Leah's Choice

by Marta Perry

  The back porch stretched the length of the building, and it seemed to be a repository for things no one had a use for at the moment. Cartons were piled against the wall, and beyond them metal folding chairs leaned against each other.

  To her right, someone had attempted to arrange a small sitting area, with a glass-topped table and a couple of benches. John brushed off the seats with the palm of his hand, and they sat down.

  She folded her hands and banished the intrusive memory of sitting on the back porch swing with Daniel. How to begin?

  “They’re all right, aren’t they?” The concern in his voice disarmed her. “The family.”

  “As far as I know.”

  “Did my parents change their minds? Do they want to see me?” He shot the question at her.

  “I’m afraid not. But—”

  He planted his hands on his knees as if to rise. “Then there’s nothing to talk about.”

  “There is.” She put out a hand to stop him. “Please, Johnny. Just listen to me for a few minutes.”

  His fingers clenched. Then he nodded, not looking at her.

  She took a breath. “It’s not that they don’t want to see you. You must know that.”

  “What difference does it make?” He looked at her, and she saw the flash of pain in his eyes. “They won’t. That’s the bottom line. They’re so tied up by the rules of the church that they won’t see their own son.”

  “You’re the one who left with hardly a word of explanation.” And with no hint of farewell for her. “Can’t you see how many people were hurt by that? If you wanted to really come back, we—they—would hold out their arms to you.”

  “Are you talking about my parents, Leah?” His voice went soft. “Or about you?”

  For a moment she couldn’t speak. She looked into his face and saw again the boy she’d loved—the boy whose leaving had broken her heart.

  She tried to rally her defenses. “This isn’t about me.”

  “Still determined to hide your emotions under that perfect Amish exterior? Can’t we talk honestly about it at least once?” He reached out impetuously to clasp her hand. “Maybe then we can be friends again.”

  She forced herself to take a deep breath. “The blame is not on one side or the other, I know that. We hurt each other.”

  His fingers tightened. “I left you. I promised to marry you, and then I left.”

  The words seemed to wrench open a hole in her heart. Could she, this once, accept the truth about herself?

  “And I promised to love you forever.” Tears stung her eyes. “But I couldn’t go with you. I was afraid.”

  There. That was the truth, as plainly as she knew how to speak it. She felt as if a brisk wind blew through the hole in her heart, chasing away the last shreds of guilt and bitterness.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice broke a little on the words, and all the pride seemed wiped out of him in the truth of the moment. “Maybe we were both too young.”

  “Ja. We were. I blamed you for a long time.” She looked at him steadily. “I blamed myself even longer.”

  It was an astonishing relief to say the words out loud to him after all this time.

  “I wish—” he began.

  “Don’t,” she said quickly. “I know you don’t regret leaving, no matter how hard it’s been.”

  “No. But I regret hurting people to do it.”

  She let the silence stretch between them for a moment. For the first time since his return, she felt comfortable with him.

  “Can we be friends again, Johnny?”

  He squeezed her hand. “Friends.”

  She nodded. “Then, as your friend, I’m here for Rachel. She wants to see you.”

  His eyes widened, as if he couldn’t believe what he heard. “She does? Really?”

  “Really.” She smiled, relieved. There could be no doubt about Johnny’s reaction to that.

  “I’ll go right now. I can leave for the day and drive over there—”

  “Wait.” She grasped his arm to stop him. “Not right away. She’ll meet you someplace. She asked me to arrange it.”

  She felt him stiffen, saw the softness leave his face. “You mean I’m not welcome at my own sister’s home. She wants to see me someplace where no one will know, as if I’m a criminal.”

  He was pulling away, and somehow she had to make him see what he was doing.

  “Don’t, Johnny. Don’t deny the very thing you want out of some foolish, worldly pride. Rachel loves you. She wants to see you again. That’s the only important thing, isn’t it?”

  For a moment it hung in the balance, and she held her breath. Then, a little shamefaced, he nodded.

