to wonder whether the cold was from the temperatures outside or the temperatures inside the daadi haus. Thomas was polite, but distant. And she didn’t know how to fix it.
“Shall we go to bed?” he asked, when the clock had barely reached nine.
She nodded. “Jah. Will you bank the fire?”
He stared at her. “Don’t I always?”
She flushed at his impatient tone. “Jah, jah. You always do. Thank you, Thomas.” She rose and went to the sink, not because there was anything to do at the sink, but because she didn’t know what to do with herself.
She wasn’t accustomed to a rift between herself and Thomas. What made it worse was knowing it was her fault. She was failing him, and the knowledge cut her to the core. Sighing, she rearranged some utensils in the cutlery drawer while Thomas put the fire to bed.
She picked up one of the two lit lanterns and carried it back to their bedroom. She put on her nightgown and climbed between the cold sheets. Thomas came in and methodically changed his clothes.
He slipped into bed beside her, but they didn’t touch. Nor did they touch all night. She lay as if in a coffin on her side of the bed, not snuggling into Thomas’s warmth though she was chilled to the bone. He didn’t reach for her, either.
The night lasted forever. The next morning she rose in the darkness, got dressed, and padded out to the front room. With the moon still shining, she noted the crusts of shimmery ice edging the frame of each window. She walked to the glass and put her finger to it. The ice was inside, too. She shivered and turned to the fire. Thomas was there, coaxing it back to life.
She picked up the kettle and poured a bit more water into it. She fired up the cook stove and set the kettle on for tea.
“Do you need to go out in this today?” she asked. “It looks wicked cold.”
Thomas glanced at her from where he was squatting. “Got to tend the animals. But I don’t think Dat and I will dally outside today.”
She picked up her shawl from the back of the rocker and put it around her shoulders. “I think it’s too cold for school, too.”
“Deb will be happy. Esther, too.”
Marian smiled. “But not Martha.”
“Nee, not Martha.”
Marian breathed with relief. She and Thomas were chatting—maybe not with the ease of before, but at least they were communicating.
“Deb will want to play outside,” Marian said.
“That she will. Be a bit foolish, though. It’s too cold.”
“I imagine your mamm won’t hear of it.” Marian mentioned Thomas’s mother with a purposeful light tone, ever attempting to put a positive spin on her relationship with Betsy.
Thomas gave the fire another stern poke. “Mamm will give her some inside work for sure.”
Marian got busy scrambling eggs and making toast. She fried thick slabs of bacon and then shredded left-over baked potatoes into the cast iron skillet for hash browns. The potatoes sizzled in the bacon grease, filling the room with a delicious aroma. She served the food steaming hot to Thomas, who had already come to the table.
She sat beside him, and they bowed together for the silent prayer. He cleared his throat, and she passed him the eggs. When he took the bowl from her, their fingers brushed against each other. She nearly wept at his unexpected touch. He hesitated and gazed over at her, as if assessing her.
She coughed slightly and picked up the plate of bacon. “Here you are,” she said matter-of-factly. She kept her spine straight and tried to keep a pleasant smile on her face, when all she really wanted to do was run somewhere private and pour her heart out to God.
But then, she’d prayed numerous times over her situation with Betsy, and nothing seemed to improve. Had God stopped answering prayer? In the grand scheme of things, she knew her problem was miniscule. But right then, it loomed plenty large in her heart.
When breakfast was finished, Thomas excused himself to go outside. Marian cleaned up the kitchen area and sat down to work on her embroidery. Slowly, the sun inched its way up the horizon, sending rays of light through the icy windows. Marian heard the crackle of ice on the branches outside. She made a mental note to spread some lard and peanut butter on pinecones to feed the birds. Deb would probably want to help her. In fact, they could work on that sometime this morning—as soon as Ma
rian was willing to brave the weather and venture over to the big house ask her.
She and Deb could make a morning of it. Perhaps, Esther and Martha would like to join them. It could be a bird-feeding party. It shouldn’t be hard to gather some pinecones, and they could use embroidery thread to hang them back on the trees.
As Marian thought about gathering pinecones, her mind traveled back to the last time she had collected them. It had been the previous year, and she and Izzie, who was barely walking at the time, went out in the cold and gathered an entire basketful to use as a centerpiece for the table at Christmas dinner.
Marian stifled a pang of longing. No Christmas dinner that year. No Christmas anything. She shook her head and got back to her stitching.
By ten o’clock, Marian had finished the pattern on the border of the pillowcase. It was time to go to the big house and invite Deb and the girls for her bird feeding project. She checked the fire and adjusted the screen to insure she could safely leave it for a while. Then she slipped into her heaviest coat and put on her heavy shoes. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and was ready to leave the house when Esther burst through her door, her eyes wild.
“Is Deb with you?” she cried.
Marian frowned. “Nee. Why?”
“She’s gone! Mamm can’t find her anywhere!”
Marian’s stomach tensed. “What? What do you mean?”
“She’s not in the house anywhere! And we looked outside! She’s nowhere!”
Marian pushed Esther back through the door, and they took off running toward the big house. Thomas was racing from the barn with Isaiah and Ben right behind him.
“Did you find her?” Thomas yelled.
“Nee!” Esther cried. “She’s gone!”
Marian threw open the side door and rushed inside the big house. Betsy ran to her and grabbed her shoulders. “Is she with you? Is she in the daadi haus?”
“Nee, I’m sorry,” Marian responded, fear coursing through her. Where could she have gone? It was so cold outside, bitter, bitter cold. What was Deb thinking? “I’m going to look!” She turned to run from the house.
“Wait!” Thomas said. “We all need to go.”
Amish Romance BOOK BUNDLE: Marian's Story: Amish Romance Boxed Set (Hollybrook Amish Romance) Page 16