Beyond Hope's Valley: A Big Sky Novel

by Tricia Goyer

  Another reporter, a short woman with frizzy red hair raised her hand. Ben signaled to her.

  "Mr. Stone. I've been to Montana, to the area where you used to live, and since you're being honest I have to ask a question. Is the reason this woman isn't aware of your present circumstances because she's Amish?"

  All eyes turned his way, and the cameramen who'd started to put away their cameras pulled them out again. He sat a little straighter. How should he answer that question? He wasn't ashamed of the truth, but he didn't want any reporters to start snooping around West Kootenai.

  He rose, signaling to the officer that he was done. "No comment."

  "Thank you, Mr. Stone!" the woman called over the noise of the other reporters. "I believe you just answered my question."

  The police car drove Ben to the airport, and Ben noticed Roy standing next to the private jet. When the car stopped the officer opened the back door and let Ben out.

  "Mr. Stone, you're free to go."

  "Thanks." He stretched out his hand and shook the officer's hand. Then Ben turned and strode to the plane.

  The officer cleared his throat. "Uh, excuse me?"

  Ben paused and turned.

  The officer reached into his car and pulled out a CD and a pen. "Would you mind signing this for my daughter? Her name is Moriah."

  Ben reached for it. "This is a first."

  Roy was quiet, thoughtful until the plane took off. Then he leaned forward and a smile lit his face.

  "You hit it out of the park. The media is going nuts. We have a lineup of interviews planned. I thought we could set them up in Montana. They can get a view of the mountains—"

  "No. Roy, no." Ben held up his hands. "That's not going to work. I can't do that to my friends. That's the whole point. It's a quiet place."

  "Okay, well. We'll give you a week or so to relax, to settle down, maybe write a few songs and we can fly you—"

  "You're not getting it. I'm done. At least for a while." He pressed a hand to his forehead. "I need time to figure things out. I thought I needed to make a way to support a wife, but this . . . this isn't me."

  "You." Roy gritted his teeth and growled out the word. "I should have known. You messed things up last time. Why did I think things would be any different?"

  Ben didn't know what to say. He felt ten again, getting reprimanded for not getting good enough grades.

  "You have no idea what you're throwing away. You're at the top. You've got the attention of a nation . . . do you think you can just walk away? What do you think you're going to do now?"

  "I don't know. Maybe write a few songs. I haven't really thought about it."

  Roy threw up his hands. "Yeah, well have you thought about what this does to me—to my reputation? How am I going to explain?"

  "I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."

  Roy set his lips in a grim line. He grabbed a plastic water bottle and threw the cap across the cabin. Ben knew that if they were anyplace other than on an airplane Roy would have stalked off. But there was no place to go. It was still a four-hour flight to Glacier International Airport. So instead Roy just sat there, glaring at Ben—who'd never truly understood the cliché "If looks could kill" until this moment.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The spring air smelled of pine trees and sunshine, and Ben took a deep breath as he strode up the wooden-planked sidewalk to the West Kootenai store. Beyond the store a red barn sat in a green meadow. Beyond that, rolling hills covered with pines, and beyond that, jagged mountain peaks rose into the clear sky.

  "Home," he said to himself as he entered the store.

  "Ben!" Sarah waved from where she was stocking store shelves. He'd been back a few days and each time he entered the store he was greeted with a wave and smile. He liked that. His friends had asked little of his concert tour and had hardly mentioned his arrest and press conference. He liked that even better. To them he was Ben, their friend, not Ben the recording artist. And that's why he'd come home.

  If only . . .

  He shook his head, pushing thoughts of Marianna out of his mind.

  Ever since he'd gotten off the plane he'd been second-guessing his decision. Maybe because the messages on his phone and the e-mails hadn't stopped. Some for media interviews, others for private concerts. All offered to pay well, and as he'd looked around his small cabin, he dreamed of putting away more money for a nicer house. Besides, he didn't like the fact that Roy was hurting from his decision. He'd picked up the phone a few times to call and apologize—and maybe to work out a deal that would help them both—but each time there was a stirring inside that told him to wait.

