by Amy Lillard
“I told him we were making cookies, but after I get this batch out of the oven, I’m going to the other room to talk, okay?”
Annie studied her for a moment, then gave Jonah a once-over. Until that moment Sarah hadn’t realized how handsome he looked. What was it they said? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? One night away and she had almost forgotten how good-looking he was. But it was also the first time that she had noticed how tired he looked, like he hadn’t gotten much sleep. But she had only been gone one night. Or maybe that sad tilt to his eyes and the small downward turn at the corners of his mouth had been there longer than she realized.
“Jah, okay,” Annie finally said.
The kitchen timer dinged, and Sarah instinctively moved to get the cookies. Jonah hovered nearby.
She hated that her hands shook as she moved the cookies to the stove top to cool. She should take them off the cookie sheet to cool on the rack, but the way she was trembling, she was bound to tear them all in half. Better leave them where they were for now.
She nodded toward the entryway that led into the family room.
Her heart thumped in her chest as she settled down on the couch. The last time they were here, they were telling her parents about the baby. Now . . .
“What’s on your mind, Jonah?”
“April said I should come by and talk to you.”
The name was like a slap in the face. “You’ve been talking to April?”
He nodded, obviously missing the hurt in her voice. “She’s easy to talk to and—”
“Then why aren’t you talking to her now?” Sarah resisted the urge to jump to her feet and hustle him to the door. Until this minute she had thought he had come to make up with her, tell her that he wanted her to come back home. Then he busted out with April.
Sarah wasn’t sure what hurt the most, the fact that he’d been spending time with another woman or that the other woman was the only reason why he had shown up here today.
Jonah’s face turned red. “I’m not married to April.”
Sarah crossed her arms, more to stop their trembling than to shut him out. “According to all the gossips, you might as well be.”
He was on his feet in a heartbeat. “Is that what you think of me?”
“I don’t know what to think, Jonah. All I know is what you show me. I thought you came here today to maybe work through a few things, but I can see now I was wrong.”
“It seems I was too.” He limped, stiff-legged, toward the door.
Sarah watched, helpless as he crammed his hat back onto his head and grabbed his coat. He was out the door without even putting it on. He couldn’t get distance between them soon enough.
She should have known.
Sarah flopped down on the sofa and gave into her tears.
* * *
The weatherman had been talking about snow for days, but so far none had fallen. Today was entirely too warm for it now, but Jonah didn’t care. He was just happy he and April could sit out on the porch and talk without the wind cutting straight through them.
“You told her what?”
“That you and I were talking, and she just went crazy. She started telling me that I should just go talk to you.”
“And what did you say?”
He shook his head, chagrined by what had transpired between him and Sarah. “It turned bad from there.”
“And you walked out.”
“How’d you know?” he asked.
April shook her head. “Amish men are more like English ones than most people realize.”
He picked at the peeling paint on the bench where he sat.
“Do you love her?” April asked.
The question took him off guard. “Love doesn’t matter. We’re married, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Unless you decide to leave the faith.”
“Jah.”
“Is that something you would consider?”
Would he? He didn’t know. What he did know was that his wife was angry all the time and marriage hadn’t turned out anything like he’d planned.
Who was to blame?
He just didn’t know.
* * *
“That doesn’t mean anything.” Annie opened the oven to peek at the bread, then turned back to Sarah.
She didn’t want her sister taking up for Jonah. She wanted to stay mad at him. “It means a lot, actually.”
Annie straightened and turned off the oven. She left the bread inside to cook a few minutes in the remaining heat. “How so?”
“Annie, he’s running around with an English girl.” Had her sister somehow become deaf in the few minutes they had been talking? True, Annie seemed to be in her own little world most days, but it was one of the things that Sarah enjoyed about her sister. However, today it was beginning to grate her nerves a little.
“And?” Annie nodded, encouraging Sarah to continue, but there was nothing else to say.
“Isn’t that enough?”
Annie shot her a look that was half pity, half astonishment. “It’s nothing. That’s what it is,” she said, turning away and removing the bread from the oven. She set it on the stove top, then faced Sarah, her hands still folded around the pot holders as she propped them on her hips. “You are looking for something to be upset with him about. And it seems like you’ve found something even though it is ridiculous.”
Sarah wrinkled her nose despite the wonderful smell of freshly baked bread that surrounded them. Annie might live in her own world at times, but she was about the best cook Sarah knew. “It is not.”
“Did he tell you he loves her? Or that he regrets marrying you?”
Tears stung the back of Sarah’s eyes. “He didn’t have to.”
Annie shook her head sadly. “I know that the two of you got married under . . . unusual circumstances, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care for you.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“If he didn’t, then why did he marry you to begin with?”
“Because he had no choice.” Sarah wanted to hang her head in shame, but this was Annie, the one person she knew she could depend on to not pass judgment.
