“I think it’s good you’ve remained friends.”
“He’s never been anything else. I know I’ve mentioned that I missed him before, but only because we’ve always hung out, and he’s been seeing someone. Did I tell you that?”
Relief, if it was relief, flickered through his eyes. Whatever she’d seen, it lasted only a few moments. “It’s too soon, Lennie.”
“Oh … of … of course … I didn’t mean that you felt … anything for me.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she released the gloves.
He moved toward the door. Afraid it might be months before she got another quiet moment alone with him, she couldn’t just let him walk out without telling him how she felt. She bolted in front of him, and he stopped abruptly.
“I … I’ll … wait.” Her heart pounded like crazy as she dared to cross all lines of common sense. “I won’t say anything to anyone. Not a hint. And I know it’s too soon for you to … really care, but if you think you might … one day … I … I’ll wait … if you … want …”
He said nothing, and she couldn’t read him. Her pulse raced as she stood before him so very vulnerable, and she felt lightheaded. When he didn’t smile or nod, she knew she’d misread him earlier. His feelings did not match hers. Again.
She forced a smile. “Okay.” Tears blurred her sight. “I … saw things I wanted to see. I’m sorry. I … guess I had to make a fool of myself over someone sooner or later. I trust you’ll keep this between us.”
He stared at the dirt floor. “Of course.”
Desperate to be alone, Lena turned to go. He caught her by the hand, so gently that at first she thought she’d brushed a plant. Upon glancing down, she realized he held her hand.
He studied her. “I … I’m sorry, Lennie.”
She tried to gain composure, but tears fell freely. “It’s not your fault. I … I should’ve known.”
She pulled free and hurried outside. Covering her birthmark, she went inside and straight to her room. She’d ruined everything—thrown her dignity down a well, embarrassed Grey, and ended all easygoing friendship between them. What a fool. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her birthmark had flushed a shade darker and seemed to creep farther up her cheek, like a stamped reminder of who she really was.
Thirty
Deborah stood inside the walk-in pantry with a goal—to reorganize it. It’s not what she should be doing. She needed to tell Ada the truth. Her conscience nudged, but it would hurt Ada so badly to know that her son was close by, or at least had been close by, and he hadn’t bothered to come see her. It’d already been a week since Deborah had met Mahlon at the restaurant for the last time.
The spring rains pattered against the roof, windows, and siding. Not one customer had knocked on the door all day. It seemed as if God Himself were arranging time for Deborah to break the news to Ada.
Ada came to the pantry door and motioned to the shelves. “They look much like they did thirty minutes ago.” She cupped her hand under Deborah’s chin. “And you look much like a woman with a broken heart. Want to talk?”
“I don’t want to. If … if I could keep it from you forever, I would.”
Ada put her arm around Deborah. “Kumm, we’ve grown too close to hide truths from each other, no matter how painful they are.”
Deborah held out a chair for Ada. “You sit. I’ll fix us some tea.”
Ada tilted her head, concern filling her eyes. Deborah added fresh water to the kettle, hoping she could hide from Ada many of her thoughts and feelings about Mahlon.
He’d taken up Deborah’s time and energy, ruined what she had with Jonathan, and then disappeared, leaving her to pick up the pieces. Served her right, she supposed. Mahlon was who he was, and she’d dared to give him the benefit of the doubt, thinking she could make a difference in his choices. But it had never worked in the past, so why had she thought this time would be any different?
Mahlon’s leftovers.
Maybe that had been true at first but no longer. And Jonathan shouldn’t have said that to her, but it did help her see how her actions made Jonathan look if she had been seen with Mahlon.
She set two mugs on the table before dipping the tea-ball infusers into the canister of fresh tea leaves. Deborah didn’t want Ada to know that Mahlon’s selfishness in simply abandoning them had ended up setting Deborah free. Inside his quiet ways there stirred constant doubt and drama. He’d have a few days or weeks of accepting his circumstances with gratefulness, and then his turmoil would begin again. She saw that clearly now, and she thanked God she’d been spared from marrying him.
