by Amy Clipston
“Ya,” she whispered, studying her half-full mug. “He’s a gut friend. He lost his fraa in childbirth a few years ago, so we have a lot in common. I enjoy talking with him.”
“Oh?” He studied her. Why was she avoiding his stare? Was the warm friendship he’d felt earlier dissolving back into the cold front she’d had earlier?
She looked up at him, and something flashed in her eyes. Was it sadness? Or possibly worry? Her expression softened.
She placed her mug on the tray. “How do you like Bird-in-Hand?” She lifted her plate and took a bite of the pie.
“It’s a beautiful place.” Leaning back on the swing, he stretched his arm behind her. “I was thinking about staying awhile.” He held his breath, awaiting her reaction, hoping for her approval.
“Really?” She turned to him, her eyes wide. “How long?”
“I’m not certain.” He ran his fingers along the wood back of the swing. “I like it here, so I thought I’d see how it goes.”
Her eyebrows knitted with confusion. “Are you going to move here permanently?”
He shrugged. “We’ll see.”
She turned back to the field, and a comfortable silence fell between them. He wished he could sit next to her forever, just enjoying her company.
After a moment, she took a few more bites of the pie, then returned the plate to the tray. With her eyes trained on the field, she took a deep breath. “I need to ask you something,” she whispered.
Luke nodded. “You can ask me anything.”
“You told me Peter hadn’t been honest about his past, and I can see that truth just by looking at your face.” Her voice was soft, her eyes still focused on the field across from where they sat. “I need to know more, but yet I’m afraid to ask. I’m worried that hearing my husband lied about…everything…will be too much to handle.”
“I understand,” he said. Sitting up straight, he prepared himself for the questions. He wanted to tell her the truth, and yet he didn’t want to hurt her. He vowed to frame his answers in order to not cause her more pain.
She met his gaze, her expression cautious. “Were you and Peter close?”
He nodded. “We were.”
“He wasn’t an orphan, was he?” She bit her lip in anticipation of the answer.
“No,” he shook his head.
Closing her eyes, she brought her hand to her temple and groaned. “Oh, Luke, I don’t understand why he did this to me. It doesn’t make sense. Why didn’t he trust me?”
Luke started to reach for her and then stopped, knowing it was inappropriate for him to touch her, even just to console her. “I’m sorry I upset you, Sarah Rose. That’s the last thing I wanted to do by coming to visit tonight.”
She met his gaze. “It’s not your fault.” She looked toward to the field again. “Did he have siblings?”
Luke paused, knowing the truth would be painful, but not wanting to withhold information. Peter had already done too much damage to her heart with his deception. “Ya,” he said.
“Are they living?” Her voice trembled.
“Ya,” he whispered.
Her hands framed her stomach, and her expression was pensive. “My zwillingbopplin will want to know them.”
“I agree.” He prayed her questions would end before the answers became too distressing.
She faced him, her brows furrowed in question. “Why did he leave Ohio if he had a family? Did he have a falling out with a family member?”
Luke nodded. “Ya.”
Her eyes widened with shock. “Who?”
Luke stared at her, wanting to tell her the truth, the whole truth. But his gut told him to filter the information and give only the bare minimum that she needed to know.
“His father?” she guessed.
Luke swallowed a sigh of relief, thankful she’d guessed correctly. “Ya.”
Sarah shook her head, her expression softening. “How sad. I wish I had gotten to meet his family.” She rubbed her belly. “But maybe the kinner will get to meet them. They may have lost their father, but maybe they can get to know his family.”
Luke nodded, wishing he could tell her more without hurting her.
“How many siblings did he have?” she asked.
The clip-clop of hooves crunching up the rock driveway traveled toward them.
“It must be Timothy.” She faced the oncoming horse. “He visited Norman tonight and must’ve stayed for supper.”
Luke silently thanked Timothy for saving him from answering her question about Peter’s siblings. Instead, he watched as Timothy stopped in front of Eli’s barn and unhitched the horse.
