The Promise of an Angel (A Heaven On Earth 1)

by Ruth Reid

  He sighed. “I wish I could see your expression.”

  Judith swallowed. If the darkness hadn’t masked her face, he would see the truth. The ugly, sinful truth. She was jealous of her sister. Any unmarried man in the settlement would line his buggy up to drive her home from singing. Martha’s smooth skin and long dark lashes made Judith feel plain. And clearly Martha already knew how to gain male attention.

  Judith tipped her face higher and changed the subject. “Did you see the Englisch man today? I followed him into the apple orchard.”

  “Nett so.”

  “He disappeared into the fog.”

  Levi chuckled. “There was no fog in the air today.” He moved closer, touched the dangling tie-string of her prayer kapp, and slid his fingers between the strings to the ends. “God doesn’t want you to tell stories,” he said while tying the ends into a bow under her chin.

  Judith untied the head covering. “I saw a man.”

  He reached for the bottom of the string.

  She tilted her face downward and waited, sure he would again silently remind her that lies were sin by retying her kapp. Instead, he coiled the string around his finger.

  “How many children do you want?” he asked. “A dozen?”

  “More.”

  Her quick reply stopped his coiling midway up the string. Neither spoke. If they were courting, such a personal question wouldn’t sound odd. Still, his asking about her future was a pleasant surprise.

  He continued to gather the string around his finger. “More than a dozen?” he asked, unguarded confidence in his playful tone. He released the string and tipped her chin upward. “Do I have to wait until you’re nineteen meiya to kiss you?”

  Patches of moonlight spread through the maple tree’s leaves, spotlighting his wide smile. She couldn’t answer without first catching her breath.

  But Levi didn’t wait. Before she blinked, he’d kissed her. Although it ended much quicker than she’d dreamt her first kiss would, her heart clapped all the same. Even the leaves overhead, unsettled by a swift breeze, seemed to applaud.

  “I want more than a dozen too.”

  “Why do you tell me that?”

  He ground his boot into the dirt like an unsteady horse. “If you’d learn how to kiss, you’d be closer to making your dream come true.”

  Resentfully she moved away from the tree. “You’re comparing me to those Englisch girls I hear you’ve kissed during your rumschpringe.”

  He not only didn’t deny her accusations, he didn’t even hang his head in shame. Instead, he smirked.

  “I intend that my husband teach me the ways of kissing.” She turned. “I have to go.”

  He clutched her wrist. “Those girls didn’t mean anything.”

  Judith inhaled a sharp breath. He kissed girls without it meaning anything? Why did he kiss them, then? And of greater importance, why had he kissed her?

  He drew her close. “My rumschpringe is over. I want to—”

  “Levi?” Andrew stood at the edge of the path with a lantern held high in the air.

  “I have to go. Andrew’s giving me a ride home.” He leaned forward, but instead of kissing her again, he tugged the string of her prayer kapp and tromped off.

  Andrew climbed into the buggy and waited for Levi to come out from the woods. He would give his younger cousin a few more minutes, but he didn’t intend to wait half the night. Levi would have to walk if he lingered much longer. Andrew had his own chores to do, and he’d promised to return in the morning to do the Fischers’ milking. He would do more if it released the burled knot that had formed in his stomach after Samuel’s accident. He should have never given the boy the nail.

  Ich didn’t have time to eat.” Levi climbed inside the buggy. “And you have poor timing.” He plopped down on the bench and folded his arms.

  Andrew didn’t dare imagine what that meant. Something told him the comment had nothing to do with missing his meal. At twenty years of age, his cousin had much to work out with the Lord prior to gaining church approval. Not that Levi had requested baptism. But certainly he had to make the commitment someday soon.

  Andrew caught sight of a form moving from the wooded area over the moonlit lawn. “You left Judith alone in the woods?”

  “At the edge.”

  Andrew shook his head. “I’ll wait if you want to walk her to the door.”

  Levi didn’t budge from the seat. He motioned toward Judith. “She’s in the yard nau.”

