Sol frowned. “People are saying things about you, about why you are being nice to Mary.” He cleared his throat. “Paul Glick says that Mary has led you into temptation. He says you’re doing things with Mary that you shouldn’t. She’s pretty and obviously willing to do that kind of thing with a boy.”
Not two minutes ago, Andrew had promised himself he wasn’t going to descend into another argument with Sol, and now it took all his willpower not to give Sol a good shove off the porch. His blood raced scalding hot through his veins. He took a deep breath and spoke in a calm, controlled voice. “People shouldn’t talk about Mary that way. None of it’s true. If you aren’t willing to believe in Mary, at least you should know me better. I would never do something like that.”
Sol shrugged as if they were talking about his crops. “I don’t believe the gossip. I’m only telling you what other people say. You probably don’t realize what people think when you’re nice to her.”
“Gossip is a horrible sin.”
Sol scooted a few inches from Andrew on the step as if he could sense the anger bubbling inside him, but he spoke as if he took no responsibility for the gossip. “I’m just telling you what other people are saying.”
Funny how Sol seemed to think that gossip was something other people did.
Sol studied Andrew’s face and scooted a little farther. “Look, Andrew, I know you like Mary. I used to like her too, but her kindness was an act. She left us without a word as soon as she could find a ride out of here. We can’t forget how she betrayed her parents and the whole community. At heart, she’s selfish and ungrateful.”
Andrew clenched his teeth and clamped his fingers around the step he was sitting on. Sol and Treva didn’t know Mary at all. They had reinvented her personality in the time she’d been gone. Andrew had barely known her before she left, but he knew she was smart and lively and kind. Jerry Zimmerman had known her, and his reaction upon seeing her spoke for itself. Andrew hated to admit it, but Jerry was a gute man. He would know if Mary had been selfish and ungrateful as a girl.
But what good would it do to try to convince Sol? They’d only get in another fight, and his bruderen would be forced to climb out their window again. They’d probably bring their rope this time.
Sol wanted to think he was doing Andrew a favor by telling him this, but he was only making him hotter and sweatier. “Mary has been in the Englisch world for three, four years. We can only imagine what wickedness she’s gotten herself into.”
“It’s only been two years.” And Sol had no doubt let his imagination run wild.
“It’s hard to give up the Englisch way of life.” Sol placed a hand on Andrew’s shoulder as if he cared about him, but Sol couldn’t quite hide his self-righteous glee. “Be careful that you don’t misplace your friendship. She isn’t going to stay. She’s using you just like she’s using all of us to get what she wants.”
Mary had told Andrew that one of the reasons she left the community was because she was turning into a girl like Treva Nelson, proud, resentful, judgmental. He pinched his lips together and eyed Sol. Was this who Andrew had been before he met Mary?
He felt ill. Of course this was who he had been. He had warned his own bruderen to stay away from her, all because of his self-righteous confidence, as if he had never committed a sin in his life. It had only been a few weeks, but looking back, he didn’t much like his past self. If it hadn’t been for Mary, he’d still be in that place, maybe sitting here with Sol on the porch, congratulating himself on his own righteousness. He had resisted her mightily, but Mary had changed him with her exceptional grace, patience, and stubborn determination. He could never repay her for that.
Andrew would as soon pull out his hair than give ear to anything Sol said, but a seed of doubt had been planted in his head all the same—not doubt about Mary’s goodness, but about her choices. Would she choose to leave the community after she had the baby? She’d left once before. It would be easy to do again. Would she value her freedom more than her ties to the community, her family, those she loved?
The ache in the pit of Andrew’s stomach grew sharper. It shouldn’t matter to him if Mary chose to leave. She had never figured into the plans he had for his life. But as he sat there trying not to yell at Sol, he realized it mattered very much.
“Don’t get too attached to her,” Sol said. “She’s trouble, and she’ll leave before you can tie that boot of yours.”
Andrew looked down at his foot. He still hadn’t tied his lace, and there was no hope for the woodshop now. He wished Sol would go away.