  “You’re right.” He squeezed her hand tightly, and the bond between them ran so strong that it frightened her. “You set it up. I’ll be there.”

  “Those are nice, small stitches, Elizabeth. Your quilt is coming along already.”

  Elizabeth nodded, not looking up from the patch she was working on. Her brows were furrowed in concentration as she wielded the needle.

  Leah suppressed a sigh. She sat in her grossmutter’s chair, but she didn’t seem to have her gift for drawing out confidences. Elizabeth’s quilt might be progressing, but their relationship wasn’t.

  Should she be pushing more? She studied the little girl’s face, but it gave nothing away, and she feared probing might only make Elizabeth retreat further into her shell.

  Perhaps she should discuss it with Lydia again. Her books had been helpful, but talking it out would be even better.

  Better yet would be having Lydia counsel the child, but she had no hope that Daniel would agree to that.

  She frowned down at her own quilt patch. Her life seemed more like a crazy quilt lately than this neat geometric design. Trying to balance Elizabeth’s troubles, her apprehension over bringing Rachel and Johnny together, her tangled feelings for him, her growing closeness with Daniel . . . Maybe they all made some sort of pattern in God’s sight, but she couldn’t see it.

  Guide me, Father, she prayed as she set one tiny stitch after another. I don’t see my path clearly just now, and I need to know where You want me.

  Someone knocked at the front door of the daadi haus. Murmuring a silent Amen, she went to answer it.

  “Leah, you’re just the person I hoped to see.” Paula Schatz, the Mennonite woman who owned the bakery where Anna worked, peered past her. “Is your mother here?”

  “I’m sorry, but she had to go out—”

  “No, no, that’s good.”

  Paula thrust a paper bag with the bakery logo on it into Leah’s hands as she came in. With her graying hair pulled back into a bun under her prayer cap and her comfortable girth enveloped in a modest dress, she might have appeared Amish to an outsider.

  It was true enough that the Amish and the Mennonites were cousins in belief, so to speak, though sometimes their differences could be bitter. But she knew Paula nearly as well as she did her own church family.

  Paula chuckled. “Listen to me. I’m so distracted that I made it sound as if I didn’t want to see your dear mamm. Give her that from me—it’s some of my pumpernickel bread.”

  “She and Daadi will love it, for sure. But if you didn’t come to see Mamm—”

  Paula clasped her arm. “I thought I’d bring this problem to you, Leah. You’d be the one to handle it, and I didn’t want to put another burden on your mamm when she’s still recovering.”

  A problem with Anna, then. Leah’s heart sank. She’d just begun to feel as if things were getting back to normal between her and Anna.

  Paula caught sight of Elizabeth and blinked. “I’m sorry if I interrupted.”

  “This is my neighbor Elizabeth Glick. We’re making quilts together.”

  Elizabeth gave a polite nod, seeming to retreat a bit further into herself in the presence of the stranger.

  “I’m glad to meet you, Elizabeth.” Paula shot a glance at Leah. “Can we talk in private?”

  There was n
othing to be gained by putting it off, whatever it was. Leah nodded, gesturing toward the kitchen.

  “Just keep on with your stitching, Elizabeth. I need to talk with Mrs. Schatz for a few minutes.” She went into the kitchen with a silent prayer.

  “I’ll make a long story short,” Paula said, bracing her hands against the back of a kitchen chair. “Seeing as how you have a guest.”

  Her brown eyes twinkled with curiosity, and Leah knew she was aching to ask about her relationship with the Glick family. Paula, like everyone else in Pleasant Valley, took a deep interest in her neighbors.

  “Is there a problem with Anna?” Leah came out with the question before Paula could get sidetracked.

  “Now, Leah, you know how much I care about the girls I hire to work in the bakery.” Paula’s round face, seeming to be made for smiling, grew serious. “They’re like my own kin, they are, and I feel responsible for them.”

  “Ja, I know.” That was why Mamm and Daad had felt safe about Anna working there.