  Lord, give me an answer. Show me the right way.

  He grabbed a handheld shopping cart and pulled his shopping list from his jean's pocket.

  The door opened behind him, the small bell jingled, and he turned. A stranger walked in—or was it a stranger? There was something familiar about him. Ben had seen the man before. A memory stirred.

  Yes. He knew him. The last time Ben had seen him was in L.A., when Ben was still in high school. Tyler Parison. He'd climbed Mt. Everest at age thirteen. The youngest person ever to do so. He'd written one best-selling book, and then another. By eighteen there were talks of a TV series. Then . . .

  Parison just disappeared. There'd been rumors that he'd moved to the northwest, but no one knew for sure where he was.

  Ben looked again. It was Parison all right. He was tall, but stoop-shouldered. His black hair touched his shoulders.

  A woman entered behind him, a baby on her hip. Another boy, who looked to be four or five, trailed them, carrying a stick.

  Ben smiled their direction as he pulled two cans of baked beans off the shelf and placed them in his shopping basket. The family made their way to the restaurant and settled around a booth. Their heads leaned over the menu as the small boy discussed an upcoming Easter egg hunt and the baby pulled napkins from the dispenser. They seemed like a regular family, nothing the media found interesting. Something stirred inside Ben—

  Envy.

  Not for all the guy had been, but that he'd had the guts to walk away.

  Is that Your answer, Lord?

  Annie approached. "Do you want to see something?" She patted Ben's shoulder. "I got a package in the mail."

  He nodded and set the basket on the counter. Then he followed her to the office, pausing just inside the doorway. A quilt lay on Annie's desk, draping over it, a covering of beauty. Blue, brown, gray, and green . . . the pattern was obvious. The layers of fabric displayed lakes and hills and mountain peaks. Beautiful.

  "It's Montana." She smiled.

  "That it is. Marianna?" His heart ached as he said her name.

  "Yes, she'd been promising to make me a quilt ever since . . ." Annie tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She didn't finish. She didn't need to.

  Ever since she gave the first quilt to me.

  He took another step forward and fingered the edge, appreciating her neat stitching. "She did an amazing job."

  "She always was a great worker. I miss her around here. She wasn't here for even a year, but Montana seems emptier without her." Annie walked to her desk chair and sat. She folded her hands and placed her elbows on the quilt, leaning forward.

  "You know, I need to apologize to you, Ben. I'm glad you're back. Saying what I said to you when you left, it wasn't right. It's been bugging me."

  Ben's eyebrows furrowed. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you mean."

  "You're being kind." She offered a sad smile. "I put my foot in my mouth when I told you to stay away from Marianna. I told you that pursing your interest in her would only hurt her, hurt her family. I thought that her being Amish and you . . . well, not Amish . . . that it would never work out."

  Ben nodded. Annie had been firm, speaking with conviction. He had taken her words to heart. "You were right."

  "Was I?" She shook her head. "I thought I was, but I was speaking outta turn." She rose and moved to the window,
crossing her arms over her chest and looking out to the potholed gravel parking area. "I had to be so firm with my words because I was afraid . . ."

  "For Marianna?"

  A long sigh escaped her lips. "Afraid for myself. My heart. The questions I was asking myself and didn't want to answer."

  "I'm sorry. You must be talking female or something. I don't understand."

  "I'm talking in circles, I know." The older woman turned back and looked at him. "I'm talking about my feelings for Ike. You don't get to be my age and single without doing a good job of pushing people out of your life. Oh, I'm all nice and dandy until I find myself attracted to someone. It scares me. I long for love but my fear of rejection and a broken heart is far stronger."

  "Okay, I get that. But what does it have to do with me? With Marianna?"

