“She saw me at my most vulnerable, and she decided I wasn’t worth the risk, Ketura,” he said. “I’m not perfect, and I know that. But you need your wife to see the best in you, not the risk.”
Ketura licked her lips and was silent for a moment. “She’s afraid, Levi.”
“Me too.”
“She’s been through a lot,” Ketura said. “She’s trying to keep things safe for her daughters.”
“I know that, too,” he said. “It’s okay, Ketura. I’ll be fine. Eventually.”
“Levi, my sweet, stubborn nephew,” Ketura said, her tone firming. “I’m going to be as clear as I possibly can. You meddled in my love life, and now I intend to meddle in yours.”
“Okay . . .” Levi looked at her hesitantly.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Yah. Go ahead.”
“You have to forgive her for being afraid. And you have to forgive her for playing it safe. It’s ever so easy to do when you have so much to lose. Yah, she’s scared, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t see the best in you. It means she’s already seen the worst in the world around her. So forgive her, Levi.”
“Forgiving her isn’t the hard part,” he said. “But she saw all of me, and she chose my brother. She knows the worst—”
“She’s afraid,” Ketura said. “But she won’t be afraid forever.”
Ketura was looking at him, waiting for an answer, but his heart was thrumming and his head was spinning. She’d made a good point—Rosmanda had seen the worst in the world, and he knew that better now than he had all those years ago when she’d cast him aside. Jonathan had played games with her that continued into the present. But Levi wasn’t the same man he used to be, either.
Levi had been so certain that even if she’d have him, he couldn’t marry the woman who couldn’t see past his weaknesses to love him as he was. But he wasn’t the same man he used to be . . . Back then, he’d had his heart broken and turned to drink. Now, he’d faced the worst heartbreak of his life, and he hadn’t had a drop to drink, despite the fact that he was a recovering alcoholic. He’d proven something to himself, too—he was man enough. And it wasn’t about breaking a horse or winning a woman. It was about his own ability to face the worst that life could hand him, and to stay on his feet. Rosmanda might be scared, but he could be absolutely certain that he’d never give her reason to doubt him again.
“Aaron,” Levi said, turning to his friend. “Is there any chance I can get that favor from you?”
“Anything,” Aaron said.
“Help my daet with the farm for a couple of days. I have something I have to do—”
Aaron and Ketura exchanged a look, and there was a twinkle in Ketura’s eyes.
“Is it in Indiana?” Ketura asked.
“Yes, Auntie!” he said, irritated. “It’s in Indiana. And Aaron, I also need a ride to the bus station. If I remember right, there should be an overnight bus to Morinville.”
Levi knew what he had to do—and it might not change a thing for her, but he had to let Rosmanda know what had changed for him. He’d never be able to live with himself if he didn’t. But he wouldn’t stay and pester her. He’d say his piece, and then he’d leave, if that was what she wanted.
He loved her, but he wouldn’t push himself on her, either.
Maybe, just maybe, she’d see the man in him that he’d longed for her to see all this time—the one who’d stand by her, protect her, and love her for the rest of his life, if only she’d let him.
Chapter Twenty
The next morning, Rosmanda stood at the Yoder door, her shawl wrapped tight around her. The morning was chilly, but Rosmanda could feel some latent warmth in the air. The sun shone warm, and a couple of magpies squabbled from a tree. She wouldn’t stay long. She’d come to do the right thing—to make up with Mary, if she could—and she’d been assured that this time of day was safe to make sure that Jonathan wouldn’t be home.
Rosmanda hadn’t slept well the night before because she felt guilty. No, she hadn’t meant to cause trouble in this home—at least not this time—but she did regret the misery Mary had gone through. Mary had deserved better—for her entire marriage, she’d deserved better.
Rosmanda knocked hard, and she could hear the chatter of kinner from inside, and the wail of the baby. It took a moment, but the door opened and Mary stood there, the infant in her arms and three little girls standing behind her to see who this unexpected visitor was.
“Hello,” Rosmanda said.