“Everyone has a choice, Sarah.”
* * *
Those words stayed with Sarah all that evening and into the night. Annie climbed into bed and wanted to talk, but Sarah feigned sleep. She had too much on her mind to participate in idle chitchat.
Did Jonah really have a choice?
No. Not in their world. She had heard tales of English girls having babies with no husband around to speak of, but the Amish didn’t allow such behavior. The night that she and Jonah had spent together had brought enough shame to them both. And though her reputation seemed more fragile by far than his, he had to maintain appearances as much as she. But could he have walked away?
She supposed that he could have. But he would have most probably gone to live with the English and let her alone to raise their child.
But there was no child.
She smoothed a hand over the flat plane of her stomach. She usually carried a couple of extra pounds, but she had lost weight after the . . . miscarriage. How she hated that word. Each day it grew a little easier to say in her mind, but uttering it out loud was almost more than she could bear.
The bedsprings creaked as Annie turned over in her sleep. It felt good to be home, surrounded by all the people she loved and who loved her in return, but there was something wrong, something missing.
She sighed and punched at her pillow, trying her best to get relaxed enough to sleep.
“I know you’re awake.” Annie’s voice was clear and free from the cobwebs of sleep. Perhaps she had been pretending too.
“We need to be resting,” Sarah replied, though her thoughts were anything but peaceful.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“It is a sin to lie, Sarah Miller.”
Sarah Miller. That was her name now. And would be until the day she died. Sh
e had tied her life to Jonah’s, but he didn’t want that connection. What was a girl to do?
“It’s not important,” Sarah finally replied. At least it wasn’t to Jonah. And she couldn’t let any of it be important to her, or her heart would be shattered into a million pieces.
“Do you love him?”
Sarah didn’t bother to ask who she was talking about. “Jah.” Once upon a time she had believed that she had loved him with all her heart. Heavens, had she been wrong. Back then she had only thought she loved him. That was before he had bought her a house and tried to soothe her after the loss of their child. That was before the rides on his tractor, the trip to the county fair and all the wonderful days she had spent with him. Before she had loved him with a young girl’s heart, but now? She loved him as a woman loves a man—wholly, deeply, completely.
“If you love him, then why are you here with me and not home with him?”
Why not? Because she was the only one in love and always had been. And in love alone was no place to be.
* * *
“Jonah, this has to stop.”
He shook his head at his mother’s words. “I’m not doing anything wrong.” It was just after Christmas, and once again he’d met April at his parents’ house. They had sat in the living room discussing their different Christmas traditions and drinking hot cocoa. His family had filed in and out at odd times. His mother knew for a fact that they had just been talking, sitting in opposite chairs as they enjoyed each other’s company.
Didn’t she understand that he just needed a friend? A friend who didn’t judge or cite chapter and verse to him about the sanctity of marriage? His marriage was in trouble. That was no big secret. What he was going to do about it was another matter altogether.
“Everyone’s talking,” Mamm said. “It’s not right.”
“Who other than God can say what is right or wrong?”
“The bishop, the deacon, the church.”
He scoffed. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“Don’t bring her here again,” his mother warned. “If you do, she won’t be welcome in this house.”
Shards of pain shot through his skull as he ground his teeth together. So that was how it was going to be. “Fine,” he growled. “Then I guess I’m not welcome here either.”
He slammed the door and hustled over to his tractor. He was surviving, couldn’t she see that? Why did everyone have to be so judgmental? The English had it right: “Live and let live.”
But you’re not English.
He could be. He had half a mind to pack his stuff and head over to Luke Lambright’s. He knew his longtime friend would find room for him to stay. That would serve them all right. If they couldn’t accept him as he was, then they wouldn’t have him at all.
* * *
“I came to say that I’m sorry.” The words didn’t come easily for Gertie. She took a deep breath and studied Jonah’s face. He looked tired and edgy, as if his heart had no peace.
How could it?
She had waited as long as she could to see if he would come around, but after only two days, she knew she would have to be the one to make amends. That was fine with her as long as she could get Jonah back in the fold.
She had mistakenly thought that giving him an ultimatum would help to bring him around to clear thinking. She had been wrong. Now she was working to repair the damage those impulsive words had cost.
He seemed to think about her apology for a moment, then gave a small nod.
Gertie resisted the urge to sigh in relief. She wasn’t in the clear yet. “Can I come in?” She had forgone the tradition of walking into a loved one’s house, deciding to knock instead. The next move was entirely up to Jonah and would set the course for her little plan.
He paused, then stepped to the side, allowing her to enter.
Gertie stepped over the threshold, grateful for the small measure he had given her. “I brought some banana bread.”