  "Don't you see, Ben? If you could fall in love with an Amish person and have everything turn out okay . . ." She swallow hard. "If you and Marianna worked things out. If you could figure out your relationship and live in harmony with the community—and with the blessing of God—then I wouldn't have any excuse. I'd have to open my heart to Ike. I had no right to tell you to walk away and let her be. That was my own fears talking. I hate to think that because of my words you could have missed out on the love of your life."

  "You think a little highly of yourself, don't you?" Ben chuckled and cocked an eyebrow. "The truth is you weren't just the only one who was telling me to slow down, to back away. God spoke the same to my heart and . . . well, as much as I respect you, Annie, He has a little more pull."

  She opened her arms and wrapped him up in a quick hug. "I was so worried I'd ruined everything. I tried to call your cell phone a few times when you were on the road, but I didn't want to bother you with the concerts and everything. But well, Ben, after hearing the song on the radio and realizing it was yours . . . and that you were talking about Marianna, I've felt just awful."

  "It wasn't just you, Annie, really it wasn't. God was getting His point across. He still is."

  "Is He still saying to stay away? To let her go?"

  "No." He sighed. "I feel Him telling me to be ready."

  "Ready to go to her?"

  Ben shrugged. "I'm not sure. I just figure that if God could create everything we see, then if He wants me to make a move—when He wants me to make a move—He's clever enough to figure out how to let me know."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ruth sat at the kitchen table. The children were in bed and a gas lamp hung over her, casting light around the room. Abe stared down at the letter from Levi, and a smile touched his lips. He must be reading about their new grandson—his chubby cheeks and light hair. Abe was looking forward to seeing the baby with his own eyes—almost as much as she was.

  It was only the second time she'd wished the Amish were allowed to take photographs. She would like to see Samuel's features, to see how similar he looked liked Levi when he was a babe. The other time she'd wished she'd had a photo had been after their daughters' deaths. If only she had one photo—just one to remember them by. Her memory was the only thing that held their captured smiles, and she hoped it never got to the place when those memories faded. The more the years passed, the more their faces had slipped away. And now there would be more changes.

  Ruth spread her hand over the table. They wouldn't be in Montana for much longer. After the news of Samuel's birth last month she'd been waiting to hear when Levi and Naomi would have their wedding. Their oldest son had written her to say they'd like to marry in two weeks, and was that too short of notice for them to come? The returning to Shipshewana wasn't the problem. The questions came with what to do with the house there—keep it or sell it?

  An even deeper problem . . . was Mark.

  Her stomach churned. She could try to avoid him, but the area wasn't that large. If they were there for any length of time she was sure they'd run in to each other. Could her heart handle it? She'd had a hard enough time over the years keeping the emotions at bay. What would she do when she stared into his face? Looked into his eyes?

  Ruth let out a sigh. "It seems that we should pack up as much as we can and bring it with us. I can't imagine us having Indiana as our home any more yet, don't you think?"

  "Is this what you want, Ruth, to return? To pack our things and come back to Montana for good?"

  Ruth picked up David's shirt from the table. He'd caught the sleeve on a tree branch. She pulled out thread and a needle to patch the hole.

  "Sometimes I miss the house." The softness of her voice surprised her. "There are memories there. The girls sitting at the kitchen table, sharing stories of silly things back and forth. Looking out the kitchen winda to see their trees growing and stretching into the sky."

  Abe nodded, and she could see a battle within his gaze. He had memories too. There were people in Indiana he cared for. He'd built that home, tilled the land. Yet his battle seemed to be for their family now. To plant them in a better place and show them a new way—a way Ruth still struggled to understand.

  "We came because of Levi choosing the way of the world . . ." Abe turned to the window and eyed the snow. "That's not the case any longer."

  "It would be good to be near Levi now. And Marianna." She bit her lip. "To see the grandbaby would be nice, but the boys seemed to be settled here. They have good friends and love the trees and mountains." But in truth, as she thought about returning, it wasn't the boys that worried her. They'd transition back soon enough. Instead . . .