Mary gave her an unfriendly look, then turned toward the children behind her. “Girls, go outside and fetch the eggs.”
The girls left, but slowly because they still wanted to see who this visitor was. Mary didn’t ask her to come in, and Rosmanda remained on the step, her shawl clutched together in one fist. Her heart sped up just a little bit. She wasn’t welcome here, that much was plain—not that she’d expected anything different.
“Why are you here?” Mary asked when the girls had clattered out the side door.
“I need to talk to you,” Rosmanda said.
“Then, talk.” Mary adjusted the baby in her arms—the infant was fast asleep.
“Mary, I don’t want to be your enemy,” Rosmanda said.
A boy appeared around the side of the house, and he stopped short, staring at her.
“Come inside,” Mary said with a sigh, and when Rosmanda stepped in, Mary shut the door with a firmer hand than necessary. “So you’ve come to make peace?”
“Yah.” Rosmanda shrugged weakly. “Mary, we’re in the same community. We can’t avoid each other, and we can’t go on like this, either.”
Mary sighed, but tears misted her eyes, and she pressed her lips together in an attempt to control her emotions.
“Then go back,” Mary said. “And leave me and my husband alone.”
“I can’t go back.” Rosmanda’s voice shook. “My husband is dead, Mary. I was living with his parents, but they can’t afford to just keep me like that. And . . . Mary, I had to come home. Where would you go if you lost Jonathan?”
“If I lost him?” Mary retorted. “I lost him nine years ago, before our wedding! Yes, we’re married. Yes, we have kinner—but he’s been mooning after you ever since! But I think you know that, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“You think I’m here to try and take him,” Rosmanda said. “You really think that of me? And what would I do with him, exactly? Run off and go English?”
Mary dropped her gaze, and then shrugged. “I don’t know what to think.”
Rosmanda felt anger rising up inside of her, but not at Mary. This was rage directed at the man who had made them both miserable.
“If he’s been mooning after me—Mary, I was sixteen. Sixteen! I know I felt so very grown up, but I was a girl still. And yes, I acted horribly. I’m so embarrassed about that, even now. I’m sorry for what I did back then. But whatever he felt for me, he was feeling it for a sixteen-year-old.”
Mary blinked, and she absently stroked the baby’s head with one hand.
“So if he carried that around, he was stupid to do it. I’m sorry to be so blunt or to talk badly about a man, but you have to see that. I’m no longer that sixteen-year-old girl. I’m a grown woman. I’ve been married, I’ve buried a husband, and I have kinner of my own to worry about. I’m not the same at all, and I can guarantee you that he saw that when he came out to Abundance.”
Mary sucked in a wavering breath. “He did?”
“Look at me!” Rosmanda lifted her hands. “Am I some unspoiled girl? I’ve given birth to twins! And I’m not quite so easy to sweep off my feet anymore.”
“Did he try?”
Rosmanda paused, unsure of what to say. “I’m not sure. Maybe. It didn’t go well. I had my brother-in-law to help me with him, so . . .”
Levi . . . dear, sweet Levi with those dark eyes and the boyish grin. She might not be easy to sweep away, but Levi sure managed it. Or maybe she’d swept him. Regardless, thoughts
of him still tugged at her heart without any rest. She couldn’t just put him aside.
Mary walked into the sitting room and sat down. Rosmanda followed her, accepting it as a grudging invitation to sit, too.
“If I hadn’t been pregnant, and I knew about you, I would have called off the wedding,” Mary said. “Because he’s never been mine.”
“That isn’t true,” Rosmanda retorted. “You’d have given up the man you loved because of some teenaged girl? I wasn’t old enough to marry, and Jonathan wasn’t interested in a lengthy and respectful courtship. So you’d have simply walked away from all those wedding plans?”
“It would have been smart.”
“And what woman in love is thinking things through so thoroughly?” Rosmanda shook her head. “Even if you hadn’t been pregnant, we’d still be here. And Jonathan would still be yours. The elders would have stepped in regardless, and Jonathan would have seen sense. He had no interest in a chaste and lengthy wait for me. I was . . . young and convenient. He’s your husband. He married you before God and the community. He is most certainly yours.”
