by Tricia Goyer
She prayed for Marianna and Aaron, but as she thought of them she didn't know what to pray. Aaron seemed like such the perfect young man, but Marianna's letters of late had seemed discontent.
Lord, if he's not the man for her, please show my daughter. Ruth didn't know where that prayer came from, but it was something to consider. She'd been the one to invite Aaron Zook to come visit them . . . but she never thought it to be a matter of prayer. Until now.
In fact most things in life she'd never really considered praying about. They lived their lives devoted to God . . . so why had she never thought to talk to Him much?
Marianna entered the Troyers' home for church service and it seemed like just another day—similar to the ones growing up. The same homes, the same buggies, the same people. Only the children were different. As some grew, they begot others to take their places.
She entered with Levi and Naomi, and she couldn't help but notice eyes upon them, especially her. She was certain if she'd already been baptized that she'd have some confessing to do. Her lack of formal commitment to the church was the only thing that had kept an elder from visiting. Of course she'd have to get baptized before the wedding. She and Aaron had yet to set a date, so she still had time.
She entered through the front door. The members of the community sat in familiar places. They sang the songs she knew and read familiar Scripture verses.
When it was time to kneel, Marianna did so willingly. Her heart warmed in full surrender to God. In the aisle behind her a young mother directed her toddler, showing her how to fold her hands and lower her head. Marianna thought of her own children someday. She had this—this community, these people, this learned reverence to offer, but because of Ben's influence she also had so much more.
Marianna had seen by example how her parents attended church and devoted themselves to others. She'd attended many a barn raising and delivered a meal to a family in need, but until Ben, she hadn't been sure she knew how to follow God. She was thankful now she knew how to listen to Him through His Word and prayer, instead of coming up with her own ideas.
When the time of silent prayer was over, the congregation lifted from their knees and returned to their seats on the benches.
She thought of her friend Jenny in Montana. An ache settled on Marianna at the thought of Jenny's hard growing-up years. What she'd been given had been a gift—a loving family and home filled with care and tenderness, the knowledge of God, a community who'd watched out for her best interest.
She scanned the faces of those in her Amish community. Was it worth trying to share more with them? Maybe what they had was enough. After all, what they did have was a great treasure in each other and their simple faith.
The poems and lessons she'd learned through repetition would be there for life. She told herself she wasn't turning her back on those things, just adding to it what God intended to be added from the beginning, a personal relationship with Him.
After the service was over, Marianna moved to help the other women in the kitchen. Most were kind to her, but some kept their distance. It didn't bother her too much. Mem had gained back their trust, hadn't she? It would take time, but she'd be back in the community again.
Naomi moved around the kitchen with slow steps. More women ignored her—pregnant and not married. That wasn't something one saw every day at an Amish church service.
Naomi tried to brush off the stares as she cut slices of pie. What would happen if they knew that besides Naomi being pregnant, Levi was not the father? As Marianna set out jars of sweet pickles on the tall tables, she scanned the faces of the young men. . . was one of those the father? Could he be part of their community? Could he be in this room?
She looked from face to face—and then her gaze stopped on Aaron.
Marianna shook her head. She would not think of that as a possibility. Yes, Aaron and Naomi had gotten close for a time after she left. And yes, he admitted kissing Naomi. Still, he swore he hadn't done more.
As much as Marianna wished he hadn't kissed Naomi, hadn't grown closer to her than he should, she was thankful things had only gone as far as they had. But then, Aaron's character wouldn't allow more. Some young man didn't have values or willpower, but her Aaron did.
Yes, Aaron's character was sound. Marianna shook her head. She should just be thankful for that, and that things between him and Naomi had stopped at a kiss.
And that Aaron and Naomi weren't the ones committing their lives to each other this summer.
Chapter Thirteen
As the days grew hotter, and the baby's birth grew closer, Marianna decided to move from Aunt Ida's house and stay with Levi instead—to be there for Naomi. Today she'd talked Naomi into getting out for a while. They went to town for groceries, and Marianna told Naomi she'd treat her to lunch.
