by Tricia Goyer
For as long as Ruth remembered she'd had an account at the store that had gotten them through lean winters. Dee was always good at providing them with credit until they could pay in the spring. Yet as she entered the store it wasn't Dee she saw first. But there . . . standing near the shopping carts . . .
Mark.
She paused in her steps, touching her kapp to make sure it was still in place. She looked over her shoulder before remembering Abe wasn't there to back her up.
"Hello, Ruth." He smiled. "I heard you were in town."
She nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. A buzzing filled her insides as if she'd just swallowed a beehive. "Ja, jest back for our son's wedding . . ." Ruth's quivering moved to her knees.
"You look the same, Ruth, as young and beautiful as your daughter Marianna."
She placed a hand on a shopping cart to steady herself. "I do not know how to answer that."
"You can say thank you."
Mark's eyes bore into her, and she did not like it one bit. He studied her as if he had a right to this—a right to her time, attention, heart. "It's foolishness, that's what it is. You have no right."
"So because you're a married woman I cannot tell you how beautiful you look? How I feel?"
An Englisch woman entered the store and hurried by, not giving them a fleeting glance.
Ruth turned her head, unable to look into the intensity of his gaze. His desire was clear. Mark had always been intense and clear about his feelings.
Her emotions swelled, but then the Scripture verses she'd read just this morning replayed in her mind. God loved her. His love was true. Abe loved her . . .
And then another verse came to her, one she'd read a while back. Seeing Mark her heart told her what it wanted, but what had that verse said? "The heart is deceitfully wicked." The thumped mass inside her chest was that, all right. It wanted to smile at Mark, to offer him a hug of greeting.
Dear Lord, help.
As soon she let loose the prayer, a response filled her mind. She motioned to a quiet corner just inside the store, and Mark followed her there, seemingly pleased she hadn't turned him away.
Ruth pressed her fingers to her temples and looked up into his face. "I need to tell you something. It's something you need to hear, Mark." His name was soft on her lips.
She blew out a slow breath and began. "One year my grandparents took me to the flea market in Shipshewana all by myself. I was so excited. Before we arrived they told me I could pick one special item jest for me. They believed I would choose a special treat, but my eyes focused on a beautiful china cup. I had to have it. They considered it an usual request, but they agreed. Looking back now, perhaps a part of me was tired of being plain. Even though I'm Amish I've always been drawn to beautiful things." She looked back at him. "And forbidden things."
Mark smiled at her words and took a step closer.
She held up her hand. "I'm not finished. I drank from my cup a few times, and once my sisters knocked it off the table. It dropped to the floor and a corner of it chipped. After that I was so fearful of it shattering, that I put it away. In my hope chest. And when I married Abe it was one of the things I moved into our new home.
"A few times over the years I considered pulling out my china cup, but I was afraid the kinder would break it."
Mark lifted one eyebrow, and Ruth could tell he wondered where this story was going. She set her chin, determined to finish her story in her own good time. "I came across that china cup today, when I was packing up my things. Nearly dropped it when I was sorting through my hope chest." She wrinkled her nose. "Funny thing, though, wouldn't have mattered none. You see, it weren't china at all but hard plastic. And the intricate flowers I admired so was a sticker decal."
She lifted her chin, and met his gaze without flinching. She kept her tone firm, but kind. Even hard words could be spoke with kindness. "That's what my feelings for you were, Mark. I thought for so long they were something to cherish, but this whole time they've been fake. Worthless."
Mark shifted side to side. She saw his neck turning red. This wasn't what he expected, wanted.
"Yer story doesn't make sense, Ruth, I saw something different in your eyes. When you looked at me, I saw you still cared."
"Of course. I will always care. You are a part of my youth, my past, but not my present. There are emotions there, ain't no denying that. They're emotions I tried to tuck away and protect like that china cup, but when I heard you were back, and I studied those feelings, I realized they're nothing but a fraud. My feelings of care fer you was mixed with my longing to leave behind my Amish ways. The motives were wrong for sure. I wanted to be loved, but what you offered was not love. It was unhealthy desire."
Even as she spoke, she felt the certainty within. This was truth. "I've found true love in my husband, Abe."
He flashed a scowl. "So that's it?"
"Well, ja."
He reached out a hand, touching her arm. She took a step back.
"Will you at least pray for me, Ruth? Pray I'll find a love like you have?"
"I wish I could, but that'll jest tie my heart to yours. Instead, when thoughts of you come up, I'll thank God. For the gift He has given me in my husband."
Mark ran a hand through his hair. "I'm uh, glad for you. For the life you have. I'm sorry to have bothered you." With that he turned and strode away.
Seeing him go, Ruth's stomach tingled as if she'd leapt off the top of the barn. She watched the back of Mark's head as he stalked off. Gray dulled his shiny black curls.
Footsteps approached from behind and she turned. Abe stood there.
He paused before her, looking down. "When I started for the bank something gave me pause. I felt drawn to turn around and head this way."
"I wasn't surprised to see Mark. He's one of the reasons I didn't want to come back here for long." Her voice trembled.
Abe stepped closer. Ruth tried to swallow but her throat was tight—as if a cob of corn was stuck in her windpipe.