Andrew bent over and tied his boot, silently taking back the apology he’d given Sol.
Sol never even knew.
Chapter Eleven
Matthew Gingerich was as nosy as an anteater and twice as obnoxious. He sat down next to Andrew on the bench and nudged his shoulder. “What is going on between you and Mary Coblenz?”
“What do you mean?” Andrew said, searching for a topic to divert Matthew’s attention. How could Andrew explain Mary to anyone else when he wasn’t even sure himself?
Almost automatically, Andrew gazed around the yard looking for her. Gmay was at the Coblenzes’ house today—at the home where Mary had grown up and wasn’t welcome anymore. Andrew had half expected Mary to stay away from services this morning, but she’d shown up in the buggy with Bitsy and Yost and lined up with everyone else when they marched into the house. Her house. Mary’s parents hadn’t said a word to her, and it wouldn’t have been in keeping with the Sabbath to bar her from gmay.
Even though her parents pretty much ignored her, Andrew hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Mary the entire service. She was so beautiful and so brave, sitting in her parents’ home while her mamm turned her face away and her dat stared at her as if someone had let a pig into the house. Even though Andrew hadn’t expected anything different, her parents’ treatment made Andrew ache for Mary.
After services, the men had set up tables and benches on the front lawn for fellowship supper, and the men and boys were helping themselves to bread and spread, pickles and cookies.
“I heard you made Treva Nelson cry,” Matthew said, stuffing another piece of bread into his mouth, “all because of Mary.”
Andrew didn’t growl, like he wanted to. He didn’t even roll his eyes. He’d only just recently realized how active and vibrant the Amish gossip mill was and how much people liked to gossip. He had also recently seen how destructive and hurtful gossip could be and determined never to participate in it again. Couldn’t people see how easily gossip could get out of hand? Couldn’t they see that what one person thought of as the truth often got twisted beyond recognition?
“I made Treva mad,” Andrew finally said. “But I didn’t hurt her feelings.” Was it even worth it to try to set Matthew straight? When he’d tried that with Sol, it had only turned into an argument. “She was being rude to Mary, and I told her so. But if it makes you feel better, I’ve apologized to Treva.” And Sol, however insincere that apology was.
Matthew shrugged. “Why should that make me feel better? Treva can be wonderful mean. She once told my sister Mandy that she was fat.”
“She did?”
“Mandy turned the other cheek, but I’m glad you set Treva straight. Forgiveness does not mean being cowardly. Sometimes we have to speak up when we see a wrong being done. Even the Lord Jesus cleared the temple when the moneychangers defiled it.”
Andrew was grateful for any ally he could get. He’d always liked Matthew. “Denki. I appreciate that. I think people should treat Mary more kindly.”
Matthew nodded. “Jah. People have been uncertain about her, but no one should ever be mean. My schwester says Mary was at the Kanagys’ canning frolic. She’s a wonderful nice girl, and I believe in repentance.”
Andrew believed in repentance too. And second chances. And hope for a brighter future for Mary . . . and for him.
Benji came huffing and puffing up to Andrew’s table. “Andrew, you’ve got
to come. We need you.”
Andrew pulled his brows together. “Aren’t you supposed to be eating?”
“I finished already, and I need you to come. Fast.”
This whole “dire emergency” business with Benji and Alfie was getting old. Andrew had just about come to the end of his patience. The problem was that, recently, Benji and Alfie’s dire emergencies actually had been dire emergencies. Ignoring Benji could mean a broken arm or a burned shed or some other near-death experience. Andrew huffed out a frustrated breath and gave Benji the evil eye. “Why do you want me to come? Can’t Abraham or Austin help?”
“It has to be you.” Benji glanced at Matthew and grabbed Andrew’s arm. “It’s a secret.”
Andrew didn’t want to encourage Benji any more than he already had, but Benji’s secrets tended to be life-threatening. Besides, Andrew hadn’t seen Mary in a while. This would give him a reason to find her. Maybe he’d get a chance to talk to her, to see how she was feeling about staying in the community. To see how she was feeling about her parents. He groaned and let Benji pull him around to the side of the house where no one could see them. This was not going to help him find Mary.
