by Tricia Goyer
"Look at you, Marianna. It's been so long." She stretched out her hand and gripped Marianna's shoulder. "You shouldn't keep yourself a stranger. We are going to be family soon and all."
"Ja."
The woman didn't even cast a glance at the baby.
"I've jest been helping out my brother and Naomi. Little Samuel here has been most gut, but he's had colic some. It's amazing how someone so little takes up so much time. But I'll talk to Aaron when I see him. Should be coming over tonight." She rocked the baby as she talked. "It's been since Christmas from when I've been over and I agree that's far too long."
"Ja, gut." Mrs. Zook looked down at the baby. "Tell your brother I offer congratulations?"
"I will—" Music flowing through the store caught Marianna's attention. Her stomach fell and her knees softened. She straightened her shoulders, trying not to give away the lightness flooding her.
It was Ben's voice! She was certain it was his. She'd know it anywhere. "It was gut seeing you. I need to pick up some things." Without waiting for Mrs. Zook to respond, Marianna hurried to the back of the store and cocked her head to listen.
Your gray eyes a'dreamin', your smile so warm
could melt all the ice from the cold winter's storm,
And by the March thaw, my soul came to life
When I asked gray-eyed girl to be called my wife.
You settled my heart, you warmed up my life
The day you agreed to be called my wife.
You said:
We're nothing alone, We're everything together
Aches all fade when someone helps you weather
The hard times,
I'll enter your heart, I'll enter your life
Every warm cabin,
Needs a good wife
Her heart did a double-beat. First to hear his voice—to hear Ben's voice all the way in Shipshewana, Indiana—and then to hear him sing about a gray-eyed girl . . . was it possible? Could he be singing about her?
"So you like this song too?" The sale clerk neared, pointing to the speaker from where the music flowed.
Marianna readjusted the baby in her arms. "Ja, uh, it's nice. It's the first time I've heard it." She patted her kapp. "I don't take to listening to much music, you know."
"No, of course," the woman clucked her tongue. "Oh, it's been popular for months. He was supposed to do a concert in South Bend next month but it was cancelled."
"He?"
"The singer, Ben Stone."
Hearing his name, heat rose to her cheeks, and she hoped the woman didn't notice. What would the woman think if she were to tell her that she knew Ben—knew him well. In fact, she believed the song was written about her. She shook her head. The woman wouldn't believe her at all. That someone like him could have ever cared for someone like her.
"So, is he going to reschedule?" Marianna tried to keep her voice nonchalant.
"Doubt it." The woman puckered her lips. "He was in jail last I heard. Something to do with killing a friend." The woman shrugged. "I don't keep up with all those entertainers, but a story like that is hard to miss."
Chapter Twenty
With wide strokes of the broom Marianna swept Aunt Ida's barn. She'd already done the evening chores and was taking her time waiting for Aaron to show up. Aunt Ida had invited them both over for dessert—the first time since the baby was born. Her aunt was sure to have an opinion on all that was happening with Levi and Naomi and their upcoming wedding. Marianna just wanted to make sure she had Aaron by her side when she talked to her aunt. She needed his stability. His presence.
The barn door opened and Aaron stepped through. His eyes fell on hers and in four long strides he was there, sweeping her up in an embrace, pulling her close.
Since hearing Ben's song in the radio she'd been wound up like Aunt Ida's alarm clock, but at the warmth of Aaron's arms, Marianna melted into his embrace.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingertips finding the soft skin between his hair and his shirt collar. She spread open her hands and her palms stroked his shoulder blades and down his arms' tense muscles. His strength overwhelmed her. She needed Aaron's strength right now.
What had the woman meant when she said Ben had been arrested for killing a friend? Surely the woman had been mistaken. Surely it was another singer . . .
Aaron held her as she clung to him, and then he pulled his head back, trying to look at her face. "You doing all right, Mari?"
"Shhh . . ." She snuggled her head into his neck.
"Marianna?"
"I'm all right. I jest missed you that's all."
He held her and she pressed her cheek against his chest. She closed her eyes and told herself to remember this—to hold fast to the feeling of being in Aaron's arms without the questions and concerns of the world pressing in on her.
He pulled back. "So did your parents get off all right?"
She nodded and took a step back. "My uncle Ike called one of Levi's Englisch friends and told him to give us the message. They're coming with a driver to pack up all their things."
"Are you okay with that?" Concern filled Aaron's gaze.
"Ja, I believe I am. It's the right decision for the family, although I wish Dat would let Levi and Naomi have our home here. It would be gut for their growing family."
Aaron's hands released from around her waist. "Ja, too bad." He lowered his head and looked away. "Maybe Levi will have to work hard to build her a home like I built yours. I didna have my father give me a home."
She pulled back and studied his face. There was something behind that statement she couldn't understand. Pride in his own efforts? Disapproval over her brother's decisions?
"Well"—he smiled—"we better get inside, don't you think?"
She nodded, but inwardly cringed. For the first time, Aaron reminded her of his mother. Not so much his words, but the accusation behind them. And as she thought about that, she knew she'd heard such a tone from him before. Not so blatant, but there all the same.
Marianna shuddered and couldn't help wondering . . .
