Beside Still Waters (A Big Sky)

by Tricia Goyer

  More Englisch had arrived and filed in the gate. They, for the most part, seemed oblivious to the Amish girl talking to the Englisch guy, but for the tension she felt, it was as if she stood in the middle of them naked. She knew she should dismiss his statement and walk away, but something inside her wanted clarification.

  Marianna jutted out her chin. "But those things aren't funny."

  "Not really." He crossed his arms over his chest. "But in a way, they are. I don't know much about the Amish, you're right, but I did have my ideas. I have to admit part of me wasn't looking forward to going to the train station to pick up your family. I expected everyone to be somber and quiet. I thought you'd jump if I spoke to you and that you'd be afraid to look me in the eye. I was surprised—and glad—to find I was wrong."

  "Maybe I should have been more like that. The way, well, the way we've been acting this morning isn't really acceptable." She looked over Ben's shoulder at the Peachy girls, who had finished with the quilts and were now handing out a handwritten list of auction items, which someone had photocopied for them.

  "I see." Ben looked behind him and followed her gaze. "That's a bummer then."

  A . . . bummer? Marianna couldn't help but lift her lips slightly. She'd never heard the word before, but she could easily guess what it meant. "Really, why is it a bummer?"

  "Because a month ago I loved this area. Everything about it. But it wasn't until you showed up I realized even a place as wonderful as this could get better."

  This definitely had to stop! "Yes, well, thank you then."

  Before he could speak another word, Marianna spun on her heel and hurried to the store—and, she hoped, safety. She didn't need to hear more—especially considering everything inside her felt lighter. And she couldn't deny the reason.

  It was because of Ben's words.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Pay no attention to his words!

  All day long Ben's words had kept drifting through her mind. And all day long Marianna had scolded herself. Ben was just being nice. Just being a friend. He didn't mean anything by what he said. He couldn't.

  She tried to enjoy the biggest day of the year in the West Kootenai. For a while she walked around with Dat, who carried Ellie on his shoulders and held Josiah's hand. That lasted a few hours until both kids grew tired, and Dat decided to take them home for naps.

  After he'd left, she walked around the place alone, watching the people. And—though she didn't want to admit she was doing so—keeping an eye out for Ben. It was maddening! The number of people and all they were doing made her senses ten times more sensitive than ever before. Three auctions took place simultaneously. Unlike back home the auctioneers were Amish. One man was the best. He spoke loud, describing the auction items with fervor. A crowd gathered, their faces brightening as they looked at the items displayed.

  The noise of the auctioneers and the buzz of people talking filled the air. Above her the sun warmed her kapp, and in the distance the mountains seemed to be especially majestic, even though she guessed they'd been just as pretty yesterday.

  She sniffed the air, the aroma of homemade donuts making her stomach growl. Children ran in every direction. And every now and again, she'd see David and Charlie within the pack, running around the tables that held small items to purchase. It reminded her of the way they played with their friends back home.

  If one were to look at her brothers, running around and laughing with the other boys, he'd never guess David and Charlie had just moved there less than a month prior. Her brothers knew the names of all the kids and played with them as if they'd always been the best of friends.

  Crowds of smiling people surrounded her. Amazing how much time had been put into preparation for the auction. Each visitor received a sheet of paper with a list of all the auction items and where they came from.

  Walking to one of the auction circles, she gazed up at the loft of the big barn. Two quilts hung from the rafters, and she scanned down the list to see who'd made them and where they came from.

  "Mrs. Orlie Kauffman, Lone Star Quilt from Shipshewana, Indiana," she read aloud. "Mrs. Harley Troyer, Broken Star Pattern, Rexford, Montana."

  The auctioneer rattled off a slew of numbers, and she was amazed how everyone kept track of what was happening. Her mind was too distracted to do that.

  The scent of barbecued chicken filled the air, and Marianna's stomach growled. A long line waited to get a plate of chicken, coleslaw, and mashed potatoes. Should she join it? Looking closer, she spotted her mother behind the table, scooping up large heaps of mashed potatoes, placing them on plates with a smile. One of the other ladies turned to Mem, and she must have said something funny because laughter tumbled from her mother's lips.

  Marianna paused in her steps. She tilted her head . . . her mother looked so different. So much younger. Marianna couldn't help but smile too.