“The water’s on to heat. And the tea balls are prepared. Come sit.” Ada pulled out a chair and waited.
Deborah had stalled for as long as she could. “I don’t know how to cushion what needs to be said.”
“Just say it, child. Jonathan hasn’t been here much lately. Are you at odds with my nephew and fear what that will do to our business?”
She missed Jonathan, but she had no concerns about the business. They had the money to hire someone to fill in for him as needed. “Mahlon returned.”
Ada grabbed her hands. “Is he well?”
“Ya. I’ve met with him. He asked me not to say anything, so I didn’t. But … I don’t know where he is now, if he’s living in Hope Crossing or moved on. He … he … said he wanted to rejoin the faith … if I’d have him.”
Tears trailed Ada’s cheeks. “My son wants to return?”
“I … I’m so sorry, Ada.”
Confusion filled her eyes. “Sorry?”
Deborah fought tears. Ada had only heard that her son hoped to rejoin the faith. “I tried to encourage him to return to the fold or at least.” How could she tell Ada she’d all but begged him to visit her? “The last I saw him was a week ago. I … fear he’s moved on again.”
“You met with him, had planned visits?”
The kettle began to whistle. Deborah went to the stove and turned off the flame. “I did.”
“What did he say?”
Deborah stood near her, pouring hot water in a mug. “He … wanted things I can’t give him, Ada. I … I’m sorry.”
Ada covered her face and cried. As a storm of tears rolled over her friend, Deborah moved back to the kitchen chair, feeling helpless.
“Was I such an awful Mamm he couldn’t make himself come see me?”
“It’s not you, Ada, just like he didn’t leave me because of me.”
“But he came back for you, right?”
Deborah nodded. “And he said he’d return to both of us and to the faith if I’d still marry him.”
Ada sobbed. After catching her breath, she smacked the tabletop. “That boy! He should not have asked such a thing of you.”
Deborah choked back tears. “I wish I could have done this for you, Ada.”
“I’d not have let you!” Ada stood and engulfed Deborah in a hug. “I pray he returns. I do.” She sobbed. “But I will not give you up to marry a man who is so unsure of what he wants. Even you don’t have the power to make him happy. But you have it in you to be content and enjoy life, ya?”
“I don’t seem to be very good at it, but I … I think so.”
“That’s not true, Deborah. You left your home in Dry Lake and moved in with me because you have a good heart. We’ve had sadness this year, but even then you kept working your way toward contentedness. You’re grateful too.”
“And wimpy.”
“Not wimpy. Gentle. Unkindness breaks your heart, leaving you addled for a while. But it is no surprise Mahlon found the world to be a cold place without you. And he knows the Old Ways are not enough unless you are by his side. I used to fear he’d come to his senses after he’d ruined his chance with you. My fears have come true, but he made his choice. Of course he changed his mind, but now you’ve made up yours.”
“Jonathan saw me with Mahlon, and he’s furious with me.”
“You care for my nephew then?”
“I … I’m sorry. I know it’s—”
“You owe me no apology. I take no offense, Deborah. Do you care for him?”
A glimmer of hurt showed in Ada’s eyes, but Deborah trusted that their love would see them through the fresh damage Mahlon had heaped on them. She would turn twenty-two next month, and she finally knew what she wanted out of life: to trust God no matter what, to know herself, and to enjoy every piece of life possible—come floods or drought or anything in between.
And she wanted to earn Jonathan’s respect back.
And then his love.
“Ya.”
“He’s more like Mahlon’s Daed than Mahlon. My husband, Gerald, God rest his soul, was a good and faithful man. Patient and kind. And so much fun. He was steady and a blessing.” She smiled. “Most of the time, anyway. But when he got mad, ach, there was no reasoning with him.”