How long would it be until such words were aimed at her?
Marianna had only heard Ben's song once, but she had a hard time shaking the words—his voice—from her mind. The next morning, after helping Naomi with her chores, Marianna headed over to visit her friend Rebecca. Though Rebecca still lived with her parents, she was still set on leaving the Amish. If anyone would understand Marianna's torn emotions, Rebecca would. They packed a small picnic and walked to the creek they'd often visited as children.
They sat underneath a shady tree and new life sprouted up in every direction. Above, two birds chattered and sang and Marianna couldn't help but smile at the gift of bird song.
Yet even though the day was beautiful, Rebecca looked thin, pale. She shivered and scooted so she could have more of the sun's warmth upon her. The slight tremble reminded Marianna of snow upon tree branches in Montana, quivering on a windy day.
Marianna pulled a sandwich wrapped in wax paper out of their brown paper sack and glanced at her friend. "Can I tell you a secret?"
Rebecca's head tipped up and a slight smile lifted her lips. "Ja, especially if it's about a certain boy."
"Well . . ." Heat rose to Marianna's cheeks. "Ja. It is. I heard something yesterday . . ."
Rebecca gave her her full attention. "Jest looking at your face, Mari, I can tell you're in love. It's what you always hoped, isn't it . . . those feeling all stirred up inside? The knowing of your care for him."
"Yes, well, I didn't know what to expect. And it's not appreciated. I mean, I shouldn't let my feelings be running away like this."
"Not appreciated? You have what you always wanted, who you always wanted. You focused on getting the best, Marianna, and Aaron's that."
Aaron. Marianna nodded. Then, like a knife piercing her between the shoulder blades, she knew she couldn't tell Rebecca that she'd been thinking about Ben.
That had to remain her secret.
&n
bsp; Marianna nodded. "He is, isn't he? Everyone in this community respects Aaron."
"So . . . Rebecca scooted nearer. Her eyes sparkled as if a warm candle burned in her gaze. "The secret?"
"The secret." Marianna clasped her hands together. "Um . . . Her mind moved from the memory of holding Ben's guitar to the kind way Aaron had cared for her siblings. Aaron was a good man. "I was just going to say I having a feeling my brothers are going to be more excited about seeing Aaron than me. They got along well when Aaron was in Montana." She blew out a soft breath.
"I doubt that." Rebecca scowled. It was clear she'd been hoping for juicier news. "Ja, well, your parents should be coming back soon, right? Then you'll all be together again."
Marianna nodded, but deep down she had a feeling that wasn't going to be the case. How could she explain that things wouldn't be easy here in Indiana? Yes, she'd see them again, but how would Mem would deal with Mark being so close? How would both her parents face leaving their home?
"Ja, they should be here tomorrow, jest in time to rest before getting up for church service on Sunday."
"Wait, tomorrow's Saturday?" Rebecca sat up. "That means today's Friday?"
Marianna nodded.
"I thought it was Thursday. I have to work today." Rebecca rose and brushed dirt off her skirt. "I'm sorry, Marianna." She called back over her shoulder as she hurried to her house. "We'll have to do this again, soon!"
"We will!" Marianna called after her. And as she settled back into the grass she realized she was alone. She could use this time to think, to pray. To seek God on things that mattered most to her heart.
Marianna sat near the creek for hours. What a gift. One she hadn't expected. For most of her life she wouldn't have imagined spending a day like this. "Idleness is the devil's worship," Mem had said nearly every day of her life. Her father often joined in, declaring from the very first book of the Bible God told them to work by the sweat of the brow to produce food. She knew her neighbors mistrusted a soft and leisurely life and wanted to keep their children from being lazy, but wasn't there a balance? The Bible talked about Jesus going away to pray and David writing hymns on the hillside. As she sat there, a hymn she knew from childhood rose in her heart.
"Wo ist Jesus, mein Verlangen, mein geliebter Herr und Freund?" Where is Jesus whom I long for, my beloved Lord and friend?
Here, her heart told her.
She didn't have her Bible with her, but she played over in mind the special verses she had memorized. She prayed for Aaron, for Ben, for her parents, especially Mem. She prayed that God would break the bonds that remained where they shouldn't be, and strengthen the relationships that should be strengthened.
As she prepared to leave, she thought about what Aaron would say if he knew she'd spent most of the day idle. She considered what Ben would think too—and that brought a smile.
He'd be proud of her. He knew well that idleness with God performed more in one's soul than a week's worth of busy work.
Golden sunlight stretched over the Indiana cornfield as she walked back. Well, at least it would be a cornfield soon. Now it was only dark rich soil. She picked up a clump of dirt and it crumbled in her fingers. Within days a team of horses would be in the fields, breaking up the soil. It amazed her how, if one added too much water, they'd get mud, but with the right amount of light and water and seed, life would burst forth—nourishment. How was it possible one small seed could produce a plant that stretched its arms to the sky?
She wished she'd thought of the power of the seed before she spent time with Ben in Montana. The seed of attraction for him had been planted the moment he helped Ellie get her coloring book out of the puddle with such care.
