by Beth Wiseman
“Hmm . . .” Lillian turned back around and busied herself by pulling plates out of boxes. “Uh-oh. This is Katie Ann’s box.” She held up a large, white serving bowl. “This stuff is all hers. Can you run it over there, maybe after you get that smelly refrigerator out of here?”
“That’s me. The runner boy.” David pulled himself off the bench. Lillian walked over, leaned up, and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you, David. Everything is going to be all right. I promise.”
“I know.” He eyed the old refrigerator and sighed.
KATIE ANN STEPPED out of the way so Ivan could pass her in the den. Once again, they’d spoken harshly to each other over a subject that wasn’t worth arguing about. Ivan couldn’t find any suspenders and had insisted that Katie Ann didn’t pack them. She knew she had.
Eventually a silent truce emerged, and they resumed the unpacking.
“Where do you want this box?” He stopped a few feet from her and heaved the box up to get a better grip.
“In the extra bedroom.” She pointed down the hall and watched him march that way. He hadn’t stopped working all day long, barely even ate any lunch. She didn’t have much food to offer since their arrival last night, but she’d scrounged up some bread she’d brought with her and opened a jar of peanut spread. “No, not that bedroom.” She edged toward the hallway. “That’s the baby’s—” She stopped herself. “I mean the sewing room.”
Ivan didn’t even turn around. He just kept going toward the room across from their bedroom. His broad shoulders disappeared around the corner. She waited.
When he never came out of the room, she tiptoed down the hallway and peeked around the corner. Her husband of almost twenty years was sitting in a chair next to the treadle sewing machine, surrounded by boxes. His elbows were propped on his knees, and his hands covered his face.
“Ivan?”
He looked up at her with tired eyes. “I’m just resting for a minute.”
“We don’t have to do all this today. Maybe we could take the buggy to town and have supper out. I’ll do a full round of shopping tomorrow and stock up on everything we need, no?”
He nodded, then slowly stood up. “That sounds fine.” He walked toward her, stopped and patted her arm, then moved out the door.
She rubbed the spot where his hand had just been and fought the buildup of tears in her eyes. She’d been so angry for so long, and now when she tried to put the past behind them, Ivan was as distant as she’d been before they moved.
Please, Lord, bless our new start. Help us to find each other again, to love each other the way a husband and wife should. Give me strength, Lord.
She left the room, but not before turning around and having a good hard look at her sewing room, with all the items necessary to make it just that. Her treadle machine, her comfy chair, baskets of yarn, boxes of material yet to be unpacked . . . Yes, everything to make this into a perfect sewing room. But all she could see—all she’d desired to see for so long—was a baby crib, a dresser with changing table and diaper bag hanging nearby, and tiny little clothes hung neatly on the pegs. But as she neared forty, her vision remained just that . . . a vision. She closed the door.
Her longing for a baby and her struggle with depression had almost cost her their marriage, but she couldn’t reconcile that with what Ivan had done. Somehow she had to find balance, solace, and a way to move forward in her life without a child. A way to mend her marriage. A way to forgive Ivan.
When she walked into the den, Ivan was opening the front door. Her nephew, David, walked in toting a box.
“Mamm said this is yours.” He handed the box to Ivan, who set it against the wall beside a lot of other boxes yet to be unpacked. Katie Ann watched David scan the den, then lean around and peer into the kitchen. “Wow. Nice place compared to ours.” He grinned.
“Tell Lillian that I will help her with that big haus. I know there is much to do.” Katie Ann moved toward David and touched his arm. She could still see him as a teenage boy, sick from kidney failure, which had been the scariest thing her family had ever gone through. And look at him now. A tall, handsome young man.
“I think if Daed can just get her a toilet put in, she’ll be okay.” He chuckled.
David was of marrying age now. She hoped he’d find someone special to share his life with. The thought made her mentally cringe in contrast with her own marriage.
“Does Samuel need me to come over now and help him put in a toilet? Let me get my jacket.” Ivan reached for his black coat thrown over the couch nearby.