Growing up, days like this didn't happen often. Working at the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery, she met people who ate there nearly every day. She hadn't eaten in a restaurant since returning home, but had to admit she looked forward to it. But before they could relax and enjoy lunch, she had to get some shopping done.
Naomi was looking at the fabric next door, and Marianna volunteered to get the groceries. She glanced at her list—oh yes. She needed a bag of beans for tomorrow's supper. With quick steps she walked toward the bins of bulk goods. She heard a man clearing his throat and noticed a tall man walking down the next aisle.
With all that had been happening lately, she hadn't thought much of the Englisch driver—the man her mother had once loved. But there he was. He wore a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, and she placed a hand on the cream-colored metal shelf, touching a bag of lentils as if considering the price.
He was handsome, she had to admit, but still it seemed strange he'd once held her mother's affections. What was it that had made Mem decide on Dat instead? Was it the simple fact that Dat was Amish? Marianna had no doubt her mother had made the right choice, but how?
Over the months that she'd been back, she'd heard more about this driver—Mark Olsen. One woman said he was divorced. Another said he'd recently gotten out of jail. Many refused to hire him as a driver unless there were no other options.
Still, not every Englisch man is alike. She turned her back to the man and put two bags of beans into her shopping cart. Ben was Englisch, and he was different. She couldn't imagine him not following God, not pursuing what was right.
She finished getting everything she needed on that aisle. Would she be able to move to the next one over without being seen? No luck, she was exiting her aisle the same time Mark exited his. He slowed and glanced her direction. She turned away and moved toward the bin of oats, hoping he wouldn't follow. She let out a sigh of relief when he moved to the checkout counter instead.
Marianna's heart pounded in her chest as she realized that as soon as the baby was born, there'd be a wedding, and if there was a wedding, Dat and Mem would return.
What would happen if Mem happened to run into Mark? Or worse yet, what if he found her . . . making it clear what he'd already told Marianna—that he hadn't forgotten their love.
Marianna picked up a few more things. She watched Mark leave the store and then approached the front counter.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" She struggled to push thoughts of a meeting between her mother and Mark out of her mind.
"Uh, yeah. I guess so." The blonde woman's eyes widened. "I've always liked spring."
"Me, too. I'm glad to be able to hang my laundry outside, instead of around the woodstove." Marianna smiled. "I love getting dressed and smelling the sun on my garments, don't you?"
The woman nodded. She tilted her head and studied Marianna, a strange look in her eyes. It was then Marianna remembered: she wasn't in Montana! Conversations like these—between the Amish and Englisch—weren't done here.
Marianna paid for her items and then grabbed up her bags, started to leave—then stopped. Done or not, there was no call to be rude. She offered the woman a smile. "Have a nice day. And t
hank you for all your service. It's much appreciated."
The woman nodded and a responding smile filled her face. "Wow, thanks. I think you just made my day."
Naomi lifted the edge of a bolt of fabric and rubbed it between her fingers.
"It's microfleece." The storekeeper approached. "It's nice and soft but not too heavy. Perfect for a summer baby."
"Ja. I think I'll take two yards." Naomi pointed to a light blue fabric. "I've already made three baby blankets, but I'm sure one more won't hurt."
As the woman nodded and pulled the bolt of fabric from the store rack, the jingling of the bell on the store's glass door drew her attention. Naomi turned and her smile faded as Aaron walked in with Mrs. Zook. Instinctively, her hands went to her stomach. As if feeling her eyes upon him, Aaron lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers.
Mrs. Zook continued on to the back of the store, her eyes fixed on the clearance rack. Instead of following her, Aaron moved Naomi's direction. She turned back to the fabric, not knowing what else to do.
"Hi there." Aaron strode up and paused by her side. "Haven't seen you in a while."