  “And I don’t want to be telling tales on any of my girls, no, I don’t.” Paula shoved her wire-rimmed glasses up her nose. “But I’m that worried about Anna that I had to talk to someone. ‘Teacher Leah’s the one,’ I said to myself. ‘If anyone can get through to Anna, it’ll be Leah.’”

  Paula couldn’t guess how wrong she was about that. Leah seemed to have no influence at all over her baby sister these days.

  “What has she done?” She braced herself for the answer.

  “Coming late. Leaving early. Not showing up at all sometimes. I tell you, Leah, I’m at my wit’s end with her.” She hesitated. “It’s not my business, but I’ve seen the boy who waits for her when she leaves—Englischer, he is, with a fancy red car.”

  Even though Paula herself drove a car, it was a sedate black sedan, with even the bumpers painted black.

  Leah let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She couldn’t even say she was surprised. “Have you spoken to her about it?”

  “I’ve tried to talk sense to her, but it’s done me no good at all. I might as well save my breath to cool my porridge. No, you’re the one to handle this.”

  “I’ll try.” Though she doubted that Anna would listen to her, either. “Thank you for coming to me, rather than Mamm. You’re a gut friend, for sure.”

  Paula patted her hand. “I do my best by those girls, but if ever I saw someone going near the edge, it’s Anna. Well, well, we do our best, but sometimes young people have to make their own mistakes.”

  She headed toward the front door, apparently satisfied that she’d said what was necessary. Leah trailed behind her, impelled by hospitality when she’d rather curl up and weep.

  “I’m grateful to you. I’ll do my best.”

  “I know you will.” Paula gave her a quick hug. “You’re a good, responsible girl, you are. Anna could stand to be a little more like you.”

  Leah managed a smile. “I don’t think she’d like hearing that.” Paula shook her head, chuckling a little as she went out. “No, I don’t suppose so. Mind, now, if she doesn’t straighten out soon, I’ll have to let her go. I wouldn’t want to put that burden on your mamm, either. It would worry her.”

  “It would.” Leah’s heart sank at the thought of Mamm’s reaction to that. She and Paula were old friends, and that would hurt her. Still, what else could Paula do? She had a business to run.

  Leah stood watching as Paula drove off, her mind searching for a way to reach Anna. Here was another errant patch for her imaginary crazy quilt, and it threatened to be the most difficult to deal with.

  But in the meantime, she was neglecting Elizabeth. She went to look over the child’s work before sitting down again.

  “Ser gut,” she said, picking up her own work. “I’m sorry about the interruption.”

  Elizabeth fixed her with an apprehensive gaze. “Is something wrong with your mamm?”

  Odd, that out of all she must have overheard, that was what she’d fix on. “Not exactly. Mrs. Schatz didn’t want to worry her just now, that’s all.”

  “Because she’s sick?”

  Obviously Elizabeth wasn’t going to be content with evasions. Maybe she was relating this to losing her own mother.

  “Mamm was very sick last year,” Leah said carefully, wanting to be honest without frightening the child. “She’s doing much better now, but we still try to keep her from being worried and upset, or from doing too much.”

  “Is she going to die?” Elizabeth’s lips trembled.

  Leah’s heart clenched. “Everyone will die sometime, but I think my mamm will be with us for a long time.”

  “My mamm died.”

  Was this the breakthrough she’d been looking for, coming at her from an unexpected source? She breathed a quick, silent prayer for guidance.

  “I know she did. I’m sorry. You must miss her an awful lot.”

  Elizabeth clenched the quilt patch tightly in her hands. Her face worked. “I was angry at my mamm.” Her mouth twisted. “And then she died.”

  Calm, be calm. Don’t overreact. “You got mad at her before she died. We all get mad at the people we love sometimes.”

  Elizabeth was shaking her head, her face contorted. Leah longed to put her arms around the child, to comfort her and tell her she didn’t have to talk about it. But talking about it might be the very thing that would help her heal.

