It was time to marry again, whether she was ready or not. She needed the stability for herself and her daughters. She couldn’t have them growing up in the shadow of her mistakes, and a marriage to a sober and good man would help to make up for that.
“We’ll find Jonathan and set him straight,” Levi said curtly.
“I hope so . . .” she said.
Because she wasn’t sure what she’d do if he didn’t leave. What if he decided to stay in Abundance? What if he spread more rumors? What if he got vengeful? The elders could help, of course, but she’d be tarnished for life in both communities. She’d tried to break up Jonathan and Mary once, and it would be incredibly ironic if she actually succeeded nearly a decade later when she wanted nothing to do with the man.
The ride into town felt long, and when they finally parked the buggy and set the horses with their feed bags, Rosmanda’s heart was fluttering with anxiety. Every person they passed seemed to be staring at her—although they probably weren’t. Just a look, a nod, a hello. It all felt invasive right now. How much did people know? How much did they believe?
Rosmanda stood by the buggy until Levi was finished, and then she joined him at his side as they headed toward the small diner.
“Would it have been better to bring him back to the house?” Rosmanda asked.
“To keep you out of sight?” Levi asked, then shook his head. “Stand straight. Look people in the face. Smile. You’re not the one at fault here.”
Yah, she understood that, and maybe he was right. Let people see her looking happy and confident. Let them question if Jonathan could even be right when they looked at her. But that was easier said than done.
Levi nodded to a woman in passing. “Good morning.”
It was Merideth Lapp—a distant cousin of her in-laws. Her gaze skimmed past Levi and landed with open curiosity and a hint of judgment on Rosmanda.
“Good morning,” Rosmanda said, shooting Merideth a smile and carrying on.
“Just like that . . .” Levi murmured. “Keep that up.”
She felt a little better. Maybe she could do this. Maybe she could pass a few rumors of her own about that strange man from Morinville who had developed an unhealthy obsession with her. This story didn’t have to be Jonathan’s. She could tell it herself.
But it seemed obvious that the story about her had spread if Merideth Lapp was staring like that. And bringing Jonathan quietly to the farm wasn’t going to fix the damage he’d already done to her reputation.
“After you,” Levi said, pulling open the door to the diner, and Rosmanda stepped inside first, glancing around the establishment until her gaze stopped at a table in a far corner. Jonathan sat there with a cup of coffee in front of him and a Budget newspaper in front of him. He looked smaller, somehow. Older. He was in his mid-thirties, and she’d always associated some amount of wisdom and respect to men who were older than she was, but Jonathan seemed to be lacking in both. His body had aged, but his reputation and esteem had not.
Rosmanda hesitated, and she felt Levi’s warm hand at her back, nudging her forward. She’d rather lean into his touch, but she wouldn’t. It was up to her to do this. So she headed through the tables and stopped at Jonathan’s. He slowly looked up, and when he saw her, some of the blood drained from his face.
“Rosie—”
“Don’t call me that,” she said curtly, then pulled the chair out opposite him and sat down. Levi did the same, and as he sat next to her, she felt the warmth of his knee touch hers. “I brought my brother-in-law with me today to act as a witness to this conversation.”
Jonathan glanced over at Levi uncertainly and Levi met his gaze with a granite stare.
“What have you been telling people?” she demanded, lowering her voice.
“Nothing that wasn’t true.” Jonathan licked his lips. “I think I want more coffee—” He began to raise his hand to summon the waitress.
“No, you don’t,” Levi growled, and Levi’s hand froze, then lowered. “You’re just fine, and you want to hear her out.”
“I’m here now,” Rosmanda said. “What do you want, exactly?”
Jonathan sighed. “To talk to you. Alone. But you wouldn’t even give me that.”
“We did talk alone,” she said.
“That was . . . unfair. It was short, and you ended our conversation angry. I wanted a real discussion”—his gaze flickered toward Levi—“alone.”
“About what, though?” she pressed. “What do we have to talk about?”