“Jonathan wouldn’t even listen.”
Ada sat. “Fix yourself a cup of tea and come sit. I’ll tell you how to get him to listen.”
Grey stopped his horse at the hitching post beside the cemetery. A white split-rail fence surrounded it. He opened the gate and went inside. Rays of light poured through the thick white clouds. He went to his wife’s grave site, removed his hat, and stared at the lush green grass.
The minutes ticked by. Birds sang. The aroma of spring surrounded him. The gift of life stared at him.
He cleared his throat. “I … I can’t keep carrying the guilt for both of us. We made a mess of our marriage. We had our chance, Elsie. I tried. You know I did. After what we went through, the idea of marriage seemed too much to even think about again, but marriage isn’t scary. Walls and lies and deceit are. It doesn’t have to be that way, especially if friendship is the biggest part.”
He shifted, glad this cemetery was out of view of the road as he spoke to the earth covering his wife’s remains. “Maybe I shouldn’t be ready to care for any woman, but I do. And I can’t find hope for the future while wallowing in the guilt of the past. It wasn’t all me. I lost sight of that after you … passed from this life.”
What was it about a place that drew loved ones when it held only the remains of a physical body? He’d never come here and talked before today. But he had to get free of the guilt and fear that ate at him night and day.
Worse than those things, because of his sense of loyalty to Elsie and his fear of falling in love, he’d hurt Lennie. She’d shared her heart with him a week ago, and he’d let her believe he didn’t care for her.
He closed his eyes. The air itself seemed to carry peace, and he drew a deep breath. Feeling as if he’d finally laid down the weight of both his and Elsie’s guilt, he crouched and touched the grass over her burial spot. “I’m glad you’re at peace, Elsie.”
After a moment he went to his carriage. Rather than going home, he went by Lennie’s. But Israel said she was at Allen’s for the evening.
He tapped on the door. Allen opened it. “Hey, it’s been a while since you were here on a Friday night. I didn’t expect you to come by.” He motioned. “Kumm.”
Lennie stood at the sink, washing dishes. Some of the same notes he’d seen spread out on her kitchen table were now on Allen’s table. All the children but the baby were in the living room, playing with a child-sized kitchen and eating ice cream.
Lennie looked up as if making sure he was okay. “Hi.”
Taken aback, he barely managed a nod. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but her reaction assured him that her heart of friendship overrode any other feelings taking place between them.
Emily waved the spoon in her hand before dipping it into the bowl in front of her. “Evening, Grey.”
“Emily.” He removed his hat. “I … I came to talk to Lennie.”
“Ah, the Picnic Basket Auction is tomorrow.” Allen took a seat at the table. “Has she roped you into helping with something on that project too? You might as well get used to being asked and learn how to say no. She’s always busy with one project or another because she has no love life.”
“Allen, please.” Lennie dried her hands before glancing to Grey. “I think we’ve got everything settled. No need to discuss anything else.”
She sounded kind and matter-of-fact.
Allen yawned. “Never even been on a date, that treasure hasn’t, and at this rate she never will.”
“Oh, she will all right.” Emily smacked her husband’s shoulder.
Never? Grey couldn’t believe that, but he wouldn’t ask.
“Allen.” Lennie waited until he looked at her. “Shut up.”
“I’m not trying to pick on you. I just think you need to try a little harder. After all your prep for running the Picnic Basket Auction tomorrow, did you fix a basket for someone to bid on?”
“It’s the rules. If a woman over the age of seventeen walks into the schoolhouse, she must have a basket to auction off.”
“Gut.” Allen tossed a peanut into his mouth.
Grey fidgeted with his hat. “Lennie, can we talk?”
She picked up several papers and a pencil. “I really have a lot I need to get done for tomorrow.”
Emily studied him for a moment. Then she looked at Lennie before standing and tugging on her husband’s sleeve.
“What?” Allen mumbled.
