by Mary Ellis
Tick, tock, tick, tock—the clock on the wall marked the passage of time. Amy heard stirring overhead. Thomas must be getting up, rising from his knees after morning prayers. She scrambled to her feet. “I had better start the bacon. The men will want a hot meal when they finish chores.”
“Sit!” ordered Sally. “We’re not done yet. Breakfast can wait.”
Amy plopped down. She’d never heard such vehemence from the woman before. “What is it?”
For several moments Sally stared at the ceiling as though it might reveal the answers. “She did mail the letters, Amy. Prudence Summerton wrote back to you just like she said.”
“How do you know that? What happened to them, then?”
Sally’s face contorted as if she were chewing on a sour lemon. “I know, that’s all. Can’t you just take my word for it?”
Amy shook her head back and forth. “Nein, I can’t. You’re the one who started this bare-your-soul conversation, so you cannot stop midstream. Tell me what you’re hiding.”
Sally sighed, sad but resigned. “I know the postman delivered letters here shortly after you wrote to Aunt Prudence. John found them. Who else could they have been from with a Chestnut postmark?”
“If that’s true, where are they?” Icy fingers clawed along her backbone, despite her proximity to the woodstove.
“He threw them into the fire. I saw him do it. Later I poked through the ashes after he left the room. The Summertons’ return address was still visible on the envelope.”
Amy heard movement behind her as she tried to process Sally’s news. She turned to see John Detweiler in the doorway as her belly took a tumble. He stood mute and motionless as though struck by a paralytic fit.
“Is it so, John? Did you burn my aunt’s letters?”
“Jah, I did.”
With those three words, everything changed in Amy’s life. Everything she had trusted and loved and believed in changed in an instant.
SEVENTEEN
Rock of Ages, cleft for me
If the kitchen floorboards had suddenly heaved apart, opening a deep chasm to the center of the earth, John would have jumped in without hesitation. Certain death would have been preferable to the shocked and miserable expression on Amy’s face. He’d awakened that morning with the clear understanding that Thomas was right. Nora’s business wasn’t any of his. He’d overstepped his role as Amy’s fiancé, causing her additional frustration. Dealing with a willful sister must be hard enough without him adding unnecessary pressure.
As he washed and dressed for the day, he planned how he would apologize first to Amy and then to Nora. If they had any future together, he must rein in his need to control situations and have the final word in every discussion. Wasn’t marriage a partnership between a man and woman—a meeting of minds as wells as bodies to form a new whole, greater than either half alone? The male wasn’t the “big” half, like a pie haphazardly split between siblings.
He heard Amy’s voice in the kitchen as soon as he’d left his room. He prayed to know what to say—to have the right words that would undo his badly misguided behavior. He hadn’t minded hearing Sally’s voice too. After all, how could Amy refuse a sincere apology delivered before a loving witness who only had their best interests at heart? But he hadn’t been prepared to hear his grievous sins—sins that shame had forced to the recess of memory—brought forth to convict him on the spot.
“He threw them into the fire. I saw him do it…The Summertons’ return address was still visible on the envelope.”
The floor, however, didn’t rend like an earthquake fault line. John was left facing the only woman he had ever loved.
“Is it so, John? Did you burn my aunt’s letters?”
And he had no choice but to admit the terrible truth. Amy turned deathly pale as she ran for the door, grabbing her cloak as an afterthought. “Amy, please wait,” he begged. “Let’s talk about this. I can explain.”
With her hand on the doorknob, she glared at him. Her eyes turned as cold as a high-country stream in spring. “How could you do such a thing? You knew how much Aunt Prudence meant to me!” Then she was gone with a resounding slam of the door.
John looked at Sally, who sat motionless at the table, mortified by what she had done.
“I kept your secret for as long as possible,” she whispered. “But I couldn’t allow her to believe—”
“Stop,” he pleaded. “You owe me no explanation. I’m the one who did wrong, not you.” He slumped into the chair recently occupied by Amy. “Because of my bullish inflexibility, I have ruined my life.”