  “You don’t know how to treat a woman, do you?” Andrew waited until Judith reached the porch, then tapped Patsy with the reins.

  “No lectures, Bishop Junior.” Levi laughed. “Besides, how much practice have you had?”

  His cousin had a point. Compared to Levi, Andrew had no experience with women. The friendship he’d shared with Esther would have matured into marriage had she not died. Had his heart not died with hers.

  Levi elbowed him. “You should’ve used your time before baptism more wisely.”

  “Wise is not sampling women like a new flavor of ice cream.” Andrew clicked his tongue, encouraging Patsy into a faster trot. There wasn’t anything wise about the wayward decisions his cousin made, but Andrew dared not discuss them for fear of passing judgment.

  He pulled back on the reins once they neared Levi’s house, and Pasty slowed her pace until they were in the drive. “I would think with Judith turning nineteen, you’re ready for a serious commitment.”

  “She’s shiklich, saund, and”—Levi stepped out of the buggy, chuckling—“not fun. Jah, I suppose I will marry her.”

  “You don’t sound all that sure it’s a gut idea.”

  “Jah.” Levi grinned. “Let’s just say, there’s a distracting reason not to be baptized yet.”

  Fire.

  Judith pushed away from the kitchen window and rushed to the door. “The barn’s on fire! Get the others!” She sprinted toward the glowing structure, her mind whirling. The calves, horses . . . Rusty . . . she had to save Samuel’s horse.

  Inside, Judith skidded across the straw on the floor to a stop. Behind her the wooden door slammed closed.

  The barn was illuminated, but not from a fire.

  It was him.

  The Englischer she had seen at Samuel’s side. An unearthly glow hung suspended around the stranger. The blinding light was more than she could look upon, and Judith lifted her arm, hiding her face in the crook of her elbow.

  The barn filled with rich voices chanting, “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty.”

  Still Judith didn’t dare open her eyes, and she sank to her knees.

  The chanting stopped.

  “Everything is possible for those who believe,” said a deep baritone voice.

  Fully aware of the trance suspending her, Judith remained silent. Deep within, every fiber of her being trembled. She sensed the man near, as though his breath surrounded her as he spoke.

  “To everyone a measure of faith has been given.”

  A rush of wind pelted her body with the straw and dust stirred up from the floor, followed by a serene stillness and peace. Opening her eyes, she watched the image grow faint as the light faded. Then he was gone.

  A commotion and voices at the barn door alerted her senses fully.

  “It’s all right,” she called out as Onkle Amos and Aenti Lilly dashed inside carrying buckets.

  Onkle Amos turned to her, his head cocked sideways. “Where’s the fire?”

  Judith looked at her aenti. “Did you see the bright light radiating from the barn? I was worried about Samuel’s horse. And the calves.”

  Aenti Lilly stretched out her arms to Judith. “Kumm, let’s go back to the haus.”

  Judith leaned against her aunt’s shoulder. “You didn’t see the light?”

  “Shh . . . I know.” Her aunt led her to the door. “I’ll take you inside where you can rest.”

  Judith stopped. “They’re okay, the animals, jah?”

  “They’re fine, Judi
th. Nothing happened.”

  “Ach.” A wave of dizziness washed over Judith, and she lifted her hand to her forehead. “I don’t understand. I saw the light from the kitchen window. Didn’t you see him?”

  “Who?”

  “The angel.”

  Aenti Lilly opened the door to the house. “You need to lie down.” She turned to Onkle Amos, who had followed them into the house. “She’s overcome with grief. It’ll pass. She needs to lie down and rest.” Aenti Lilly guided Judith by the elbow down the hallway to her bedroom. “Should I stay with you tonight?”

  “Nay, I’m going to sleep nau.”

  Aenti Lilly paused at the door. “I’ll check on you in the morning.”

  Judith crawled under the covers. This day was too much. Her head collapsed against the pillow and she closed her eyes.

  To everyone a measure of faith . . .

  But how large was her measure?