Benji squeezed Andrew’s hand hard, almost as if this emergency was worse than all the others. “There’s an Englischer yelling at Mary.”
Andrew’s lungs constricted. “Where is she?”
Benji pressed his lips together. “He’s not really yelling. He’s talking kind of angry, but it would be lying to say he is yelling.”
“Where, Benji?”
“I always try to tell the truth.”
Benji was the most exasperating boy in the world, next to Alfie. Andrew wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake the words out of him. Instead, he chose an understanding, sweet and loving smile on his face, as if he had nothing better to do than stand there and talk about telling the truth, even though he thought he might pop a vein in his neck. “I trust you, Benji. I know you always try to tell the honest truth. But where is Mary?”
“Alfie saw an Englischer drive up behind the barn, and then Mary saw him and sneaked away from the supper. Nobody saw her but Alfie and me. She frowned at the Englischer, and then they went inside the barn, and he started yelling at her.” Benji traced his toe in the dirt. “Well, he wasn’t really yelling, but Alfie told me to come and get you.”
A major blood vessel was definitely going to pop in his neck. “They’re in the barn?”
Benji nodded.
Andrew was halfway there when he turned back to Benji. “Stay here and go get Alfie.”
“I can’t get him and stay here at the same time.”
“You and Alfie go back to the supper and leave this to me.” Andrew didn’t really have time to see if Benji would actually do what he said, but he’d have to trust his bruder. If Mary was in trouble, there wasn’t another minute to waste.
He wanted to sprint but opted for a subdued jog just in case someone was watching him. The barn sat at the back of the Coblenzes’ property next to a barbed wire fence and the pavement. A red car was parked on the other side of the fence off to the side of the road. Andrew’s speed increased with his pulse rate. There was definitely an Englischer somewhere close by. Benji hadn’t been wrong about that. He probably wasn’t wrong about any of it. Benji knew more than anyone gave him credit for.
A slight movement off to his right caught Andrew’s eye. It might have been a cat or dog tiptoeing behind the tall oak that stood next to the barn, or it might have been Alfie with a pair of binoculars around his neck and a pocketknife in his hand. Andrew was pretty sure it was Alfie, but he certainly didn’t have time for that. He had to find Mary first.
The barn door was slightly ajar, and for sure and certain, Mary was in there talking to someone. “I’m not moving back in with you,” she said.
“What are you going to do? Live on the streets? I’m not paying child support, if that’s what you’re after.” A man’s voice echoed off the ceiling of the barn, loud and clear. Andrew’s heart jumped like a grasshopper. It had to be the boyfriend. Or, hopefully, the ex-boyfriend. Andrew thought he might be sick.
“Maybe I’ll stay here.” Andrew could hear the defiance in Mary’s voice. No one could make her do anything she didn’t want to do.
The boyfriend laughed. “In Amishland? Come on, Mary. You hated it here.”
“I didn’t hate it.”
“Sure. That’s why you left as soon as we scraped up enough money to buy a car. You never once wanted to go back in all the time we were together.”
“Until I realized what kind of person you are.” Mary’s voice was rough and low, as if voicing a secret that only she and the boyfriend knew about.
“That’s a load of crap, and you know it. You liked me just fine when I took you away from here.” The boyfriend seemed to move farther into the barn. “But maybe you were just using me.”
“Stay away from me, Josh,” Mary said. “I don’t want you here.”
Andrew didn’t know what was going on, but Mary’s voice rose in pitch, and he wasn’t about to let anything happen to her. He threw open the barn door. Mary had her hand pressed against the boyfriend’s chest as if blocking an advance, her face a mixture of anger and distress.
The distress got Andrew’s blood boiling.
The boyfriend snapped his head around when light flooded the space.
“Get away from Mary,” Andrew growled, feeling brave enough to actually do something about it if the boyfriend gave him trouble. It was a powerful, terrifying feeling.
Scowling like he had a very nasty taste in his mouth, the boyfriend raised his hands and slowly backed away from Mary. “I don’t want a fight, Amish boy. I just need to talk to Mary.”