"I know."
She stared at her husband. "You do?"
"I heard you, Ruth. All you said to him. I followed you inside—standing just over there—and heard every word." He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. From the look in his eyes he wanted to do more—to pull her into his embrace—but he resisted. She knew it was because they were in public.
"Remember that love letter you wrote to me on our first anniversary? The one that told me all the things you loved about me. The one that I still keep with my socks?"
She nodded. She'd done that after overhearing someone in church say how she'd written one for her husband. Heat rose to her cheeks.
"This"—he pointed to the doorway where Mark had just had exited—"this means even more than that. Telling him you loved me and had no interest in hurting our marriage meant more to me than any love letter."
She nodded. The deep love in Abe's gaze brought tears to her eyes. "It's true," she whispered.
"I know. I know something else too. We're not going to Montana to run away, Ruth. We're going to find what we've just had a glimpse of. A new relationship with God. A fresh start at our love. I can't wait for the next twenty-five years."
Abe covered Ruth's hand with a rough palm. It was the hand of a hardworking man—a man who gave everything for their family.
A man she loved with all her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Instead of having her things taken to Aaron's house, Marianna had them delivered to Levi and Naomi's place. It seemed silly to move things into the house Aaron built when the date for their wedding hadn't yet been set. They both agreed it would be better to wait for Levi and Naomi's big day. Then they would talk. Then they would plan . . .
In the other room Naomi sang to little Samuel as she gave him a bath. Marianna looked over the boxes of things she'd stacked around her small room. She looked again to the dusty box she had Ben pull from the top shelf. Were there any things inside that Mem could take back for E
llie and Joy? How special that would be to have her younger sisters playing with the same dolls she had as a child.
Marianna lifted out the dolls and noticed some worn journals underneath. Opening them up, she noticed her mother's handwriting. Marianna dropped down onto the bed, still staring at the words. A knot in her gut tightened. Should she read them?
Before she second-guessed herself, she skimmed over the page:
I had to get a new journal. Marilyn had scribbled on the old one and I couldn't write a word inside. I just broke out into tears crying every time I tried.
Abe went out and spent the evening in the barn again. It never used to take him two hours to muck the stalls. He came in smelling of the Lexol leather conditioner and Neatsfoot oil he used to care for the horses' harnesses. It's so lonesome here inside the house with the younger ones sleeping. I try to think of warm memories, but my mind soon wanders. I thought I'd caused Abe enough pain as it was, but now . . . the pain of losing the girls is unlike anything I've known. The worst part is we deal with it alone, each hiding away in our own thoughts.
There Mem had stopped. On the next page was a recipe for granola. And the page after that was a list of seeds Mem had wanted to buy for her spring garden. Marianna flipped through the rest of the pages and she noticed none of the rest were Mem's personal thoughts. There were cute things she and Levi said. There were more recipes and even a sketch of a quilt design.
What had made Mem stop?
Marianna thought about her own journals she left in Montana. Heat rose to her cheeks at the thought of anyone reading her words. She was thankful now Mem's journal hadn't shared more. Still, how had Mem and Dat made it through those hard times?
Taking a smaller box, Marianna pulled out the things for Ellie and Joy and carried them to the living room. Naomi sat there nursing Samuel. Levi was nowhere to be found.
"He's out in the barn," Naomi said, as if anticipating her question. Marianna nodded and headed out the front door. He'd been staying out there a lot.
As she entered, he tilted his chin to her as a welcome. Sitting on a milich bench, Levi turned the harness over in his hands studying the stitching, especially the stitches near the hardware. He took it apart next, undoing all the buckles, giving each piece a stress test, twisting it and turning it to see if it would break.
"Like father, like son." She sighed.
"What?"
She thought of her mother's journals but didn't want to tell Levi she'd read more than she should have. "Oh, I jest know Dat does that when he's tired or stressed. He gives all his harnesses the once-over. Stays out later in the barn than needs be."
His gaze narrowed. "Better to have a broken harness in your hands than one on your horse."
"Ja, of course, but I don't think it's your harness that's worrying you so."
She turned away from him. From the corner of her eye she watched him approach. He crooked his arm and caught Marianna with a soft elbow around her neck, pulling her into a gentle hug.
"Hey now." She tugged against his arm, pulling out of his embrace.
"How do you do that? I can't hide anything from you, can I?"
"I've learned to study you. Since I was small I could tell if you were the one who stole my cookies from my lunch pail." They stepped apart. "Something's bothering you. You want to talk about it?"
Levi put down his harness and let out a slow breath. "It seems natural a man should be doing a lot of thinking the week of his wedding. Especially . . ."
"Especially with the birth of Samuel and wonderings about . . . his father?"
Levi nodded. "I'm his father, but I know what you mean." He buckled the harness back up and then hung it on the correct hook. "I—I just consider marriage a big step. I just want to make sure she's the right one."
"Is she?"
A smile split Levi's face. "Ja, yes she is."
Bubbles bounced in Marianna's stomach and even though they were talking about him and Naomi she couldn't help but think of her and Aaron. "And how do you know this?"