  Chapter Three

  Judith never dreamed she’d spend her nineteenth birthday alone. The empty house seemed dull and drafty as she padded to the kitchen in her stockings. She emptied the cold ashes from the side of the cast-iron cookstove into a bucket and carried them outside to sprinkle over the harvested area of the garden.

  Mamm insisted that wood ash mixed with barn muck supported an early spring sprout. Though the Englischers who bought from her garden stand told her she had the best produce in the county, she had warned Judith not to become prideful of people’s compliments. “God provides the sunshine and rain,” Mamm always said, “and those elements necessary for life are never in our command.”

  Judith admired the pink blush of morning sky and prayed. “God, please spare Samuel and let him come home. He needs his family. Aemen.” Her eyes were raw from lack of sleep and crying, after she’d spent a sleepless night petitioning God.

  She watched as the fine powder of ash dust settled over the brown, frost-damaged vegetation. The small patch of celery had succumbed to the cold temperature, and that saddened her the most. Next planting season she planned to double the crop size. She wanted plenty of creamed celery for her anticipated wedding feast.

  She turned back to the house. While dreaming about marriage helped take her mind off her brother, it sure wouldn’t get the chores done.

  Judith filled the woodstove with kindling and brewed a pot of coffee. Except for the pan of sourdough biscuits baking in the oven, breakfast was prepared when a knock on the front door sounded.

  “Guder mariye.” Andrew lifted up the full milk buckets.

  She opened the screen door, and as Andrew stepped inside, she looked toward the barn for Levi.

  Andrew wiped his boots on the rug. “It sure smells gut in here.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him, then closed the door. Trying not to show her disappointment, she smiled. “I hope you’re hungry.” She led him to the kitchen, where she gestured for him to unload the milk buckets.

  “You didn’t have to fuss on my account.”

  Judith rose to her tiptoes in front of the sink window. “No fuss.” She craned her neck to look around the lilac bush toward the barn. “Wasn’t Levi going to kumm today?”

  Andrew mumbled something incomprehensible.

  Judith turned away from the window. “Did you say—”

  His eyes widened like Samuel’s did when he was caught sneaking a treat off her cookie sheet. Only instead of giggling like Samuel, Andrew broke into a coughing fit.

  “Can I get you some water?” She removed a glass from the cabinet and pumped the handle of the well several times.

  Andrew’s face looked somewhat flushed, and he avoided eye contact with her when she handed him the glass. “Denki.”

  He must have been thirsty. He drained the water in one gulp.

  She reached for the glass. “Let me pour you more, or would you rather have kaffi with breakfast?”

  “That isn’t necessary. I have other chores—”

  She pulled out a chair from the table. “You have to eat. Have a seat, and I’ll make you a plate.”

  Andrew held her eyes in a long gaze, then cleared his throat, nodded, and took a place at the table. “How’s the burn?” He motioned toward her hand as she placed a cup of black coffee on the table in front of him.

  Judith chuckled. “I suppose all that water you doused on me kept it from blistering.” Opening the oven, she took in a long whiff of baked biscuits as a blast of heat washed over her face. She heaped a serving of fried eggs, potatoes, and hot buttered biscuits onto a plate and handed it to Andrew, who stared at her, then at the plate, but said nothing. Until today, she’d never noticed that he had a sheepish sideways grin. His demeanor was typically more starched than playful. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into him today.

  He cleared his throat and bowed his head in a silent prayer.

  Out of respect she should have closed her eyes. Instead, she studied the waves of chestnut hair that rippled around the crown of his head.

  Andrew lifted his head and grinned, and her cheeks warmed when she realized he had caught her staring.

  “Any word on Samuel?”

  Judith brushed her hands against her apron. “Nett yet.”

  He paused between forkfuls of potatoes and stared.

  At first, she couldn’t decipher his expression, then she understood. His empty look wasn’t bewilderment, but pity.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “He’ll be all right. I saw—” How could she go on? She didn’t doubt what she saw, but how could she expect Andrew to believe her when Levi hadn’t?

  Andrew’s brows lifted. “What did you see?”