“I need some help bathing the little ones. They have ice cream all over themselves.”
“I thought Lennie was going to help with that.”
“She has enough to do, and I just volunteered you.”
He shrugged. “I’ll be a while. Make yourself at home, Grey.”
Waiting on Emily and Allen to get the children upstairs, Grey studied Lennie. She folded her arms, looking resigned to the discomfort he was causing.
The Amish traditions of courting or dating made it easy for young people to keep who they were seeing a complete secret. Grey had always assumed Lennie handled her private life discreetly. And maybe she did. Maybe Allen just didn’t know.
As voices faded, she took a seat at the head of the table. “Look, Grey, I know you’re sorry for what happened and that you feel bad about it. I appreciate your kindness, but I really don’t need you coming here to explain it all more carefully.”
Hoping the right words came to him, he placed his hat on the table in front of him and sat near her. “Lennie … I didn’t come here for that reason.”
The muffled sounds of water running in a tub and children prattling filled the room. He couldn’t manage to say anything more.
She gathered some of the papers. “What then?”
“I … I …” He fidgeted with the rim of his hat. “I think I need a minute inside that circle of peace.”
She laid the papers down and really looked at him for the first time. “You … have someone.”
“No. What would make you say that?”
“If you’re asking for pardon while you tell me a difficult truth, I just assumed …”
He put his hands over hers. “Lennie, could you stop jumping to the wrong conclusion for just a minute? See … I …” He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m really not very good at this.”
“I can see that.” She slid her hands free of his. “They’re words, Grey. You choose them in your mind, and then you share them.”
Her straightforwardness made him smile. “You were so open about how you feel toward me and what you were thinking. I wasn’t ready to admit how I felt. You … you didn’t read me wrong.”
Disappointment reflected in her eyes. “Sorry, Grey, but I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that because you’re a really nice guy.”
“I know how I feel … how I felt before you came to me in the greenhouse.”
Her eyes grew large, but it wasn’t with excitement. It was wariness.
“You’re not going to believe me?”
“I … I want to … of course.”
“Good. Then it’s settled.” He angled his head, studying her. “Or is it?”
A slow, beautiful smile radiat
ed from her. “I suppose it is, but it’ll take months before it sinks in.”
“Time we have. Actually we’ve got a lot of it ahead of us, and I know you said you’d wait, but maybe you should consider seeing other men—just to be sure your feelings … you know … aren’t out of pity.”
“You think I feel sorry for you?” She laughed. “Surely you can’t believe that at twenty-four years old I don’t know the difference between love and sympathy. I’ve waited a lifetime. And you should trust that I know what I want.”
His eyes moved over every inch of her face. “I like the way you argue.” He squeezed her hand.
“Are you sure you’re sure?”
“You were better at accepting that I didn’t care than you are at believing that I do.”
Her hand eased to her birthmark, an unconscious move he’d bet. “I … I suppose I am.”
He eased her hand away and caressed the mark. He ran his fingers down her neck, following the birthmark. When her eyes met his, he steadied his breathing. Gently guiding her closer, he breathed in the scent of lavender and roses. He kissed her cheek and brushed his lips across her skin until he reached her lips. Everything about her tender movements, including caressing his beard, spoke of being at ease with him. After receiving a kiss he’d never forget, he put some space between them.
Her eyes were closed. “Duh net schtobbe.”
As she whispered do not stop, he wished the journey ahead of them wasn’t such a long one. He had to be much more careful than they were being right now. Her reputation could easily be ruined if they didn’t walk pure for at least another year. He placed his fingers under her chin, willing her to look at him.
“Lennie, we can’t be careless. It doesn’t matter how we feel. I’m still required to continue my period of mourning before I can court you or before anyone can know about us.”
She shifted, sitting up straighter. “Ya. You’re right.” She ran her fingers over her lips. “That was amazing.”
The Bridge of Peace Page 25