by Sarah Price
“I know that. I was standing right there!” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I meant why did you call the doctor?”
He answered her question by avoiding it altogether. “You seem upset.”
She felt her throat constrict and knew that she was close to tears. “I am upset. I mean I was. Before.” She didn’t know what she was saying. She’d been so angry at Ezekiel for not taking care of Katie. And she’d been ready to stand up to him in the kitchen when her mother had arrived. But all of the fight had vanished from her when the doctor had come.
“Why were you upset?” he asked. “Before.”
“Because of Katie,” she said, not able to stop the tear spilling from her eye. She swiped at it. “I’ve grown rather fond of those boys and little Katie. And the thought of anything happening to one of them upset me.”
“Hm. I see.”
Another tear fell. “Do you? Do you see, Ezekiel?” She started to reach up to brush the tear away but, to her surprise, felt his hand on her wrist. He kept hold of her arm and reached up with his free hand to gently wipe the tear. Her eyes met his, and she saw a deep sorrow in his dark chocolate gaze. “I wasn’t supposed to care so much,” she whispered. “That wasn’t my plan.”
“Care about the children?”
Her heart felt as if it would pound its way right out of her chest. She didn’t want to confess how she really felt to him. What if he didn’t feel the same way? But the intensity of his gaze made the last of her resolve to be strong fade away.
“Nee, Ezekiel,” she conceded. “About you.”
His grip on her wrist loosened, and she heard him exhale.
“I didn’t want to care about you,” she continued, knowing that if she stopped, she’d lose her one opportunity to speak so candidly to him. “And I fought it, Ezekiel. I truly tried to fight it. I mean, you made it clear from the beginning that you weren’t looking for a . . .”
She hesitated, not wanting to use the word “replacement.”
“Well, anyway, after all that you’ve been through, I didn’t blame you. Besides, I just wanted a job where I would be appreciated and helpful.”
The hint of a smile turned up the corner of his lips. “So what changed?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I fought caring for you. I truly did. The whole situation with Henry and his earache . . . well, I should’ve known better, given that you don’t care for medicine and all. I should’ve let—”
“What did you just say?” His eyes narrowed. “About medicine?”
Her eyes widened. “Well, everyone knows you didn’t want Katie Ruth to get treated for her—”
He held up his hand, stopping her in midsentence. “Hold on there, Myrna. Wherever did you get that idea?”
Stunned, she responded with an incoherent stammer of sounds.
He released her wrist and turned his back to her as he walked the length of the porch. His boots made loud clunking noises on the floorboards, and she could tell that he was tugging at his beard. Finally, he turned around and faced her. “Mayhaps it’s time for us to take that walk, or—better yet—a buggy ride. We’ve a lot to talk about, Myrna. You see, you’ve got things backward. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Katie Ruth to be treated; it was that she didn’t want it.”
* * *
For the first ten minutes, they sat in silence as the horse trotted along the road, pulling Ezekiel’s buggy behind it.
Myrna couldn’t speak to the reasons behind his silence, but she certainly knew the reason for her own: shock. If what Ezekiel had said was true, there was a lot of explaining to be done. The only problem was that Myrna wasn’t certain who needed to do the explaining in the first place.
Up ahead was a small park. Ezekiel guided the horse into the parking lot and quickly tied it to the hitching post near the far end of the gravel lot. Then he walked around to help Myrna get down. Only, when her feet hit the ground, he did not loosen his hold upon her hand. Instead, he held it.
“Let’s walk over to that picnic table, ja?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he began walking toward it. Myrna’s feet followed him practically without her even thinking about it.
Only after she was seated did Ezekiel begin to pace along a small patch of grass, his head dipped down as if he was deep in thought.
“Myrna, I’m not the type of person who would speak poorly about anyone, especially Katie Ruth. After all, I really couldn’t blame her.” He glanced at her as if to make certain that she was paying attention. He needn’t have bothered, because Myrna was hanging on his every word.
In the five weeks she’d been working for him, Ezekiel had never talked about Katie Ruth. That realization reinforced the seriousness of their discussion, and she remained riveted on Ezekiel and what he was about to say.
“You once asked me why her family never visited the kinner.” He swallowed, his eyes drifting to look at the sky as if deep in thought, or perhaps memory. “We had disagreements about Katie Ruth’s treatment, you see.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled. For a moment, he remained silent. She could tell that discussing Katie Ruth was difficult for him, and she would give him as much time as he needed to say what was on his mind.
“When I met her, I didn’t know her family. Her family’s haus was in a neighboring church district at the time.”
Myrna nodded. She knew that church districts often redrew the lines as communities expanded. It wasn’t uncommon for families to be reassigned to another district.
“It wasn’t until after I asked her to marry me that I learned her father had been raised in a Swartzentruber family.” He glanced at her, clearly waiting for her reaction.
Try as she might, Myrna couldn’t help but catch her breath. Swartzentruber Amish? They were renowned for being the most conservative of the different Amish communities. They followed the commandment of avoiding pride so strictly that, in some cases, they didn’t mow their yards, remove their garbage, or even clean their houses for fear of being considered prideful.