Sally flinched from his assessment, her forehead creasing with worry. “Maybe not. Everyone makes mistakes, John. If you explained to her why you acted so, perhaps she’ll take pity on you.” Her grip on her coffee mug tightened.
“And say what? I had no rational excuse for my actions, only the desire to remove what I considered a bad influence from her life. That sounds nothing but mean.” He fought back self-indulgent tears. All his troubles, all his misery was his own fault.
“That might be true, but Amy has a generous heart. Maybe she’ll forgive you.” Sally hesitated and then reached out to pat his arm. “Worth a try, no?”
He nodded. “Worth everything in this world to me. If I die a lonely old man, at least I’ll know I tried to make amends.” He jumped up, grabbed his coat, and ran from the house. At the end of the driveway he scanned the road in both directions, calling Amy’s name. Then he swiftly searched the barn, workshop, and henhouse. Finally, he spotted a solitary female figure walking through the pasture. In the thin light of dawn, she moved like a specter as fog swirled and eddied around her legs. Her head was bent low as she watched the ground for hidden obstacles.
John ran pell-mell after her, heedless when a gust of wind blew his hat from his head. “Amy, wait up,” he called once he’d cut the distance between them by half.
Hearing her name, she picked up her skirt and ran. A split rail fence stopped her like a high stone wall. Just as she was ducking her head to climb through the rails, John reached her side.
“Please give me a minute of your time, even though I don’t deserve it.” He touched her arm.
She recoiled. Hurt, anger, and betrayal filled her glare. “Say your piece, John Detweiler, but be quick about it. And keep your hands to yourself.”
He stepped back a pace. “Regardless of what you decide to do, I want to say how truly sorry I am.”
“Sorry about what? That you got caught? I’ll bet so. If not for Sally, I never would have known of your deception.” She crossed her arms, erecting a hostile barrier between them.
How could he answer that? He had no idea if he would have someday confessed his guilt. “I knew the moment I burned Prudence’s letters it was wrong, that I was making a mistake—”
“Then why did you do it not once, but twice?”
“I was afraid of losing you.” He uttered the words so softly he didn’t know if she’d heard. “I feared that an independent woman like Prudence would advise you not to marry. At least, not marry me, a man without means to properly provide for a wife. With your share of the inheritance you could support yourself anywhere until a more suitable candidate came along. I’m sure your aunt wished she had never married Leon Hilty in haste.” John stared at wild morning glories, still clinging desperately to life despite several hard frosts.
“Candidate?” Amy spat out the word like tainted food. “You weren’t a name on an Englischer’s election ballot. You were the man I’d fallen in love with. I didn’t search for Aunt Prudence for relationship advice. I sought her for the comfort of family around me.” Her eyes grew moist and shiny. “You have Thomas and Sally—and even Elam, for that matter. As fond of them as I am, I still yearned for loved ones from home. Prudence was no threat to you. I certainly wouldn’t want to emulate her sorrowful life.”
“I realize that now and can only beg your forgiveness, Amy. I will regret what I’ve done till my dying day.” He rai
sed his head but the moment their eyes met, he knew his answer. There would be no mercy for his shameful behavior.
There would be no future for them.
She lifted her chin, creating a sharp, angular profile as she turned toward the fence. A black crow had perched on the top rail not far from where they stood. Superstitious people thought those birds carried spirits to the afterlife or were the harbingers of bad news. John thought this time those Englischers might be right.
“I may be able to forgive you, John,” she said, “but that’s as far as it goes. I have no faith that you won’t do such things down the road. And I won’t marry a man I cannot trust.”
Her words rang a death knell for his future. The crow issued an irritated caw, caw, took flight, and disappeared into the mist and fog. “You don’t love me anymore?” he asked. With shaking fingers, he caressed her cheek with his thumb. The bold act wasn’t born from hope, only from the desire to touch her sweet face one last time.
Amy brushed away his hand as though a mosquito on a warm summer day. “I won’t marry you, and love has nothing to do with it.” With that she walked away from him, down the slope, and out of his life.