"I saw you Sunday. At church." Naomi acted as if she was engrossed in a bright fabric of bunnies and ducks. "I served you pie."
"Ja, that's right."
They stood there in silence before Aaron took a step closer. "Did Levi bring you to town?"
Naomi shook her head. "No, Marianna did. You're marrying a good woman."
"I know. And where is Levi?"
"He's at work." Naomi looked around. "Shouldn't you be there too?"
He shrugged. "It's my mem's birthday. She asked I bring her to town and help her pick out fabric for a quilt."
"And she won't think anything of you talking to me?"
"No." He brushed his blond bangs from his forehead. "Why should she?"
The tension in Naomi's chest built, and she again considered running from the store. "So she doesn't know?"
"Know?"
"Ja, know that I'm carrying your child." The words slipped from her mouth more easily than she expected they would.
Aaron took two steps back, running into a rack of fabric and making a loud clang.
She turned to him, daring to fix her eyes on his. "Why, Aaron, are you acting surprised?"
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "And why are you acting as if I should know?"
"How could you not? You were always the expert at math. We were together . . . oh about nine months ago." She cocked one eyebrow. "Or did you forget?"
"Of course not." He turned away. "I just assumed . . ." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I assumed because you're marrying Levi that he was the father."
"I had no choice. I found out just days after you left for Montana."
"You should have at least told me." His voice lowered a notch.
Naomi sucked in a breath, holding it. Those moments with Aaron had been so special. He'd been so tender and caring. He'd helped her forget about Levi, and for a time she thought he truly did love her. As she walked around the house she imagined he'd built it for her. She tried to convince herself, as she was consumed by his kisses, that he'd forget Marianna. But that wasn't the case.
Pain stabbed her heart to see him. To look into his blue eyes. It was the same pain she felt the moment he told her he was going to Montana to see Marianna. She'd packed a lunch and had taken it over—any excuse to see him one more time. One more chance for him to choose her . . . but he'd walked away and boarded that train instead.
Naomi wiped her eyes, refusing to let one tear drop. She'd cried enough tears over Aaron. Thankfully, Levi had stepped up—had been the man she knew Aaron could never be.
"And would it have made any difference if I would have told you sooner?" Naomi crossed her arms over her chest. "You built a house for her, Aaron. You went to Montana to get her. You love her—" Her voice lowered to a whisper. "How could your child and I ever compete with that?"
Without another word she went to the cash register and paid for her fabric, and then she walked through the door without looking back.
There was no need.
No reason to let him see her tears.
After shopping, Marianna found Naomi waiting outside the grocery store with her bag of fabric. She had a distant look in her eyes . . . Probably because of the pregnancy. Marianna couldn't imagine the fatigue that must set in so close to the baby's due date.
After loading up their things in the buggy, Marianna led the way into the restaurant. Naomi followed, keeping pace right behind her. Marianna was sure if she stopped short Naomi would plow into her back. The young woman had seemed nervous from the moment Marianna had found her. She'd had a small purchase of fabric but told Marianna she would do more shopping at a later time.
Marianna saw a table open and sat down. What had gotten Naomi so bothered? Instead of asking, she told herself that all would be explained at the right time. Marianna didn't need to go poking and prodding for the truth like Aunt Ida learned to do so well.
"What are you doing?" Naomi leaned close to Marianna, but didn't sit in the empty chair.
Marianna peered up into Naomi's wide-eyed gaze. "What do you mean?"
"What are you doing sitting here, out in the open?" Naomi leaned closer. "In the middle of all the Englisch?"
Marianna looked around and for the first time noticed the glances. The prying eyes.
"I . . . I'm sorry." She stood and followed Naomi to a corner booth.
Naomi took the seat with her back to the rest of the restaurant, as if not seeing them would make the Englisch evaporate into thin air.
"You've changed, Mari." Naomi shook her head.
Marianna picked up her menu and flipped to the back page. "I don't know what you mean."