“Everything.” Levi shrugged. “I have your letters still. You wrote to me very openly about your feelings, about your hardships. You wanted to talk to me—I didn’t imagine that.”
“I was grieving,” she said.
“Maybe I am, too.”
Rosmanda sighed.
“Let me order you coffee,” Jonathan said quietly. “At least.”
“No—” Levi started, but Rosmanda put a hand on his arm. Levi caught her gaze but didn’t say anything. Now was not the time to make a point—she’d done that already. Now was the time to send this man home. And she wouldn’t get him there without hearing him out.
“Thank you, Jonathan. We’ll both take a cup,” Rosmanda said quietly.
After the waitress poured two more cups of coffee and left them, Rosmanda leaned forward.
“What’s happening, Jonathan?” she asked. “What went wrong?”
Jonathan’s gaze dropped down to his cup, and he turned it on the tabletop slowly. “She knows the worst.”
“What’s that?” Rosmanda asked.
“That I loved you more.” He pressed his lips together. “I was drinking, and we were arguing over something stupid, and I—” He sighed. “I said more than I should. I told her that I’d wanted to marry you, and that I’d been forced to marry her, and—”
He didn’t finish the story, simply let it hang there. Rosmanda’s heart thudded to a stop. Poor Mary . . . to have a husband who had openly told her that he’d loved another woman more than her.
“But you were drinking,” she said.
“Yah, but she believed me.” Jonathan looked up at her. “I’ve been sleeping on a cot in the boys’ room ever since.”
“How long ago was that?” she asked.
“She was five months pregnant with our youngest when I said those things,” Jonathan replied. “And our daughter is three weeks old now.”
“And you’ve been gone for one full week,” Rosmanda said, shaking her head. “She’s been on her own with those kinner.”
“Her mother came to help. Mary’s fine.”
“She’s not fine with her husband gone,” Rosmanda said. “Trust me on that.”
“Then she shouldn’t have kicked me out of our bedroom!” Anger glinted in Jonathan’s eyes. “To have me sleep with the kinner? What am I, a child? I came out here to see you. To . . . hopefully see more of you. But I see that won’t happen.”
“No, it won’t,” Rosmanda breathed.
“All the same . . .” Jonathan drew in a shaking breath. “She’s told her parents about all of this—about the fight, about what I said. Her mamm and daet know, and they see me differently now. There’s no respect there anymore.”
“Oh, Jonathan,” she sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“So you can see why I can’t just go back,” Jonathan said with a weak shrug. “How?”
“How much do you drink?” Levi asked, interjecting for the first time.
Jonathan looked over at him in mild surprise. “What?”
“Were you drinking a lot?” he asked. “Daily?”
“Yah, a bit here and there.” Jonathan shrugged. “More than I should.”
“And stopping—you couldn’t, right?” Levi pressed.
“I could stop,” Jonathan said with a short laugh. “If I’d wanted to.”
But he hadn’t stopped—not even to save his marriage. Rosmanda could see where Levi was coming from on this, but how he’d seen it, she had no idea. Levi reached into hi
s pocket and pulled out what looked like a coin—but it was blue, and attached to a leather cord. He put it down in front of Jonathan, who picked it up and looked at it.
“What’s this?”
“A sobriety coin,” Levi said. “It’s for an Englisher group called Alcoholics Anonymous. That’s my six-month coin.”
“You were drinking, too—” Jonathan said.
“I spent every night in the bar. And it was because of my drinking that my brother is dead.” His voice shook slightly. “I go to the meeting Monday nights. They help you to take these steps that keep you away from the booze when you can’t do it on your own.”
Rosmanda looked over at him, stunned. He was in an Englisher group for alcoholics? She had no idea . . . but he did seem to be staying away from the booze—at least she’d never seen him drink after the funeral. Or heard of him drunk at the bar again.
“To thy own self be true—” Jonathan read on the coin.