“Is he mine still?” Mary asked curtly. “Running off to check on another woman?”
Rosmanda was silent for a moment, and then she said, “I’ve been told that marriage is long, and that no season lasts forever. Right now, it might not feel that way, but you have five kinner together. He might be disappointing, but I think—” She swallowed, hoping she wasn’t overstepping. “I think he needs you to love him.”
“And I haven’t?” Mary demanded.
“I think . . . he needs you to forgive him.”
“He hasn’t said that.”
“He mooned after me, you said,” Rosmanda said. “And I must have been a disappointment when he found out the woman I grew into. He was lonely. He didn’t want me . . . he wanted”—Rosmanda shrugged—“maybe he wants the same thing you want. To be loved. To be understood. To be cherished. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Marriage is certainly long,” Mary said, her voice tight. “I was a good girl, you know. I did everything right. I was quiet, I worked hard, I did as I was told. And the one mistake I made—with Jonathan—resulted in my eldest.”
“It happens,” Rosmanda said weakly.
“And I was a good wife,” Mary went on. “I continued to work hard, I was supportive, I was loving, I made him look good. I did it all right! And then . . . one day . . . I just had enough. And I’m not such a good wife anymore.”
Rosmanda sighed. “You’re a woman, Mary.”
“What?” Mary blinked at her.
“You’re more than a wife, you’re a woman. Wives have a job to do, and a woman . . . well, a woman has a breaking point.”
Mary smiled faintly. “That is strangely wise.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Rosmanda said. “Your husband is acting like a fool right now, and fools are hard to suffer.”
“Yah, he is,” Mary agreed, and she shook her head. “I shouldn’t speak of him that way.”
“You didn’t, I did,” Rosmanda said, and then she sobered. “You love him, Mary.”
Mary didn’t answer. The baby in her arms stretched in her sleep, flinging an arm up over her head.
“I know you do,” Rosmanda went on. “Or you wouldn’t fight for him like this. He might not deserve it, but you do love him. And you’re a good woman, no matter what you say. It will sort out. This won’t last forever. With a new baby, things are always a bit hard, aren’t they?”
“Seems to be,” Mary agreed.
“I won’t be any trouble to you,” Rosmanda said quietly. “I promise that I will never contact your husband or speak to him. If he comes to me, I will coldly send him away. There will be no friendliness.”
“Thank you.”
“And Mary, I know you might not forgive me yet, but I am deeply, truly sorry for my adolescent stupidity.” Rosmanda swallowed hard. “If I could take it back, I would. And I am not that girl anymore. I will never act that way again as long as I live. And I am so very sorry for what I did to you.”
Mary looked over at Rosmanda with tears in her eyes. “I have to forgive you, Rosmanda. I’m a Christian.”
Rosmanda nodded quickly. “Thank you.” She rose to her feet. “I won’t keep you any longer. I’d best get back to my daughters.”
Mary stood up, too, and she followed her to the door. The girls returned then, the side door banging open, and Mary looked over her shoulder. The girls were chattering about something—teasing the older one, it sounded like. The baby squirmed again in Mary’s arms and let out a hungry-sounding cry.
Any possibility of quiet was past.
“Good-bye,” Rosmanda said, and she stepped back outside.
The boy stood in the front yard, and he waved shyly. She smiled back and headed for her buggy. She’d done the right thing, and she felt a little bit better. At least she’d be able to see Mary in church service, or at a sewing circle, and they could be respectful. And she’d stand by her word—she’d have no contact with Jonathan again. He belonged at home, fixing his marriage.
As Rosmanda drove the buggy back toward her parents’ farm, her mind was chewing over that conversation with Mary. Mary had done it all right—or nearly all of it. She’d been careful and cautious. She’d worked hard and raised good children. She’d devoted herself to her home and her husband, only to have everything go disastrously wrong.