John didn’t try to stop her or change her mind. He knew it was hopeless.
“Pride has ruined the lives of many good men.” The words of his long-dead father rang in his ears as though spoken yesterday. John had heard the warning many times but had never understood its meaning. After a horrible buggy accident took his parents away, he’d never been able to ask for an explanation.
Now he understood. Although he would be hard-pressed to call himself “a good man.”
Nora had a bad feeling when she awoke that morning, coming on the heels of one bad dream after another. Ah-choo! The sneeze brought her upright along with a full recollection of the previous night’s events. Ah-choo! She reached for a tissue from her nightstand. She shouldn’t have snapped at Amy when she tried to wake her earlier. The woman wanted to talk—a normal reaction after taking her side during the argument with John. How could Amy have known she had followed Elam Detweiler through rain, cold, and muddy fields on his late night escapade?
But it was worth catching a cold for it. She’d discovered Elam’s secret and formed a special bond with him.
Nora washed her face, pinned up her hair, and donned the plainest, drabbest dress she owned. She would need to wear sackcloth and ashes around John to make up for coming between him and his beloved Amy. Though it hadn’t been her intention, that had been the final result.
Halfway down the stairs she heard Aden let out a wail. Nora hurried back to his room and found him still prisoner in his crib with both rails up. Many times the boy climbed over the side, but today he stood there crying. “I’ll set you free.” Nora lifted him up and out, setting his bare feet on the floor.
“Norrah,” he said, hugging her around the knees. Then he padded out of the bedroom in search of his mother.
“Hold up there, young man,” she called in Deutsch, to no avail. Nora grabbed socks from his bureau drawer and followed after him. On her way to the kitchen, she heard Jeremiah crying in the living room portable crib. That sound meant a hungry boppli. She was no help there. Nora expected to run into Sally scurrying to her child. Instead, she found her staring out the window with her face pressed to the glass.
“Guder mariye,” greeted Nora, heading straight to the coffeepot. “I believe Jeremiah wishes for his breakfast.”
Sally glanced over her shoulder. “What? Oh, jah, of course.” But she took one more look at the backyard before leaving the window.
Her strange behavior sent a frisson of anxiety up Nora’s spine. Sally never was reluctant to tend her kinner. “What’s wrong? What has happened?”
In the doorway, Sally wrung her hands like an elderly woman. “Amy ran out of here furious with John. Then he took off after her. From what I can tell, they won’t be kissing and making up, as the Englischers say.” Sally shivered as though outdoors without a coat.
Nora felt her hunger pangs vanish. “Is this my doing? Is this because I forgot to cook supper? I thought Amy decided to smooth things over with him.”
Jeremiah’s wails grew more insistent. Sally looked torn between two pressing needs. “She came downstairs this morning aiming to do exactly that. But then…” Sally’s voice trailed off as she hurried from the room to her baby.
Nora set down her mug to follow her. She waited until Sally had Jeremiah nursing comfortably in the rocking chair and Aden playing with blocks at her feet. As Nora knelt to put on his little socks, she demanded, “What happened? Tell me the whole story.”
Sally closed her eyes and rocked. “I told Amy that I’d witnessed John burning Prudence’s letters in the stove when he thought no one was around. Amy was furious. I think she’ll break up with him now. The marriage will be canceled, and it’s my fault.”
“John burned Aunt Prudence’s letters?” Nora pressed her knuckles to her lips. “If she does break their engagement, it will be John’s doing, not yours.” Nora realized she took no pleasure from the possibility.
“I must stop eavesdropping and spying on people. No good can come from that.” Sally’s vehemence echoed off the polished wood floors.
“This has been a week for bad behavior,” mused Nora. She wandered from the room to give Sally privacy and took up her post at the kitchen window. As expected, Nora spotted the unhappy couple by the fence. Amy stood with her arms tightly crossed. That posture never boded well for the other person.