  Mrs. Peachy approached, following Marianna's gaze. "You can get a free meal if you'd like, for all your hard work helping." She wrapped an arm around Marianna's shoulders.

  Marianna didn't tell her that it wasn't the food that had drawn her so. "That's wonderful, thank you much."

  "Enjoy yourself, and think about making some quilts. You can sell them next year, and I'm sure get a good price."

  "I like that idea."

  The woman squeezed her shoulder again and left, and a sinking feeling came over Marianna. She wouldn't be here this time next year. If all went as planned, she'd be attending the classes that led to baptism and preparing to make two major decisions in her life: to give herself fully to the church and to a husband.

  Trying not to let it bother her that she didn't have anyone to share the day with, Marianna walked to the end of the food line, but the sinking feeling expanded, echoing inside her. She looked to her mother again, now busy chatting with the man Marianna recognized as the clerk at the grocery store. Again her mother smiled, and it wasn't the forced smile Marianna had come to know so well. Her mother was enjoying this day—just as Dat anticipated.

  Marianna saw two young girls run by, and for a moment she thought one of them was Ellie. But neither was. Both were older, even though they had the same dark hair and full cheeks. They continued on, catching up with their mother, who strode across the field and chatted with another Amish woman. As she watched, Marianna thought of her older sisters. If only she could have seen what Marilyn and Joanna had looked like. Why hadn't she been brave enough over the years to ask more about their personalities? They'd be twenty-five and twenty-seven by now—no doubt mothers with children of their own. Did Mem and Dat think about that? Consider not only their lost girls, but the generations also lost?

  She took a step forward in line, and as her mind turned to that long-ago accident, too-familiar feelings flooded her. How different would her life have been if they'd lived? How different would she be if she weren't always trying to make up for her parents' loss? Hadn't always known, even as she did so, that she was never enough.

  She looked around her. Would Joanna's beautiful singing have filled the air, bringing admiring glances and smiles to her parents' faces? Would Marilyn be hosting a table full of the bounty of her garden, making their parents proud of their daughter's skill?

  She was one person replacing two. How could she ever be good enough to take their place?

  She couldn't. No matter how hard she tried.

  She continued to watch the girls, and the loss hit her afresh. One day they were there, her two sisters, running and playing like these girls. And the next day—they weren't. How her mother must have missed their laughter. Had she woken up in the morning thinking about making breakfast for them, only to realize they were gone? Had every child singing, every chubby hand bearing flowers broken her heart anew? And what about Dat and Levi? Each with their own memories of her sisters, memories of that nightmarish night. Marianna's stomach ached at the thought that those two she loved so dearly carried such terrible images with them always. The remembered presence of her sisters
had no doubt filled their Indiana home.

  No wonder each of her family members had, in their own way, run.

  A tap on her shoulder from behind made Marianna jump.

  "Miss, are you in line?"

  Marianna looked ahead and realized there was a gap between her and the person in front of her.

  "I was." Marianna blinked twice, trying to chase away the moisture clouding her eyes. "But I think I've changed my mind. I'm not hungry." With quick steps she left the line. Not knowing where else to go, she approached another auction and attempted to focus on the sale. She tried to push the picture of those two beautiful girls walking hand in hand out of her mind.

  It worked for a while. Just like she sometimes got caught up in the gentle rhythm of a buggy's wheels on the roadway, she became entranced with the sound of the auctioneer's voice. With the flow of the people around her, with the beauty and the colors of the quilts. She was so focused, in fact, that she didn't notice the tall man approach, standing beside her.

  "Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me a moment?" He ran a hand down his shaved face and his eyes locked on hers.

  "You need help?" Marianna eyed the man, and leaned back as she studied his face. The look in his eye made the hairs on the back of her neck rise, but she told herself she was overreacting. After all, what could he do to her in the middle of a crowd?

  "Yes, I'd like to buy a quilt for my fiancée, and I thought you'd tell me which one you like best." He sidled up to her, and when his arm brushed hers, she took a sidestep.

  "They're all beautiful." She scanned down the line of the half-dozen quilts that remained. "Well, except for the one with the cactus. I don't care for that pattern much."