“It’s their saying,” Levi said. “Part of the recovery.”
“What do you think I’m trying to do right now?” Jonathan asked bitterly, handing the coin back. “I’m being true to myself. I don’t need your Englisher group.”
“If you stay here, you’ll lose everything,” Rosmanda said. “Your wife does love you.”
“My wife knows the worst of me, and she’s put me out of her bed,” Jonathan retorted. “If she loved me once, she doesn’t anymore. My own sons see me crawl into a cot at night, the door shut on all of us.”
“What will you do, then?” Levi asked. “If you don’t go back, your kinner will grow up knowing that their daet left them.”
“My kinner have no respect for their daet this way,” Jonathan replied quietly. “I speak, and they look to their mother to see if they should listen.”
“Will you go English, then?” Levi asked. “Because you know your choice here. Go back to your wife, or be shunned. There won’t be any middle ground.”
Jonathan didn’t answer, and Rosmanda took a sip of the lukewarm coffee in front of her. It was bitter, much like her heart right now. She looked over at Levi, who was staring grimly at the table.
“Please don’t ruin me, Jonathan,” she whispered, her voice tight with emotion. “I’m sorry that your marriage has gone so terribly. I am. I’d really thought you’d be happy with Mary. But if you stay here, I’ll be utterly ruined. And I have children to worry about.”
“You want me to go home,” Jonathan said woodenly.
What she wanted was for him to go away. She hadn’t cared where he went, but looking at him now, she did pity him. Back in Morinville, Mary was a wreck. And she’d need her husband’s financial support to raise those kinner. Jonathan and Mary had taken vows, for better or for worse, and they were joined. Marriage before God was for life.
Marriage wasn’t always sweet. It could be bitter and difficult, too. That was why Rosmanda was so deeply grateful that she’d missed marrying Jonathan Yoder, after all. A good, solid, emotionally distant husband would be better than the likes of Jonathan. God had put His protective hand over her . . . A renewed sense of gratefulness for that undeserved protection rose up inside of her.
“Your wife needs you, Jonathan,” she said quietly. “Even if she doesn’t want you right now. Life is long. Marriage is long. There is more ahead than is behind. Go back home to her. See if you can start over.”
Jonathan was silent for a moment, but she saw something change in his expression . . . He was softening. Or perhaps he saw there was no other choice.
“I won’t sleep in the boys’ room again. If I go back, I’m going to sleep in my own bed, whether she joins me or not.”
“Do you have enough money to get a ticket?” Levi asked quietly.
Jonathan glanced over, then slowly shook his head. Levi dug in his pocket again and pulled out a wad of bills.
“Come on, then,” Levi said. “We’ll get your bag and I’ll buy your bus ticket.”
Jonathan cast Rosmanda a sad smile. “I really did love you, Rosie . . .”
Had he? He’d been “loving” two women at once back when Rosmanda was too young to have any perspective. And now that his wife was giving him trouble, he was back. It wasn’t quite the definition of love that would be tempting for her. It was an escape. It was panic.
Levi stood up, and when she started to rise, he shook his head.
“We men will take care of the rest,” Levi said softly. “Drink your coffee. I’ll come back and get you in a few minutes.”
And Rosmanda was suddenly deeply grateful for Levi right now, too. He was a man to take care of the men’s domain, to protect her reputation, to help her clean up this mess and get Jonathan out of town. She nodded and watched the men leave, then she leaned back in her seat, her mind spinning.
Take care of Jonathan, Lord, she prayed in her heart. Take care of Mary, too....
Rosmanda didn’t even know what to ask for her old friends. But she did know what to ask for herself. She needed a solid, pious man to marry her. And she’d be grateful for him. She’d cook his meals and mend his clothes. She’d scrub his house to a shine and lovingly tend to his family. And if she lay in bed at night next to a snoring old man who smelled of bad breath and ill health, she’d remind herself that it could be infinitely worse. She’d be grateful for a redeemed reputation, and for a chance to prove herself good once more. And she’d be grateful for her daughters’ second chance.