“Danki.” He followed her as she hurried into the kitchen. She wasn’t sure how long he would allow her to stay. Especially after she said what she came to say. When had things gotten so complicated? When had she lost her son? Not when he married Sarah Yoder, but long before that. Maybe even when Henry Kauffman died. She shook her head at herself. That wasn’t even his name, but he was Lorie’s father, and his death had sent her into a spiral of grief and bad choices that had deeply touched Jonah and made him a victim as well.
“Would you like me to make some coffee?” she asked.
“I can do it.” But he shouldn’t have to, Gertie thought as he moved toward the stove. That was his wife’s job, but Sarah wasn’t here, and that was the exact reason for Gertie’s visit.
She sat at the small kitchen table and unwrapped the bread while Jonah went about making coffee. In no time they had their snack of buttered banana bread and a steaming cup of coffee in front of them.
“What’s on your mind?” Jonah asked.
Gertie took another sip of coffee. “That is gut,” she commented, stalling for time. She had to make sure that everything was right. She wouldn’t want to blow this opportunity before she even truly had it in her grasp.
“Jah, it is,” Jonah returned. “But I very much doubt that you came here to discuss my coffee-making skills.”
“Can a mother not visit her son to just pass the time and enjoy his company?” She took another sip and eyed him over the rim of her cup.
His eyes, so very much like her own, were narrowed in speculation. “Tell me why you’re really here.”
Gertie lowered her cup. “Jah, okay then, I’m here to talk about counseling.”
He sat back in surprise. “Counseling?”
“Jah.” She nodded, hoping the idea wasn’t completely out of the question.
“What sort of counseling?”
Gertie leaned forward and took one of his hands in hers. “Jonah, marriage is a sacred endeavor. Everyone in Wells Landing knows that you and Sarah are having difficulties. But it’s time now to correct those problems and look to the future.”
A flash of hurt streaked through his eyes. In less than a heartbeat it was gone, leaving her to wonder if it had ever truly been there at all. “Sarah and I don’t have a future.”
His words broke her heart. She may not have ever wanted the pair to be together, but God had other plans. His will was the most important, and she had to believe that He knew best. “Please tell me that you don’t really believe that.”
He eased his hand out of hers and sat back, away from her. “Jah. I do.”
Gertie shook her head. “You can’t go against God’s will, son.”
“This has nothing to do with God’s will. It was just the mistake of two people who were needing something they couldn’t find anywhere else. God had no hand in it.”
“You’ve been hanging out with the English too much. God has a hand in everything.”
He didn’t want to acknowledge her words. If he did and he was being honest with himself, he would have to admit that she spoke the truth. But he wasn’t ready to examine all the details. Not when Sarah wanted nothing to do with him.
“You’re missing something,” he told his mother.
“What is that?”
“Sarah doesn’t want to be married to me any more than I want to be married to her. Why should I make us both miserable by insisting that we go to counseling?”
“Because she’s your wife. Forever.”
Forever. That was a long time when two people didn’t know how to love one another. “Does it really matter?”
“It does if you want to save your marriage.”
There was nothing to save, but he knew she wouldn’t believe him.
“You can’t just leave your wife, Jonah.”
“I didn’t leave her. She left me.”
“She’s not here,” Mamm pointed out.
He had no response.
“There is no divorce among the Amish. The only way you can walk away from this marria
ge is to go over to the English.”
He snapped his attention to her, teeth clenched in rage. Or was it frustration? “I know, Mamm. Believe me, I know.”
* * *
Jonah watched his mother back out of his driveway, her words still ringing in his ears.
God has a hand in everything.
Did God have a plan for him and Sarah? Did that plan include them living separate lives?
He shook his head. His thoughts were as fanciful as an English fairy tale. Sarah wanted nothing to do with him. She only had scorn for him.
He wished she would listen to him the way April did. April was kind and considerate and didn’t look at him like he’d crawled out from under a rock when he walked into the room.
But Sarah hasn’t always looked at you like that.
He pushed that voice to the side. Sarah might have cared for him once, but she had more than shown him that the time for her love was over. He thought that they had a shot. Everyone knew that they were forced to get married. He had foolishly believed that somehow they could make it work. They would have a baby to bind them together, to keep them focused on the same goals. But all that was over now. The one thing he was certain of was gone in an instant, as if it had never even been there at all.
He had heard the talk around town. He knew what some of the less kind members of their community were saying. No one would dare speak it to his face, but they believed that he had been tricked into marriage with a child who never existed. There was a time, a brief moment when the thought had crossed his mind as well, but after seeing Sarah’s heartbreak, her tears and all-consuming depression, he knew that it was real. At least it had been to her. And that was what made it so sad.
He hadn’t had the time to think about the baby, a breathing, living creature who would be born, walk and talk. A child they could teach their ways and raise in the church. None of those ideas had been real to him, but they had been to Sarah. He could see it in her eyes, yet he was powerless to help her in her grief.
Maybe if it had been real, maybe if he could have helped her, maybe then things would be different and she wouldn’t be back living with her parents with half the district between them.