  Judith looked down at her hands, clasped in front of her. She wished he hadn’t asked. How could she describe her experience so that Andrew would believe her? A stranger with magnetic blue eyes . . . a blinding light . . . a presence . . . fog . . . chanting.

  “Judith, what’s wrong? You’re so pale. Are you ill?”

  Good. At least the embarrassing blush had faded.

  A knock on the door saved her from having to explain. She rose from the chair and went to answer. The sight of Levi standing on the other side of the screen door brought a wide smile to her face.

  “I milked your brother David’s cows first so I could spend more time here.” Levi followed her into the kitchen. “Any word on Samuel?” He pulled out a chair and sat.

  Judith turned to the stove. “Nay.” She filled a cup with coffee and brought it to him.

  Levi looked at Andrew. “How long have you been here?”

  Andrew shrugged. “Chores are done.”

  “Did Judith ask you if you saw an Englischer yesterday?”

  Andrew lifted his gaze to Judith. “Nay.”

  “What about fog?” Levi continued as though he had a checklist of questions. He turned to Judith. “You did say the man disappeared into the fog, right?”

  Judith turned toward the cabinet, feeling as though a clammy blanket of dread had been wrapped around her shoulders. Maybe if she ignored the question, he’d drop it. She removed a plate from the cabinet.

  “Did you notice any fog, Andrew?”

  “Nay.”

  Judith cringed. Why must Levi tell the bishop’s son, of all people? She removed the lid from the cast-iron skillet, piled the plate with fried eggs and potatoes, and brought it to the table, pretending not to notice both of their stares.

  “Andrew didn’t see any man or fog.”

  “So I heard.” She slapped the plate on the table in front of Levi. What was his purpose in asking Andrew . . . to make her look delusional? She eased into the chair at the end of the table.

  Levi leaned over the plate and took a deep breath. “This smells gut.” He looked at Andrew. “What do you think, Bishop Junior—will she make a fine fraa?”

  Andrew glanced at Judith and then at Levi. “Jah.”

  Levi turned to Judith and winked. “I spent a gut share of last night wondering why you made up the story of the Englischer.” He speared potatoes wi
th his fork. “Because of Martha, jah?”

  Judith cuffed her hand behind her neck, trying to thwart the anger she felt boiling up inside her. Her muscles tightened while she applied steady pressure and willed herself to keep silent.

  She shot up from the table and grabbed the pot holder on the counter. With her shoulders squared, she proceeded to the table with the kettle. “More kaffi, Andrew?”

  He wiped his mouth with a napkin and pushed back from the table. “Nay, I have to be going.” He walked to the kitchen entry and paused. “Happy birthday.”

  Judith smiled, pleased he had remembered. “Denki.” She returned the kettle to the stove, then followed him to the door. “It was very kind of you to take care of the animals.”

  Andrew nodded and lifted his hat off the wall hook. “It was no trouble.” His gaze drifted toward the kitchen, and she wondered what caused his now sullen expression.

  He looked back at her. “Judith, don’t take that from him. You deserve better.”

  She didn’t know what to say.

  His eyes widened. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have spoken so forwardly. Denki for breakfast.”

  “Jah, have a gut day.”

  Judith returned to the kitchen. She picked up Andrew’s plate and utensils and carried them to the sink. “I wish you hadn’t said that about my cooking.” She decided not to respond to his comment about Martha.

  Levi put down his fork and crossed the room to meet her next to the sink. “That you’d make a gut fraa? Why?”

  She shrugged. “Did you see Andrew’s face? I feel sorry for him.”

  Levi cupped both his hands over her shoulders. “Don’t feel sorry for him. There are many maids his age in the next district who would love to marry Bishop Junior.”

  Judith winced at the way he mocked Andrew, as though he were predestined to follow his father’s ministry role.

  Levi rolled his eyes. “But according to Andrew, there was only one person he’d ever marry.”

  “I know he spent a lot of time with Esther while she was ill.” She wanted to add that she hadn’t heard rumors of Andrew participating in rumschpringe or that he made a practice of meaninglessly kissing other women.