“But . . . but I thought we were going to supper.” Katie Ann didn’t miss how fast Ivan put his jacket on and practically pushed David back toward the door.
“I’m sure Lillian has something to eat over there, no?” He turned his attention to David as he reached for his hat.
“Sure. Not much. But we won’t go hungry.” David eased his way out the door, but then stepped back in. “Katie Ann, you wanna come?” Katie Ann stared at the back of Ivan. He continued down the snow-covered sidewalk without even turning around. She forced a smile. “No, David. But danki. I think I’ll eat a sandwich and unpack some more boxes.”
“Okay.” He turned and followed Ivan, closing the door on his way out.
Katie Ann stood on shaky legs, looking at the door. How dare he treat her like this? How dare he blame their discord completely on her? She wasn’t the one who had been unfaithful.
Three
EMILY FINISHED FOLDING A LOAD OF CLOTHES SHE’D piled on the bed, then she headed downstairs to check on Betsy and her two new friends. The youngest Stoltzfus girl was entertaining herself with some of Betsy’s building blocks, but Anna was sitting cross-legged in front of Betsy, her eyes wide.
“The Bible doesn’t say that,” Betsy was saying. She flung her hands in the air. “It says for God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, not forgotten Son.” She shook her head as she pushed the Bible in Anna’s direction. “See?” She pointed to the middle of the page.
Betsy had read the Bible three times cover to cover, but the biggest problem with being a seven-year-old who knew everything was that other seven-year-olds did not.
“Betsy, are you being sweet to your new friends?”
Her little sister sighed, then tipped her chin upward to meet Emily’s eyes. “Of course.”
“I’m thirsty.” Anna rubbed her eyes as she spoke.
Betsy sat up taller. “We’re almost done. ‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not—’ ”
“Betsy! Get your friend a drink if she’s thirsty.” Emily put her hands on her hips. “Be nice.” It was no wonder Betsy had trouble making friends. Her younger sister was sensitive, protective of those she loved, but entirely too smart for her own good and often misguided in her attempts to form friendships.
Betsy closed the book and slowly rose from the floor. “I’ll be right back.” She padded across the wooden floor in her black socks, but before she reached the kitchen, she turned to face Anna. “Do you know how many days it takes to form a habit?”
Emily glanced at Anna while straightening some magazines on the small table next to the rocker, curious what Anna’s response would be to Betsy’s off-the-wall question.
Anna’s sweet little face flushed red, and she tucked her chin. “I don’t know.”
“Betsy, does it really matter?” Emily plopped down in the rocker and sighed. “Go get your friends something to drink. I put some paper cups and a small pitcher of tea on the table for you and your friends earlier.”
“Twenty-one days.” Betsy gave a nod toward them. “It takes twenty-one days of doing a particular task before it becomes a habit.” She spun around on her heels and headed toward the kitchen.
Emily feared Betsy was never going to make real friends.
“I like Betsy.” Anna’s face glowed. “She’s so smart.”
Emily stifled a grin. “Ach, she’s smart all right.” She put her elbo
ws on her knees and leaned closer to Anna. “So, how do you like your new haus?”
Anna bit her bottom lip for a moment. “We don’t have a bathroom.”
“That’s what I heard from your brother.” She leaned back in the rocker. “But isn’t your daed going to put a toilet inside the house?”
“I think so.” Anna leaned back on her hands.
Five-year-old Elizabeth walked to Emily’s side. “It’s stinky in the bathroom in our yard.” She put her hand on the arm of the rocker.
Emily patted Elizabeth’s hand, smiling. “I’m sure your daed will have you an indoor bathroom very soon, no?”
A knock at the door sent Emily’s pulse racing. She’d heard her mother say earlier that David would be coming to pick up his sisters. Both girls raced to the door, and Anna pulled on the knob. “David!”