A laugh slipped through her lips. Ben had talked so sweetly to Ellie not understanding she only understood Pennsylvania Dutch. Was that only a year ago? It seemed like much longer. In fact, it was hard to realize that Ben hadn't always been a part of her life. Her care for him was tucked away in a special part of her heart.
But should it be? Maybe she would have to find a spade to dig it out. Doing so would hurt . . . and that realization helped her to understand her mother even more. And as she walked back to Levi's place, she prayed that God would do some digging in her mother's heart as well as hers.
The trip took longer than expected. A flat tire in Fargo and a touch of food poisoning for Abe through Minnesota slowed them down. They arrived in Shipshewana just as church was being let out. It was being held this week at the Studers' place, which was right next door to the Sommer house.
Ben parked the large truck and trailer out front, and the older boys jumped out and headed to the creek, memories propelling their every step. Ben eyed the large white farmhouse. A porch wrapped around the front. The wooden steps were worn and slightly sagged. The green paint on the porch was worn off on the path to the front door, and he tried to picture the many feet that had journeyed over the spot through the years. Marianna's home.
Mr. and Mrs. Sommer—with baby Joy on her hip—didn't waste a moment heading down the road to see their friends. Ben stood by the truck. Should he follow?
Just as he decided to wait it out, Mr. Sommer turned and motioned to him. "You're welcome to join us. They always have sandwiches after service if you're hungry."
His stomach rumbled, and he walked after them with cautious steps. He'd never been invited to an Amish service back in Montana and he guessed having an Englischer show up for their lunch wasn't common here, either.
As he approached the yard, Ben looked at the people gathered—a sea of women wearing dark dresses, perfectly pressed. The men wore cotton shirts, suspenders, and straw hats with wide brims. These people seemed more proper, for lack of a better word, than the Montana Amish, like they'd all spiffed up for a funeral. Their eyes studied him and there were only a few smiles. Funny how he felt comfortable singing in front of tens of thousands of people, but his nerves got to him in front of a hundred plain folks.
Ben ran a finger under the collar of his shirt, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He stepped a little closer to Mrs. Sommer, as if she were his shield of protection from the prying eyes.
An older woman approached Ruth, a smile spreading on her face. "It's wunderbaar gut to have you back, but I wished it were for good."
"I know, Ida, but just cause we're going now doesn't mean we'll never be back." Mrs. Sommer looked over the woman's shoulder, scanning the faces. "I do appreciate you caring for Marianna. Did she come today?"
Marianna. At the mention of her name Ben's heart jump-started as if it had been beating at half pace all these months.
"Ne, I'm sorry." Ida shook her head. "Poor little Samuel had a fever last night and she stayed to help Naomi with his care."
Ben hung around a while until Mrs. Sommer approached. "You can head back to the house if you'd like. The renters are out and the house is unlocked."
He nodded and walked back up the gravel road. Had Mrs. Sommer sent him back because of his discomfort—or that of her friends and neighbors?
He walked up the steps, the weight of his thoughts slowing his movements. He'd been to the Sommers' house in Montana many times, and it felt strange to realize this had been their home for so many years.
Inside, the whitewashed walls were bare. The door opened into a large common room with the kitchen on one side and the living room on the other. A simple table, with benches running down each side, spanned the two rooms. Ben pressed his lips together as he imagined Marianna sitting there, serving her brothers and sisters. A gas lantern hung over the kitchen sink, and two more were placed around the living room. The couch looked as if it had seen better years, but a brown recliner near the front window appeared almost new. Ben guessed it belonged to the newly married couple who was renting the place.
"It's a beautiful home, a perfect place to raise children."
Ben turned at Mrs. Sommer's voice. She'd followed him in when he was unaware. Mr. Sommer stood there too.
"It seems
strange being back. So many memories. Of rocking my babies by the woodstove during cold winter nights." She spoke to Abe more than Ben, and a knowing look passed between husband and wife.
"It was God's will, Ruth." Abe placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, and Ben understood they were talking about the two daughters they'd lost. Ben stepped back, feeling as if he was interrupting a private moment.
He turned back to the front door. "I'll go open up the trailer and you can let me know what needs to be loaded in. There's a few hours of sunlight still and we can get some big stuff loaded up." Without a response he took two long steps to the door and then stopped short. A slim Amish woman stood in the doorway, the sun streaming in behind her made her kapp glow on her head. He didn't recognize her at first—until she spoke.
"Ben?" Marianna's voice was no more than a whisper. "Is that you?"
His heart hammered to the ceiling and back as her voice danced like music to his ears. A thousand words filled his mind—things he wanted to ask her. Things he wanted to tell her. He balled his fists and urged his feet to stay planted. He wanted to hurry toward her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her not a day passed that he didn't think of her.
But instead, he just brushed his hair back from his forehead and smiled. "Yes, Marianna, it's me. It's really me."
Tears sprang to Marianna's eyes, and she didn't know why. She bit her lip and held the tears back, staring at the man she'd been wondering about for so long.
Ben's hair was longer than when she'd last seen him, but he was so much more handsome than she remembered. Her stomach danced, and her chest grew warm, as if all the sunlight streaming through the doorway behind her pooled right inside her heart.