Had Mary made a mistake in marrying Jonathan? Possibly. Maybe she should have found a man she felt more of a mutual connection with—a man who adored her as much as she adored him. But it wasn’t like an Amish community had so many men to choose from. Young people had to travel, sometimes, to find a marriage partner. There weren’t always a lot of options.
Rosmanda felt a wave of pity for Mary Yoder. It was possible for a woman to live so cautiously and carefully that she lost everything she longed for. Maybe Jonathan hadn’t wanted a perfect housekeeper and mother for his children—maybe he’d just wanted to be understood. It didn’t excuse him, but it might explain him. Mary had worked so hard on being good, and she’d lost out on the romance with her husband.
Being good—it was the safe road. It kept a woman from judgment in the community and it was supposed to give her a happy and rewarding life. A good woman could avoid the risks. But what if she never got what she wanted most because she was so carefully avoiding any risk at all?
Rosmanda sucked in a breath of crisp, spring air, her mind spinning. Maybe she wasn’t so different from Mary Yoder, after all. She’d done the same thing—being so careful to be good to make up for her adolescent mistake that she’d given up Levi, the one man she’d loved heart and soul. Would she end up any happier than Mary?
Her daughters needed a strong, Amish father, but they also needed to see their mother loved and cherished. Were the Yoder kids any better off with their parents at odds like this?
“I’ve made a mistake . . .” she breathed. There was no one to hear her confession, but somehow she needed to say it aloud.
She’d made a horrible mistake, and right now, all she wanted was to feel Levi’s strong arms around her, feel his breath against her hair, smell the hay that clung to his clothes . . . Because she loved him. She loved him so much that she ached without him. And while he might be a risk, living without him was going to be agony.
* * *
Levi stood by the side kitchen window of the Graber farmhouse, watching for Rosmanda’s buggy. She had an errand to run, her mamm had said, and she wouldn’t be long. He looked over to see Sarah Graber watching him curiously.
“You love her,” Sarah said.
Levi cleared his throat. “I . . . uh—” He wasn’t used to confessing his feelings to a woman’s mother. “Yah. I do.”
“Good.” She nodded. “My girl deserves that. But what are you going to do about it? Because if you’re here to scramble up her head and then leave again, you’ll only make her angry at this point.”
And her family would be ang
ry, too, no doubt. “I’m not going to pester her, Sarah. I promise you that.”
“Hmm.” Sarah didn’t look convinced, but she did dish up a piece of apple pie and hand it to him on a plate. “You might as well eat something.”
Levi took the plate from her gratefully and took a big bite. He hadn’t eaten since dinner last night, and he’d hired an Englisher taxi to drive him out this way without pausing to get breakfast at a diner or something in town. He’d been eager to get here, and he hadn’t exactly factored in a wait for Rosmanda to return. He’d had his speech all prepared, and now it seemed to be disintegrating in his head.
“Are you going to propose, then?” Sarah asked after a moment of silence.
He looked over at her, unsure if he could put off the bishop’s wife or not.
“Yah,” he said at last. “I do intend to propose.”
“Hmm.” Sarah nodded and her expression betrayed nothing of what she thought of this bit of information.
“I don’t know if it will make any difference to her,” he added. “And I don’t intend to do what Jonathan did and pester her. But, I’ve realized a couple of things, and I wanted to tell her. Face-to-face.”
“What things?” Sarah asked, and she poured a glass of milk and handed it over. “You might as well drink that, too.”
He took the milk and drank half of it, eyeing Sarah cautiously. She was watching him expectantly.
“I . . . uh . . .” He smiled uncomfortably. “I realized how much I love her, and that she’s got good reason to be careful and cautious. And . . . maybe I shouldn’t take that so personally.”
Saying it out loud, it didn’t sound quite so earthshaking as it felt inside of him, but it certainly did change things. For him, at least.
“Hmm.” Sarah nodded. “You looked down the barrel of a life without her, did you?”
“Yah.” He smiled ruefully. “That about sums it up.”
Levi heard the clop of hooves and he looked out the window to see the buggy coming down the drive.
“Sarah, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go tell that bit to Rosmanda,” he said, putting the cup and plate down on the table.
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