Sarah cleared her throat.
“Sarah.” Luke glanced at her. “Are you okay?”
Meeting his stare, she sighed. “I’ll be fine. I’m trying to convince myself not to be angry, but I keep wondering if my marriage was a mockery. I feel as if I didn’t know my husband at all.”
He frowned, guilt nipping at him. “I’m sorry. I never meant to upset you. I just want you to know the truth.”
She gave him a sad smile. “Danki. I appreciate it.”
“Wie geht’s?” Timothy’s voice boomed as his boots scraped up the porch steps. He gave his sister a friendly nod and then frowned at Luke. “Isn’t it a bit late to be visiting my sister?”
“I was just getting ready to leave.” Luke folded his hands in his lap. “Beautiful evening.”
“Ya.” Timothy turned back to his sister. “Could I possibly speak with you before you retire for the evening?” He shot another frown at Luke. “In private, Sarah Rose.”
Not wanting to wear out his welcome, Luke stood. “I guess I should be heading back to the house.”
Sarah placed her hands on the swing and started to heave herself up.
“No, no.” Luke shook his head. “Don’t get up. We can say good night here.”
She pulled the coat from her shoulders and handed it to him. “Here. Danki.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled. “Thank you for dessert and the pleasant conversation.”
She nodded, and he wished he could steal the sadness from her eyes. Again, he wondered how Peter had snatched up such a lovely wife. Had Peter appreciated her? Perhaps not, since he hadn’t told her the truth about his past. Or maybe he’d worried the truth would scare her away.
“I’ll see you soon.” He pulled on his coat. “Sleep well.” Turning to Timothy, he nodded. “Have a good evening.”
Timothy nodded in response.
“Gut nacht,” Sarah called as he headed down the stairs.
As he ambled down the rock driveway to Sarah’s and Peter’s home, he contemplated his evening with Sarah.
He wished he could take away the pain in her heart that the stories of Peter caused. However, he knew in the depths of his soul he was doing the right thing by telling her the truth. He hoped her questions and her openness were signs that she was beginning to trust him.
Sarah’s gaze remained glued on Luke’s silhouette as he strode through the shadows toward her house. She hugged her arms while concentrating on the information Luke had shared about Peter’s past. While the news that Peter had lied about being an orphan caused her more heartache, another question came to the forefront: could she trust everything Luke had told her about Peter? She shivered.
Timothy took off his coat and sat next to her. “Would you like my coat?”
“No, danki. I’m fine.” She shivered again.
“Don’t be gegisch.” He covered her shoulders with his coat. “Your lips are turning blue.” He chuckled at his joke.
“It’s not that cold,” she muttered, snuggling into the warmth of the jacket. “You were with Norman’s family, yes?”
“Ya.” He glanced down at the tray. “I hope you saved me some crumbly peach pie. You know it’s my favorite.”
“Of course I saved you some,” she said. “I always do.”
“What were you thinking?” he said suddenly, his tone accusing.
; “What?” She gave him a confused look.
“Why were you sitting out here in the dark, sharing dessert with…him?” He spat out the last word.
“I was talking with our guest, Timothy. Why is that so bad?”
“Don’t tell me you trust him, Sarah Rose.”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes and pushed an errant strand of hair back from her face. “You can let go of your gegisch accusations. Why wouldn’t I trust him?” At least, I hope I can trust him.
Timothy’s expression softened. “Please be careful, Sarah Rose. I don’t want to see you get hurt. I’m worried about you and the zwillingbopplin.”
“Timothy!” Mamm appeared in the doorway. “Have some pie.” She turned her gaze to Sarah and frowned. “Sarah Rose, get in here before you catch a cold.”
Hoisting herself up, Sarah picked up the tray from the little table beside her and headed through the door. Stepping into the kitchen, she wondered if her life would somehow get easier. She yearned to squelch all of the confusing feelings that rained down on her. She hoped the Lord would lead her toward the truth about Peter’s past—and also about Luke Troyer.