"Times past you'd never wanted to eat in a restaurant. We musta passed this place a hundred times and never'd come in. It's like . . ." Naomi paused placing a finger over her lips as if trying to keep the words tucked inside.
"Like what?" Marianna set down the menu. Her hands felt clammy and her hunger turned to dread.
"It's like you're one of them." Naomi cocked one eyebrow. "Levi left to live in the world a time and you'd never know it. He's come back and fits in just the same. But you . . ."
Marianna tilted her head. "Because I sat at a center table you think that?"
"Not so much. It's other things. I've seen you watching folks, studying the Amish like the tourists do. Like it's all new to you instead of how you've lived from the day you were born. Yer words are proper too—Englisch proper—and to hear you talk about God like you do. Talking like you know Him and speak with Him and telling others they should do the same. Well, it's different. We have our ways, Marianna. Faith is private. Only the prideful person would suggest how another should live."
Marianna leaned back, pressing her shoulders against the vinyl seat. She knew what Naomi was talking about—her suggestion to read her Bible and pray. She lowered her gaze and shook her head, whispering a quiet prayer for patience.
Wait.
Marianna knew the words she wanted to say, but also knew they'd bring about no good. Still, they replayed in her mind. I suggest you spend more time with God and you point a finger at my pride? You're carrying a child conceived outside the marriage bed and you accuse me?
She took in a deep breath then released it. "I'm sorry you feel that way." She didn't try to explain. Didn't try to defend. She knew that to do either would just help tip their already distant relationship.
Naomi nodded but didn't respond. Instead, she looked down at her growing stomach and placed a hand over it, spreading her fingers. Her eyes widened as if she felt the baby kick, but Marianna didn't ask if it did. As she watched the tender moment, a strange uneasiness washed over her. It was as if invisible hands had gripped her neck. Everything within her wished to push from the booth, to look away, to hurry away.
Why? Why do I feel this way? I should be happy. Levi's returned to the Amish. We'll have another me
mber to our fam—
She couldn't finish the thought. Her mind wouldn't go there. It couldn't go there. This baby—something to be celebrated—made the hairs on her arms stand on end. But why? Why did this feeling creep over her like hundreds of ants?
"Excuse me." Marianna placed the menu back on the table and slid from her seat. "It feels a little warm in here." She brushed a trembling hand across her forehead. "I think I need to splash some water on my face."
Naomi glanced up and nodded. "I hope you're not coming down with something."
Marianna swallowed down the emotion that was balling up in her throat. "Ja, me too."
She looked around and found the bathroom, hurrying toward it. Why had they'd stopped to eat? Suddenly the last thing she could do was enjoy lunch.
Her stomach turned, sickness overcoming her, and she hurried into the farthest stall closing it behind her. The air felt heavy and thick and she struggled for breath. Tears rimmed her eyes.
What's wrong with me?
She lowered the toilet seat and sat. Her knees quivered and she placed her face in her hands. A sob attempted to burst from her lips but she pushed it deeper inside.
The door to the bathroom opened and she heard footsteps. Every muscle froze. Wasn't there anywhere she could be alone with her thoughts?
"Did you see that?" A woman spoke. "Walking in with her chin held up like that. The nerve."
"You'd think she'd consider what she'd done and not act like she was living right."
"Her parents should talk to her."
"Ja, I do agree."
They continued on and Marianna held her breath, telling herself not to make the slightest noise. Not to give her presence away. Bad enough these women were talking about Naomi like this. It would be most awkward if they found her there!
The more they talked, the more she recognized their voices. Mrs. Klees and Mrs. John, who were part of their community,. Marianna didn't talk to them much but she saw them at church.
She pulled her feet back, tucking them to the sides of the toilet. Please, don't let them notice the door to the last stall is closed. As she listened, the queasy feeling she had a moment before evaporated like dew under the sun. Instead a new feeling rose up in her.