  Ruth's head started to ache. There were so many voices in Indiana, each stating their opinions. There were so many eyes, watching her, watching Abe, watching her kids. Accountability was good, no doubt, but thinking of going back was like picking up a sack full of rocks she hadn't realized she'd been lugging around until she got to this mountainous place. Then one day, as she walked through the pines, she realized she was no longer carrying that burden.

  Abe nodded. "Ike said the owners will let us rent here as long as needed, and I would like to experience West Kootenai as summer nears."

  "Another year wouldn't bother me so, but if we think we'll be here at least that long, I would like my things. My fabric and patterns are back there. All my dishes and gardening supplies. I miss my own bed and some of my books. If we could afford it I would like to pack up and bring all of it."

  A smile slid onto Abe's face, and she realized they had their answer.

  He rose, took his jacket off the hook and slid it on, then put on his hat without a moment's hesitation. "I'll go call to Ike and see what he suggests. He talked before about finding a driver."

  She didn't say anything about Abe using a telephone. She just nodded and smiled.

  "Gut." Ruth rose and smoothed her skirt with her hands. And at this moment it felt as if her sturdy shoes walked on a floor of clouds.

  The truck pulled up and Ruth eyed the trailer on the back. It was bigger than she expected and she figured it was large enough to carry her things. What she didn't bring she could, of course, give to Marianna to start her own house.

  The door to the large brown truck opened and a sinking feeling settled in the pit of her gut to see Ben Stone climb from the driver's seat. Without calling out her typical welcome, she turned and stomped back into the house.

  "Abe!" Ruth hurried past Ellie, whose eyes were still filled with tears. Joy and the older boys were going with them, but the younger kids were staying with the Shelter family. It would be too much to care for the little ones while packing up the house too. "Abe!"

  She gripped the oak handrail and then hurried up the stairs, her heart pounding. She found him in their small closet, zipping up the suitcase with their things.

  "I'm here, Ruth. Don't know what you're all worked up about. It's a long drive yet and leaving on time isn't a problem when one's going to be riding for thirty hours."

  "I'm not going. We're not going." The words shot from her mouth.

  "Why's that?" He turned, his eyebrows v-ing. Though he asked a question, h
is words were more like a statement.

  "I cannot believe you did this. He cannot go. Ben Stone cannot go to Indiana."

  "Of course he can. He's been touring with his music, but he's back now—you knew that. Says he's always wanted to see Indiana, best part is he's not charging us. He even got a friend to loan him the truck and trailer for free."

  She clenched her teeth, attempting to hold back angry words, but they refused to be dammed. "I don't care if we have to pay twice the money. Ben cannot drive us."

  Abe took a step toward her. "And why is that?"

  "You know why."

  "Are you worried about our daughter, Ruth?"

  "Of course I am. This . . . seeing him . . . Ben being there can change things."

  "If Marianna loves Aaron and wants to marry him as she claims, we should have no worries. Besides, Ben's good company to talk to. More than once we've gotten together to discuss the Bible. He's been patient with all my questions."

  The angry feeling that had been rumbling inside Ruth calmed, but just slightly. "Abe Sommer, in all my years I'd not remembered once when you went to the bishop, asking questions about the Bible." She perched a hand on her hip.

  Abe rose, carrying the suitcase down the stairs. "That should tell you something, shouldn't it? Sometimes ya don't know how hungry you are till you see a man with a big ole' steak, mashed potatoes, and a generous piece of strawberry pie."

  Marianna tucked Samuel's blanket around him as they walked into Davis's Mercantile in Shipshewana. Levi and Naomi had some shopping to do in town and she'd asked to come along. With her Montana quilt finished and shipped to Annie, she needed to get fabric to start another. Naomi was buying groceries, and Marianna thought it would be easier for her to hold the baby while looking at fabric squares than for Naomi while loading up a grocery cart.

  Samuel's mouth was slightly open as he slept, and Marianna was sure she'd never seen such a precious face. She headed to her favorite store, A Stitch in Time, when she noticed Mrs. Zook exiting. The woman paused as she saw Marianna approached, and she tipped her lips up in a smile.