9
Sarah slathered cream-cheese frosting on another rhubarb cookie and yawned. The news of Peter’s life in Ohio, along with her brother’s words of caution about Luke, had haunted her throughout the night. Even more than before, she’d found herself doubting her marriage to Peter. Had she known him at all?
Had anything he’d told her been the truth?
Snippets of possible dishonesty flashed through her mind. She’d heard from family members that Peter had been spotted at the Bird-in-Hand post office at odd times during the day. He had also been very quiet and distant from her days before the fire.
What else had he been hiding from her?
The questions soaked her mind while she finished icing the cookies. She was wrapping the cookies in packages of three when her mother came up behind her.
“Those look absolutely scrumptious, Sarah Rose,” she said. “Nice work.”
“Danki.” Sarah wiped her hands on a towel. “I need to sit now.”
“Ya. Let’s find a quiet spot to sit and talk.” Taking Sarah’s arm, Mamm led her to the small back room that served as the bakery’s office, with a desk, file cabinet, adding machine, and ledgers. A stack of receipts sat on the corner of the desk.
“Have a seat, Sarah Rose.” Mamm gestured toward the chair in front of the desk. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Sinking into the chair, Sarah suppressed a groan at her mother’s serious tone. She didn’t want to be coddled. She had too much on her mind already. “I’m fine, Mamm.”
Her mother’s blue eyes were warm and supportive, breaking down the wall Sarah was building around her heart. “I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s going on. I know it’s more than hormones, Sarah Rose. Won’t you let me help you through this?”
Sarah’s heart pounded in her chest, but she merely shrugged to shield her nerves.
Mamm touched her hands. “Sarah Rose, did Luke tell you something last night that upset you?”
Sarah’s eyes immediately began to water. “He told me Peter wasn’t an orphan. He was raised by his parents with siblings. He left Ohio and came here because he’d had a fight with his father.”
“Ack, Sarah Rose.” Mamm pulled her into her arms and held her close. “I’m sorry you’re hurting.”
“I’m trying to sort through it all, but I keep thinking my whole marriage was a lie.” Her voice quavered as tears spilled down first one cheek, then the other.
“No, no. Don’t say that,” Mamm cooed in her ear.
“I’m remembering things Peter did that made me wonder if something was wrong. Perhaps the signs were there all along. He was so cold and distant the last few weeks before the fire. Maybe he was hiding more from me.”
“Sarah Rose, you have to stop beating yourself up over this,” Mamm said. He’s not here to explain why he did what he did, and speculating will only cause your heart to hurt even more.”
Wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands, Sarah looked at her mother. “But what about the kinner? What do I tell them when they ask about their father? What kind of a man do I tell them he was when I don’t know for certain myself?”
“The words will come to you when the time is right.” Mamm rested her hands on Sarah’s shoulders. “The Lord will lead your lips to the right words. Have faith in that.”
“What is faith, Mamm?” Sarah wished her voice would stop trembling. “What is it really?”
“Hebrews 11:1 tells us, ‘Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.’” She squeezed Sarah’s hand. “Does that help you at all?”
Sarah nodded to appease her mother, but the questions still haunted her. “And what about Luke? How do I know if I can believe him?”
“What does your heart tell you?”
“My heart is a jumbled mess. I’m not sure what it’s telling me at all.” Sarah gazed down at her lap. “I just keep thinking I’m too young to be a widow and a single mother. It somehow doesn’t seem fair.”
“But you have a family who loves you and will take care of you. That’s more than some people have.”
Sarah frowned, feeling like a heel for complaining. “Danki. I do appreciate and love you, but I’m not sure what to think about Luke.”
“Listen to what he has to tell you and then see what your heart says.”
Sarah nodded, but she still needed answers. She had to figure out how to get past her grief and understand what God’s plan was for her and the children. Please God, she prayed silently, please show me the right path for my zwillingbopplin.