Emily stood up and walked toward the door and watched as both girls wrapped their arms around their brother’s legs, squealing and carrying on as if they hadn’t seen him in days or weeks. David leaned down and pulled them into a group hug.
He seems like a good man.
“Did you girls have fun?”
Anna pulled away from him and stood tall. “Did you know that it takes twenty-one days to form a habit?” Her bright blue eyes sparkled.
David looked Emily’s way for the first time, smiled, then looked back at Anna. “Is that so?”
Emily shrugged, looked at David briefly, but quickly pulled her gaze away. “A little something she learned from Betsy.”
Betsy entered the room toting two paper cups. “Here.” She offered one to Anna and one to Elizabeth.
“ters, so Emily allowed her eyes to drift in his direction. She jumped when she heard the back door slam and turned to see her mother lugging in two logs from the woodpile out back.Danki,” they both answered as they eased away from their brother and accepted the drinks. David was watching his sis
“Going to be cold tonight.” Mamm stopped when she saw David, and her voice oozed as she spoke his name. “David, how gut to see you. I see you’ve come for the girls.”
David narrowed the gap between them. “Here, let me.” He lifted the logs from Mamm.
“Why, danki, David.” Her syrupy tone evoked an eye roll from Emily. She watched David place the logs in the carrier next to the fireplace.
“David, do we have a toilet yet? Did room?” Little Elizabeth tugged on her brother’s pant leg.Daed make us a bath
David scooped her into his arms. “Daed and Onkel Ivan are working on that right now.”
“Yay!” Anna jumped in the air.
Betsy crossed the room and stood right in front of Anna. “Next time we will go over Corinthians, and—”
“Betsy, I’m sure Anna doesn’t want to have Bible study every time she comes over.” Emily frowned at her sister, but Anna reached out and grabbed both of Betsy’s hands. To Emily’s surprise, Betsy didn’t pull away and instead just smiled.
“I don’t mind.” Anna faced Betsy as the girls swung their hands from side to side. “I like to learn things from Betsy.”
Betsy’s face lit up, and it warmed Emily’s heart. But this would mean seeing David more, and that was something she was confused about. His sisters clearly adored him, and he’d certainly won over her mother. But that made him all the more dangerous for her to be around. If he truly was a good person, someone she could care about, then there would be nothing but heartache in it for her. She was damaged. Ruined for any man. She reached up and touched the scar on her head, wishing instantly that she hadn’t. When she pulled her hand down, she glanced at David. His expression was filled with pity, and that’s one thing she didn’t need.
“Excuse me.” She turned to head up the stairs.
“See you Sunday, Emily.”
That’s what you said this morning, yet here you are already.
She didn’t turn around.
BETH WISEMAN 40
VERA WATCHED AS David loaded Anna and Elizabeth into the buggy, and she wondered what really had brought his family to Canaan. Lillian had said they all needed a fresh start, but Vera recognized the hesitancy in Lillian’s voice. How many times over the past three months had Vera responded this same way when someone questioned their move from Middlefield? She waved from the porch as David and the girls pulled out, then she headed back inside to see that Emily had returned from upstairs. Her daughter was curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, with the familiar sense of sadness in her expression that kept Vera up at night. She sat down beside Emily.
“Where’s Betsy?” Vera tucked one leg under herself and twisted to face Emily.
“She went upstairs. She said she was going to read a book.”
Vera sighed. “I hope it’s one we’ve approved.” She shook her head. “That maedel just can’t seem to soak up enough knowledge, but I don’t want her reading about the wrong things.”
They sat quietly for a moment, and Emily was far away, in a place that didn’t exist until three months ago, and Vera longed for a way to make everything the way it was before.
“Do you know what I think we need?” She gave Emily a quick pat on the leg, then stood up. “We need a slice of snitz pie with a big scoop of ice cream on it.” She shrugged. “So what if it’s snowing outside. Pie and ice cream sounds gut just the same.”
“I don’t want any, Mamm.” Emily continued to stare into nothingness, and Vera recalled a time when Emily thought there wasn’t an ailment that snitz pie and ice cream wouldn’t cure.