Safety and security were key. She had to attain them for her daughters’ sakes.
And the kinds of kisses that seared through her veins would simply have to be put aside.
Poor, poor Mary.
* * *
When Levi and Jonathan arrived at the bus station, Levi went to the ticket booth and inquired about tickets to Morinville. There was a bus leaving for Morinville arriving in a few minutes. Levi looked over his shoulder at the other man. He stood there, his suitcase beside him, his arms crossed over his chest. Was that defiance? It was hard to tell.
“One ticket for Morinville, please,” Levi said. “I’ll pay cash.”
When he had the ticket in hand, he jutted his chin toward the plastic seat, and Jonathan followed him in that direction. They sat down together, Jonathan’s suitcase in front of him.
“You don’t have to watch me like this,” Jonathan said quietly.
“It’ll make us all feel a bit better,” Levi replied. He’d be able to report back to his parents and to Rosmanda that the man had been shuttled out of town.
“To see the back of me?” Jonathan laughed bitterly.
Yah, but it was rude to say.
“What had you thought would happen coming here?” Levi asked instead.
“I don’t know. I just wanted to see her.”
“You’re married, though. What could you offer her?” Levi pressed.
“You don’t know what it was like with Rosmanda . . .” Jonathan sighed. “I know it was a long time ago . . .” Jonathan shrugged. “Sometimes it isn’t about a logically thought-out plan. Sometimes a man just hurts so much he wants a little comfort.”
Yah, Levi did know what it was like with Rosmanda, but when Jonathan had known her, she’d been little more than a girl. She’d had a woman’s body perhaps, but she’d been a sixteen-year-old girl nevertheless. Whatever Jonathan had felt for her, whatever he’d awoken in her, it hadn’t been that of equal adults.
But Levi could understand that search for comfort. It was the reason he’d turned to booze—the liquid comfort. He’d known it was ruining him. He’d known how people looked at him. He’d known he was an embarrassment to his family and his community, but it was the last thing that could comfort him.
Even now, he felt that pull toward the bar. He’d skipped the last couple of meetings, and that was a mistake. He could hold himself back from the drink now, but there were days that he clung to that medallion in his pocket, reminding himself that he could go one more hour, one more day. Sometimes a man could ruin himself for a little comfort.
“You could have gone to the elders, the bishop, gotten some help with your marriage,” Levi said.
“No.”
“Why not?” Levi demanded, the words tasting bitter. “It’s what the Amish do. You’re married for life. You knew that when you took the vows.”
“Mary knows the worst of me, you know?” Jonathan glanced over. “Do you know what that’s like to have a woman look at you with disgust in her eyes when she’s figured you out?”
It wasn’t disgust, exactly . . . but he’d seen Rosmanda change in the way she looked at him. She’d gone cold, and he hadn’t been able to figure out why . . . She’d simply stepped back, and the gulf between them had hurt more than anything had hurt before.
“Yah, I think I do,” Levi admitted.
“My wife used to look at me like the one who filled her whole heart,” Jonathan said. “She’d wait by the window for me to come home from work, and my meal would be warm in the oven, she’d ask if I’d missed her . . .”
“Had you?” Levi asked.
Jonathan shrugged. “A little. I guess. I couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear though—that she filled my thoughts. Because she didn’t. I knew what it felt like to be head over heels for a girl. And I’d never felt that for my wife.”
The bus pulled up then, the hiss of the breaks cutting through the air. The front doors opened and the driver came out, followed by the first of the passengers. There was no more time, and Levi felt a wave of relief to get this man out of here—away from Rosmanda.
“Consider stopping the drinking,” Levi said. “It changes more than you think.”
“It won’t change what’s past,” Jonathan replied woodenly, and he stood up, picking up his suitcase.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Levi said. “I hope you get your wife’s love back again.”
Jonathan shook his head. “Not likely now. Not after this.”
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