She’d never met a Swartzentruber family, but she had known there were small pockets of them living in LaGrange County.
“Was she raised the same way?” Myrna asked, unable to mask her genuine curiosity.
He shook his head. “Nee, she was not. But her daed was very strict.” He exhaled. “You just can’t shake that type of upbringing, I reckon.”
Myrna could only imagine.
“Katie Ruth didn’t appear to be so conservative, but after we married, I noticed little things. The haus wasn’t very clean. The garden was poorly maintained.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “I didn’t say anything, Myrna. She was my fraa, after all. And she was right gut with the little ones. When she began to show signs of not being well, we thought it was because of the boppli. It wasn’t until her first trimester ended that we found out about the cancer.”
“Breast cancer?”
He nodded. “Ja, breast cancer. But it had spread.”
“That must’ve been frightening.”
“For me? Ja, it was.” Something shifted in his eyes, a darkness that spread as he spoke. “But it was God’s will, Myrna. That’s what her daed said. And Katie Ruth listened to him. Even though I begged her and pleaded with her, she would not relent. She said that if God wanted to take her, who was she to question Him.” He laughed, but it was a bitter laugh. “That’s when I realized that no amount of arguing would get through to her. I spoke with her family, but they supported her decision. In fact, her daed accused me of being prideful and threatened to have me shunned.”
Myrna gasped. “Shunned for wanting your fraa to heal?” That made no sense to Myrna, but then again, she knew that a lot of things about Swartzentruber Amish didn’t make sense. “And you have to see him every other Sunday at worship? Listen to him preach?”
He grunted.
“Oh help,” she muttered. She wasn’t certain how he could sit there, listening to this man preach to the congregation. But church leadership
was divinely appointed, even if not all of the members favored the man leading.
“No one knew, you see,” he continued. “They all presumed that I was the one who didn’t want her getting treatment. And I knew that I couldn’t defend myself, Myrna, or I would risk being accused of gossiping. Besides, it’s not my way to accuse others. They have to answer to a much higher authority, ja?”
She let all of this sink in, realizing that everything people had thought about Ezekiel was backward. If she’d had any doubts before, she had none now.
But she did have some questions.
“If all of this is true—and I don’t doubt you, Ezekiel—why did you get upset when I used that ear candle on Henry?”
He gave her a sideways glance. “Oh, Myrna, if you’d only talked to me, I’d have taken him to a doctor. When I left the farm that afternoon, after our words, I went to town and spoke to my doctor. He gave me amoxicillin for the buwe.”
Once again, his confession caught her off guard. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He gave a little laugh. “When I saw that ear candle—silly thing, that!—I thought that you were against medicine, like Katie Ruth and her family.” He shrugged. “I gave Henry the medicine before you arrived in the mornings and after you left in the evenings.”
Her eyes widened.
As if sensing her astonishment at his confession, he quickly explained, “I didn’t want to offend you.”
Suddenly, she understood what had happened with Katie. Just as she hadn’t wanted to upset Ezekiel by suggesting the doctor should see her, Ezekiel had feared the same reaction from her. And yet, when he became concerned, he had done the one thing that he knew might upset her, just as she had called her mother.
“But they are your children,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Why would it matter if I was offended?”
“Because I had fallen in love with you.”
She caught her breath.
“Ja, Myrna. Mayhaps from the very first day you showed up here, I knew that you were special. But I hadn’t wanted to marry again, just as I told you at your daed’s store that Saturday. I never wanted to go through again what Katie Ruth and her family put me through. I never wanted to realize that someone I loved was a complete stranger to me. But then you happened.”
You happened. Those two words struck her heart, and she caught her breath. It wasn’t that she hadn’t suspected he cared for her, but hearing the words made her heart flutter.
“What are you saying, Ezekiel?”
He took a few steps toward her and stopped just inches from where she sat. He crouched down and took her hands in his. “Myrna, I’m telling you that I want a second chance at happiness. That I feel ready to commit to another woman. But not just any woman. You see, I want to have more than just a second fraa. I want you.”
She could hardly believe what she’d heard. “Are you asking me . . . ?”
“To marry me, ja, Myrna Bontrager.” He squeezed her hands and gazed upward, into her face. “I want us to marry, Myrna, and for you to be my fraa and my friend. My best friend, Myrna. And mother to my children. They love you so much.”
And there it was. The children loved her. But Myrna needed to make certain that, despite his protest otherwise, she was not just a replacement wife.
“And you, Ezekiel?” she asked. “What about you?”
He paused, his eyes searching her face. She held her breath as she waited.
“Well,” he started in a measured tone, “if you remembered to call me Zeke, I’d love you even more than I already do.”
It took her a second to understand what he’d said, and she found herself laughing.
“So, Myrna, will you? Will you marry me?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing and crying at the same time. “Ja, Zeke, I will happily marry you!”
Epilogue
Myrna sat on the porch of Ezekiel’s house and stared across the field at the cows as they meandered through the pasture, their heads dipped down as they grazed. Behind them to the west, the sun began to sink into the sky, casting a soft glow on their flanks.