“You do good work,” Luke said as he examined the triple dresser. “Your grossdaddi taught you well.” Glancing around, he examined the shop, thinking how similar it was to his own back home.
The large, open area was divided into work areas separated by workbenches cluttered with an array of tools. The sweet scent of wood and stain filled his nostrils. The men working around Jake and him were building beautifully designed dining room sets, bedroom suites, entertainment centers, hutches, end tables, desks, and coffee tables.
Hammers banged, saw blades whirled, and air compressors hummed. Just like his shop back home, the air compressors powering the tools ran off diesel generators.
Returning Luke’s nod, Jake Miller swiped the back of his hand across his brow. “Thanks for the compliment. You do good work too.” He leaned back on the workbench and grabbed a bottle of water. After a long gulp, he placed it on the bench beside him. “So, you’re from Ohio, huh?”
“Ya.” Luke sat on a bench and opened a can of Coke. “Middlefield.”
“I didn’t realize Peter had grown up in Ohio. I wonder why he didn’t tell anyone about his family back home.”
Rubbing his lower lip, Luke contemplated how much to reveal about Peter’s history. “I guess you could say he was running from some things in his past.”
“Why hide the past?” Jake wondered. “Peter had a great life here. He and Sarah seemed so happy. I can’t see how telling where he came from would ruin that. I think it would be more detrimental and risky to create a web of lies you have to remember so you don’t flub it.”
A smile crept across Luke’s lips. “You’re a very wise young man.”
Grinning, Jake stood. “I try.”
“So, what’s your story?” Luke asked.
“Well, I live about a mile up the road in half of a two-story house my uncle owns, and I love working on furniture. That’s about it.”
“Do you have a special maedel in your life?”
Jake shrugged. “I guess you could say I have a girl. At least, she’s special to me. She moved back home to Virginia, but she’s supposed to come visit in the spring.”
“Oh?” Luke grabbed a can of stain.
“She’s Lindsay’s older sister, Jessica.” Jake grabbed a paintbrush from his tool cart. “We met last
summer when she came to live with Rebecca and Daniel. She wanted to go back home to live with her mom’s best friend and finish high school. I’m hoping I can convince her to go to college in Pennsylvania, so we have a chance to get to know each other better. She’s got another year of high school yet, though.”
“She’s English?” Luke asked.
“Yup.” Jake grinned. “She’s a great girl.”
“You seem smitten.” Luke shook the can of stain and then opened and stirred it.
The young man chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I am. I just wish she’d realize how smitten I am and give me a chance.”
“Luke,” a voice behind him called.
Turning, Luke spotted Timothy frowning near the door to the parking lot. He wondered idly if that man went through life with a dark cloud over his head.
“Can I speak with you for a moment?” Timothy asked, motioning toward the door.
“Ya.” Luke cut his eyes to Jake. “I’ll be back to help you stain this.”
Jake took the can of stain from him. “No problem. Take your time.”
Luke crossed the shop and followed Timothy out to the parking lot, where they stood by a pile of scrap wood. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“I’d like to know what your intentions are with my sister.”
“My intentions?” Luke gripped his suspenders. “I reckon I intend to become her friend so I can be a part of her zwillingbopplin’s lives. That’s as far as my intentions go. I don’t see why you have a problem with that.”
“My problem is, Sarah is in a fragile state, and she doesn’t need you showing up here and confusing her.” He gestured wildly for emphasis. “She’s suffered a huge loss, and you don’t need to be sticking your nose in her business.”
Luke shook his head while trying to make sense of Timothy’s anger. “I don’t understand why you have this resentment toward me. I lost Peter too.” He studied Timothy for a moment. “How much did Peter tell you?”
Timothy shrugged and looked away. “Enough.”
“Why don’t you try being more specific? I’d like to know why you know more than everyone else in your family. Were you and Peter close?”