Backing away from the window, Nora reached for her cloak from a peg. She slipped out the side door and headed in the opposite direction from Amy and John, preferring to avoid either of them for the next several hours. Unfortunately, only selfish thoughts crept into her mind: If Amy and John part ways, Amy will return to Lancaster. And that means I must return with her. That was something she’d pledged never to do. For the past few weeks, she had worried about Thomas or John sending her back to grossmammi’s because her adjustment had been less than sufficient. Never in a million years had the idea of both King sisters boarding the train with their tails between their legs crossed her mind.
She had to think of something. There had to be a way—Ah-choo! An explosive sneeze caught her unaware and sent birds fleeing from overhead branches.
“God bless you,” called a voice. “Are you all right? A sneeze like that could burst a blood vessel.” Smirking, Elam stuck his head out from around the outdoor stall wall.
“I truly hope He does, because I can use all the blessings I can get today.” Nora walked to where her sole friend groomed his sleek stallion. “You know this nasty cold is your fault.” She dabbed her nose with a tissue.
His smirk broadened into a wide ear to ear grin. “Don’t dump this on me, my lovely Miss King. I didn’t tell you to tail me in the dead of night in the cold rain—without your galoshes, no less.” He added an aged, scratchy inflection to his last words. “Spies have only themselves to blame when plans go awry.” Elam patted the horse’s flank affectionately.
My lovely Miss King? Nora peered up into his dark eyes. “I suppose you’re right, but suffering a cold is preferable to dying of boredom on the Detweiler farm.”
His raucous laughter caused the horse to prance against the cross-ties. “Don’t get too close, Nora,” he warned. “There’s no telling what this feisty boy will do.” Wiping his hands on a rag, Elam stepped out of the stall. “Did chronic boredom send you searching for me two days in a row?” He shook his long hair from his eyes.
“Not exactly. John and Amy are fighting. I thought it best to stay out of their way, especially as I’m partially to blame for their disagreement.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Your sister seems very nice. My brother will never do better than her for a wife.” Elam leaned a shoulder against the barn wall.
“But Amy and John are only part of the reason I came outside.” Nora inhaled a breath of clean, cold air. “I was curious about something you said last night.”
“About my getting a driver’s license?”
“No, I understand why a man would want to learn to drive. I’m interested why you’re leaving.”
“For the same reason you followed me last night. Harmony is a tad too quiet for my taste. Besides, Thomas hasn’t given me much choice.” Elam pulled a half-smoked cigarette from his pocket to relight.
“What do you mean?” She inclined her head toward him.
Elam struck a match on the rough-sawn wood. “I have until Christmas to make up my mind—either join the Amish church or mosey on my way. I don’t think it’ll take me long to decide.” He exhaled the smoke in a series of tiny rings. “There are no jobs around, not until the spring anyway. I don’t relish another winter spent in Sally’s basement twiddling my thumbs. It’s time for me to move on. And I plan to pick someplace warmer.”
Nora tried not to reveal her excitement from his announcement. “Jah, that cellar must get depressing in cold weather. Tell me, Elam, where will you go?”
“I’ve tweaked your interest, no?” His dimples deepened as he smiled. “I’m going to Missouri where some relatives live—a couple of aunts and a whole bunch of cousins. It’s an Old Order community like this one, but, according to Sally, a lot less conservative than here.”
“Sally told you about her rumschpringe days in Missouri?” Nora couldn’t hide her surprise. “I thought she wasn’t very fond of you.”
“Jah, she actually liked me when I first moved in with them a couple of years ago. Now she’s bound and determined to become the perfect preacher’s wife, so I’ve become nothing but bad news.” He shrugged with nonchalance.
Nora scratched her chin. “She has been trying hard to live down her past.”
“And I’m eager to start living my future.” A gust of wind buffeted them from the south, and a hard rain began to fall. Elam turned his focus toward the sky. “You’d better head for the house, even if the squabble between Amy and John isn’t over. We’re in for a storm. This might turn to snow. After all, we are in Maine.” He winked an expressive brown eye.