“Myrna?”
She turned at the sound of David’s voice.
“I mean, Maem,” he said shyly as he pushed open the screen door and joined her on the porch. “That sounds funny,” he said as he sat next to her on the bench.
She laughed. “I agree.” Leaning over, she nudged his arm. “But I like hearing it anyway. We’ll get used to it, don’t you think?”
He nodded.
It had been two days since the wedding. Being that it was a spring wedding—and Ezekiel’s second marriage—it had been smaller than usual. But Myrna hadn’t minded. In fact, she felt that the intimacy of the service and celebration had been better than a large, all-day gathering with four hundred people coming and going.
Everything had been perfect. From the worship service given by Bishop Brenneman to the meal prepared by the women in her church district, Myrna wouldn’t have changed one thing about her wedding day.
Still, she found it hard to reconcile the fact that she was no longer Myrna Bontrager but Myrna Riehl. That her home was Ezekiel’s home. And that his children were now her children.
That, too, would take some getting used to.
“I’m glad you’re our new maem,” David said.
“Because of the cookies?”
“Well, I like those, ja.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “But I like having a maem around to take care of me.”
She put her arm around his shoulders and hugged him. All of the children had been thrilled when Ezekiel and Myrna told them the news just three weeks ago. Their excitement made the transition much easier for her, and for that she was thankful.
“Maem,” David said, interrupting her thoughts. “Remember how you told me about your maem and her cookie club?”
Myrna nodded. “Ja, I do.”
“Do you think we could start our own club and make cookies for worship Sundays? So that everyone could enjoy them?”
Her heart swelled at his question. David was learning to be like his father, generous to others. “I think that’s a wunderbarr idea, David.”
“What’s this?”
Both David and Myrna looked up, surprised to see Ezekiel leaning against the side of the house, watching them.
Myrna flushed and pressed her lips together, a surge of energy coursing through her veins, and she had to look away. She heard him chuckle and knew that he must’ve caught her. He walked to the steps and joined them on the porch.
“Go on inside, David,” Ezekiel said, his voice soft but stern. “It’s time to be getting to bed, ja? We’ve worship service tomorrow.”
Obediently, David did as he was told, sliding off the bench, which left an opening for Ezekiel to occupy next to Myrna.
Once the boy disappeared, Ezekiel reached out and took Myrna’s hand in his. He lifted it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles.
“How is Myrna this evening?” he asked.
“Myrna is fine,” she teased back. “Especially now that you are here, Zeke.”
“Hmm.” His leg brushed against hers, and Myrna leaned against him.
“What did you do today? I didn’t ask earlier,” he said in an apologetic way.
“Oh!” Myrna sat up straight and turned enough so that she faced him. “I started organizing that basement.”
He laughed.
“It’s a mess, you know! Why, the shelves haven’t been dusted in years, I believe!”
“I believe so, too.”
“And I organized those boxes down there. Some of them need to be thrown out, I hate to say. But I have everything spick-and-span, ready for all of the wonderful food I’ll can this August.” She beamed. “And Daniel and Henry helped me while David watched little Katie!”
“Did they, now?”
“It was truly a family effort.”
Ezekiel chuckled. “It’s right gut to teach them to be organized.”
&n
bsp; Those words were music to her ears. She sat back again, resuming her position next to him, her arm pressed against his. “You like that, ja? When I organize things?”
He nodded. “I do, indeed, Myrna. It makes you happy, and that’s all I want. For you to be happy.” He paused as he entwined his fingers through hers. “A happy muder makes for a happy haus.” Once again, he lifted her hand and kissed her skin. “And a happy fraa makes for a happy husband.”
She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I am happy.”
“Gut.” His fingers brushed her skin.
“And you?” She lowered her voice. “Are you happy?” She felt him take a long, deep breath. “Oh, Myrna, I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life.”
That was exactly how she felt. But she was too shy to admit it.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as he looked across the field, his eyes following the cows as they wandered. “It’s a beautiful evening, don’t you think?”
“I do.”
“I like sitting here next to you.”
She smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “Me, too. Sitting here with you.”
She felt him relax beside her. “It just feels so right, Myrna. As if this is what was meant to be.”
Oh, how she understood that feeling. She felt exactly the same way.
“Now, let’s see about putting those little ones to bed, shall we?” He stood up, and, reluctantly, she followed. “I know they much prefer having their new maem do it, but I think I’ll help you tonight.”
“Nothing would please me more,” she said as he opened the screen door for her to pass through the opening. As she did, he reached for her arm, took hold of it, and gently stopped her. Turning, she peered up at him, wondering what was wrong.
But nothing was wrong.
He reached out his hand and brushed his fingers along her cheek. “Hmm.” Slowly, he lowered his head until his lips caressed hers in a soft, loving kiss. “I love you, Myrna Riehl,” he whispered as he pulled back.
Behind him, the sun dipped farther beneath the horizon, the sky aflame with reds and oranges. In the distance, the last of the cows lingered on top of the hill, still grazing as they slowly wandered beyond the crest as if melting into the sunset.