"I know because I can't imagine her not being there when I have good news. I know because I look forward to seeing her smile. I know because the thought of her being with another man tears me in two. I want to be the one she wakes up to every day."
As he spoke those words, the barn around her faded to gray. Marianna knew . . . she knew deep down . . .
She'd made the wrong decision.
Marianna moved to the bench he'd been sitting on and sat, placing her hands on her knees.
Dear Lord, I haven't been truthful with myself, have I?
The problem was, truth—the truth hiding deep in her heart—would ruin everything.
Marianna walked from the barn to the house and noticed a car parked on the road close to the dawdi haus. Dusk had faded the world around her into muted colors. Yet it was light enough to see a young woman in Englisch dress waving at her. Marianna's mind was still foggy from her conversation with Levi and it took her a minute to realize it was Rebecca approaching.
Rebecca ran up wearing jeans and a pink T-shirt. She paused before Marianna. "Do you have plans today?" She smacked her bubble gum as she spoke.
"No, I don't think—"
"Good, then we're going somewhere." Rebecca tugged on her arm, leading her to the car.
"What are you talking about?"
"I know you and Ben haven't had a chance to talk much since he's been here. It seems that he was in town today, running an errand for your parents, and my boss, who is Ben's biggest fan, nearly fainted. She couldn't believe he was in Shipshewana or that he was friends with you. She demanded he come back tonight for a concert."
"A concert?" Marianna paused in her tracks, touching her kapp.
Rebecca blew out a sigh, held Marianna's arm firmer, and continued to the car.
"When are you going to remember you haven't been baptized yet? You can listen to music tonight. I insist. It's your Ben. I refuse to have you miss this."
Ben was already singing when they arrived. He wore a light blue T-shirt and sat in a chair in the center of the room. The tables had been pushed to the side and more chairs had been set up. People circled him in rings, like swirls around a cupcake. Someone had brought in a small sound system and he leaned forward into the mic. Her heart leapt as she listened to him. Heat rose up her neck and it was as though his voice embraced her. The music swelled and the emotion in her heart did too.
She hadn't realized how much she missed his voice until this moment. Tears flowed.
She tried to stay hidden in the back, but as Ben started to sing the song "Every Warm Cabin," she couldn't resist any longer. She had to leave. She couldn't sit and listen to this. She'd been a fool for trying to keep him at bay—for refusing the love he offered her, but there was nothing she could do about it. Her mother had been strong. She'd turned her back on the Englisch man she'd loved. Marianna told herself she could do the same. She had to do the same.
She rose and moved toward the restaurant door, when the guitar stopped.
"Marianna!"
Gasps carried across the room and whispers filled the space where his music had been a moment before.
"Is that her? The girl from the song?"
"How do they know each other?"
"Surely he isn't singing about an Amish woman."
She heard the scrape of a chair leg on the floor. He was rising, following her. She quickened her pace. Why had she come at all? She should have known hearing Ben's music—his voice—would stir her feelings.
Her hands pushed against the glass door. It opened and she hurried out to the sound of crickets meeting her ears.
"Marianna!"
She knew he wouldn't give up until he talked to her. Taking a deep breath, she allowed her steps to pause and turned around, staring into Ben's handsome face. She balled her hands into fists and all her love for God turned to anger.
How could You let this happen to me? Why did You have to bring him into my life?
"Thank you."
The whispered word slipped from Ben's lips.
Her chin quivered from his closeness. "For wh-what?"
Ben smiled. "You've been running from me all week. Thank you for stopping."
From over his shoulder she could see that all those who'd been listening to the concert had turned and were now watching them through the window.
"We have an audience," she whispered, pointing.
"I'm used to it."
"They're all going to know—"
"Know what? That you're the girl in the song?"
She nodded.
"I don't see a problem with that. Do you?"
Marianna crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her right foot on the sidewalk, trying to release some of her nervousness. "Well, I am promised to be married to an Amishman."
Ben shrugged. "That's not my fault. In fact if you'd like to we can go find Aaron." He pulled a set of keys from his pocket. "I have a rig. We can remedy that tonight."
He smiled again and seeing that smile was like a punch to the gut. Her toe tapping stopped and instead she stomped her foot, blowing out her frustration in a quick breath. "Do you think this is a joke? Do you not realize this is my life? This is my town, Ben, and you've made a spectacle of me. Do you not think it will get back to my parents—and the church—how you ran out after me? Aaron's going to find out and his family too. That's the family I'm supposed to be a part of soon. They're going to hear. They're going to know . . ." She lowered her head and placed her hands over her face.
"I'm sorry. I—"
"You're sorry that you weren't thinking? Is that what you were going to say?" She turned her back on the fans staring out the window. Turning her back on him.
"Why did you come here, Ben? Why do you have to make things so hard?"
"Things wouldn't be hard if you didn't have feelings for me. You do have feelings for me, don't you, Marianna?" He placed a soft hand on her shoulder.
She jerked her shoulder away, refusing to answer. Refusing to even consider . . .
Ben cleared his throat. "I know this isn't the place or the time, so I'll let you keep walking, but I want you to know that I've waited . . . and I'll keep waiting. Until you make a vow to another I'm not going to give up hope."