Andrew didn’t realize his hands were balled into fists until Mary rushed to his side and wrapped her fingers around his arm. “It’s okay, Andrew. Josh won’t hurt me. At least I don’t think so.”
Josh lowered his hands. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said, a layer of sarcasm in his voice. He pulled a cigarette from his back pocket and stuck it between his lips.
Andrew’s heart slowed enough for him to manage a rational thought. “Don’t smoke in the barn. You’ll start a fire.”
Josh chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Oh, the problems you have to deal with in Amishland. People can’t even go out to have a smoke for fear of setting the crops on fire.”
Mary and Andrew followed Josh as he sauntered outside ten feet from the barn, lit his cigarette, and sucked in the smoke. Andrew nearly coughed from the smell. How had Mary lived with that for two years?
“You shouldn’t smoke around Mary. It might hurt the baby,” Andrew said, earning a tentative smile from Mary and an I-couldn’t-care-less look from Josh.
Josh tapped the ashes from his cigarette. “I don’t want to be rude, man, but I need to talk to Mary. Give us some privacy.”
Mary still had hold of Andrew’s arm, and she squeezed tighter.
In spite of the boyfriend and the unpleasant look he was shooting in Andrew’s direction, Andrew’s heart soared. Mary needed him. Being needed was a heady feeling. “I’m not going anywhere unless Mary asks me to leave.”
Mary breathed a barely audible sigh. “Denki,” she whispered, looking up at him as if he’d saved her life. He’d never felt more noble, even though he hadn’t really done that much. Mary turned to Josh. “Whatever you want to say, you’ll have to say to both of us.”
“Did you leave me to hook up with this Amish guy?” Josh practically spit the words at Mary. She squeezed tighter on Andrew’s arm but didn’t change the expression on her face.
“You know why I left,” she said.
Josh pressed the heel of his hand to his cheek. “For crying out loud, Mary, do we have to go over this again? I said I was sorry. You Amish aren’t supposed to hold a grudge. Can’t you forgive me and move on?”
“I do forgive you, and I have moved on.”
Josh blew smoke from between his
lips. “That’s not what I mean. You’re the one who always talked about choices and consequences. I was afraid a baby would change us. Having a baby changes things.”
Mary lifted her chin. “Don’t you think I know that?”
“You’re nineteen. A baby wasn’t exactly in your life plan when we got together. You wanted to go to school.” He let the cigarette dangle from his mouth as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “A baby will tie you down. You’ll have less freedom than you did when you were Amish.”
Mary squeezed Andrew’s arm even tighter. Freedom was the most important thing in the world to Mary. Was Josh getting to her?
Andrew wasn’t certain about intervening, but Mary was clearly unnerved by the conversation. “Is there something particular you needed to say to Mary?” Andrew said. “Because we need to get back to the fellowship supper.”
Josh glared at Andrew as if he were the devil himself. “If I had that haircut, I’d kill myself.”
“Shut up, Josh,” Mary said.
It was nice of Mary to defend him, but Josh’s insult didn’t bother Andrew. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. The local Englisch teenagers made fun of the Amish all the time, as if their multiple piercings and tattoos weren’t ridiculous in their own way. What did bother Andrew was that Josh was getting madder with every word. The color traveled up his face like wildfire up a pine tree, and he bared his teeth like a dog on the attack. With his pulse throbbing in his ears, Andrew took a small step forward. If Josh’s anger turned violent, Andrew would be ready to stand between him and Mary.
Josh frowned and turned away from Andrew as if he would never say another word to him again. “You don’t belong here, Mary. You know it, and I know it.”
“What about the baby?”
“Evelyn doesn’t want the baby growing up around these religious kooks.”
Mary’s eyes went wide. “Evelyn? What does Evelyn have to do with it?” She glanced at Andrew. “Evelyn is Josh’s stepmother. We lived with her in Green Bay.”
Andrew nodded, grateful that she wanted to include him in the conversation, like it was important to her that he knew.
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