“Are you sure? Because you know when your daed and Levi get home, they’re going to dive into the rest of that pie, and we’ll be lucky to get any at all.”
“I’m sure.” Emily tucked her bare feet beneath her dress as she stayed curled up on the couch.
“You need socks on, Emily. I’ll go get you some.” Vera turned to head up the stairs.
“Mamm, I don’t need socks. I don’t need pie. I’m fine.” Emily straightened her legs out and put her feet on the floor. She gazed up at her mother. “I’m going to go upstairs and take a bath before Levi gets home and hogs the bathroom.”
Emily stood up, and Vera watched her trudge up the stairs as if taking a bath was her most dreaded chore. That’s how Emily approached everything these days.
Please, Lord, let her forgive, forget, and move forward.
Though she tried to keep it out of her mind, Vera found herself thinking about what had happened to her daughter. It made her weak in the knees. And at those times she allowed herself to visualize it, she felt nauseous and angry beyond anything that God would approve of. With each wicked image of her baby girl being taken advantage of in such a way, Vera found herself having thoughts that were not in line with her upbringing, which was something that kept forgiveness just out of her reach.
AFTER HER EARLY bath, Emily closed the door to her room, thankful that she didn’t share a room with Betsy, as she’d done in Middlefield. This house was no bigger than the one back home, but was laid out in such a way that five small bedrooms allowed each one of them to have their own space.
She laid down on her bed and cupped her hands behind her head, knowing she didn’t have long before it would be time to help her mother with supper. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of food, but she already knew that once she sat down to eat, she wouldn’t feel hungry anymore. The image of James sitting across from her at the diner would always slam into her mind, and she’d lose any appetite she’d worked up.
She recalled how flattered she’d been when James asked her to go on a real date. What she wouldn’t give to go back in time. Her first mistake had been to lie to her parents about her whereabouts. She’d never lied to her folks, or anyone, prior to that. But she knew her father wouldn’t have approved of her missing her Uncle Abram’s birthday supper to go on a date with James Miller or anyone else. That’s why God had punished her. For lying.
Emily recalled her words exactly. “Daed, I’m sick to my stomach. I’m not going to be able to go tonight.
” Her mother had come into her room shortly after, toting a tray with chicken soup, crackers, and hot tea, which only added to her building guilt. But it was James Miller. She had to go. And it was only a few blocks walking distance to the small diner where they’d planned to meet.
She clamped her eyes closed and fought the onslaught of images dumping into her thoughts. A simple kiss. Her first kiss. A kiss that went terribly wrong.
Every horrible detail was carved into her mind.
She repeated the words she’d said over and over since that night in September.
“I forgive you, James. I forgive you.”
Hopefully someday she would mean it.
But she would never tell. She’d never tell who her attacker was. The policemen had questioned her over and over again and said there would be a meeting in front of a judge to decide what would happen to the person who’d hurt Emily. She wasn’t sure she heard everything the policeman said that day, but she did hear the part about how she would have to tell a roomful of people what James did to her, and that was more than she would be able to bear. And what would James’s parents think? Would James be shunned? Neither Emily nor the members of their small district would have been able to endure it. So she told yet another lie. “I took a walk to get some fresh air,” she’d said. “And . . . I didn’t know him . . .”
Emily heard her father and Levi talking with her mother downstairs, so she slowly rose from the bed to go help with supper. On her way down the stairs, she bumped into Levi coming up. As usual, he avoided looking at her. Was the scar on her face so repelling that her own brother couldn’t look at her? She’d even overheard their mother speaking to him about his attitude, saying that he needed to act as normal as possible and to stop looking so sullen.
That was Mamm’s answer. Pretend it didn’t happen, and it will eventually go away.
Emily didn’t think so.
When she entered the kitchen, her father was removing his black coat and black felt hat, both dotted with melted snow. He turned in her direction.
“Mei maedel, how was your day?”