  “It’s all right, Elizabeth,” she said softly. “You can tell me anything you want. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “I prayed to go home again.” She seemed to force the words out. “All the time after Mamm took us away, I prayed to go home. But I didn’t mean for her to die. I didn’t!” Elizabeth burst into tears.

  Now Leah did have to hold her. She scooped the child into her arms and settled in the rocking chair, holding her close.

  “Hush, hush, now. It’s all right. Really, it’s all right.” She smoothed her hair and stroked her back. “Elizabeth, your prayers didn’t bring about your mamm’s accident.”

  “But I prayed to go home.” A choked sob punctuated the words. “And after Mammi died, Daadi came to take us home.”

  Leah rocked back and forth, patting her, trying to find the right words to comfort her. The poor child, carrying a burden like this for months and not telling anyone.

  “I know it seems that way,” Leah said carefully. “But your mamm was in an accident because she drove a car when she’d been drinking. God didn’t make her do that. She decided to do that on her own.”

  Leah couldn’t guess what had led Ruth to the choices she’d made. She could only do her best to deal with the results.

  “Her accident was a terrible thing, but you weren’t to blame. It’s all right to be thankful that you were able to come home.”

  She felt some of the tension ease out of Elizabeth’s body. She seemed to relax against Leah’s shoulder, much as she’d done the night she’d burned her hand.

  But this was a much deeper, more painful hurt. A professional would know how to deal with it so much better than she did.

  Please, Lord. Help this dear child to understand. Take away her burden.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Leah said again, her words soft. “You weren’t to blame.”

  Elizabeth sighed, hiccoughing a little. “I didn’t want her to die. I just wanted to go home again.”

  “I know. I know. It’s all right. God has brought you home, where you belong.” She took a deep breath, praying she was saying the right thing. “Maybe you should tell your daadi what you told me. I know he’d want to help you feel better about it.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. I don’t want to say it again.”

  “Would it be okay with you if I told him?”

  At least Elizabeth didn’t refuse that entirely. “I . . . I don’t know. What if it makes him think I wanted Mammi to die?”

  “I promise you he wouldn’t think that.” She smoothed Elizabeth’s hair. “But I won’t say anything to him u
nless you tell me to. All right?”

  Elizabeth looked at her for a long moment, as if weighing her trustworthiness. Finally she nodded. “All right,” she said.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Leah was up before the sun the following day. She may as well be—she’d spent a mostly sleepless night with her mind bouncing between the revelation of Elizabeth’s feelings about her mother and the visit from Paula Schatz, with her concerns for Anna.

  She’d prayed, caught herself worrying, and prayed again.

  Why can’t I be confident in Your answers to my prayers, Father? I feel so torn. For years I felt so sure that I knew the right thing to do, and now everything seems to be a challenge.

  Maybe that was the point. Maybe God was reminding her that only through relying on Him would she find the right path.

  I can rely on You for myself, I think. It’s so much more difficult to relinquish control when it’s a child I love.

  Daniel had to know the anguish of guilt that had Elizabeth tied up in knots, but how could she break the child’s confidence? If she did, that could destroy any hope of a further relationship between them.

  And if she didn’t—she didn’t want to think about his reaction if she kept this from him.

  She couldn’t discuss this with anyone else, but she could talk to Lydia. If God had brought Lydia into her life for a reason, this might be it.

  And as for Anna—

  Sometime in the long night, she had come to a decision. She couldn’t deal with this situation on her own any longer. Trying to protect Mammi’s feelings was a good thing, but not at the cost of Anna’s future.

  She would talk to Daad about it. She went softly down the stairs, feeling her familiar way in the predawn darkness. Perhaps Mamm would never need to know how worrying Anna’s behavior had been. And if she did, Daadi would know the best way to bring it up.

  She went quietly out the back door and across the lawn toward the stable, the dew-wet grass dampening her sneakers. The eastern sky brightened already, and the world seemed hushed, as if it held its breath, waiting for the sun’s appearance.

  Daadi would be in the stable, feeding the horses, talking to them as he always did. She could have a few quiet moments alone with him before the rest of the house was up and busy.