  "Do you like the red and yellow one?" He pointed to one with a Dutch tile design.

  "It is very nice." She took another step sideways, creating more space between them.

  "Nice? I need something better than nice."

  "Well, I don't know—" Her words died in her throat when the man's arm wrapped around her shoulder.

  "Excuse me, sir. I really don't—" She tried to pulled back, but his grip was strong.

  "If you were getting married soon, which one would you want to spend your wedding night under?" He squeezed her shoulder and pulled her toward him. "Or maybe you don't want to wait."

  Marianna pulled to the side, trying to brush his arm off. "Sir, please . . ."

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blur of red.

  "I don't think that's the way you treat a lady."

  The gruff voice barked near Marianna's ear, and she released a relieved breath.

  Ben.

  The man turned his head, jutting out his jaw, but didn't let her go. "What did you say?"

  Ben moved in front of them, reached out, and gripped this man's arm, breaking his hold on Marianna. "I said, don't believe that's the way you treat a lady.

  "Hey, now, I was being friendly."

  Ben pushed himself between the man and Marianna, focusing on her face. "You okay?"

  She couldn't keep the gratitude from showing in her eyes. "Yes, thank you."

  A growl started from the man's chest and parted his lips. "Are you turning your back on me when I'm talking to you?"

  "Yes, I suppose I am," Ben called over his shoulder, then his hand cupped her elbow and led her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Ben guided her away, toward a table where young girls were selling homemade lemonade.

  "You can't walk away!"

  Ben ignored the angry call and continued on like no one was talking to him. "Would you like a cup of lemonade, Marianna?"

  "Yes, thank you." Her ears were perked to the man behind them, and she almost expected him to follow. But when she glanced back over her shoulder, he was stalking off in the opposite direction.

  "Don't worry, he's not from around here. He'll be gone in the morning, blown out of town like tumbleweed." Ben forced a smile, but she could see concern in his gaze.

  "It's not the first time something like that has happened." But Marianne had to admit this was even more unsettling than the encounter with the man on the train. At least she'd known for certain she'd never see that man again. "But how do you know he doesn't live here? What if he's new?" She didn't want to think she'd run into someone like that again, perhaps when she was walking to the store. She didn't want to imagine him following her home.

  "If he's new he won't last, but I really think he came for the day. I know most everyone around these parts, if not all."

  "So it's not normally this busy around here? I thought it was always like this," she teased, feeling her heartbeat slow. Her balled fists relaxed.

  Laughter spilled from Ben's lips. "No, not even close."

  "I don't understand how someone could act like that and think it's not a problem." She rubbed her arms, attempting to erase the rest of the tension.

  "Some people don't have social manners." He shrugged, paying for the lemonade and leaving a generous tip in the girls' jar.

  She accepted the cup he handed to her and took a long drink. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was until the cool liquid slid down her throat. She sighed. "No social manners. Sort of like me this morning?"

  "Actually, I'm the one who needs to apologize. I didn't realize there was such a dividing line. You'd think I would have figured that out after living here a year. I've never been good about staying within those lines." He moved his hand as if pretending to color a picture in the air. "Just ask my first grade teacher. Speaking of which"—Ben used his free hand to pull a few sheets of folded up papers from his pocket—"I wasn't able to save the whole coloring book. It was a mess, but I did save a few pages that your sister colored on." He set the cup on the table and then unfolded the pages. "I thought this one was especially good."

  Marianna looked and noticed that it was a drawing of a farm with a barn, rolling hills, and a dog. Ellie had colored those things and then added in some trees and taller mountains. She'd also drawn two stick figures. One was a taller woman—or so she guessed from the kapp and dress—and the other a small girl. They both had large smiles.

  There was a brown tinge to the paper where it had gotten wet and tear marks along the side where Ben had pulled it from the book. Marianna smiled. To her the picture was as pretty as any of the quilts.

  "Do you think she was drawing Montana?" Ben pointed to the mountains on the page.

  Marianna grinned. "I think she was trying to, but it's strange."

  "What is?"

  "Well, that she and Mem are smiling. We hadn't even been here yet, and she drew both of them with large smiles." Marianna put the page with the others and then refolded them, holding them in her hand. "Ellie wasn't too happy when she first got on the train. Maybe somewhere along the way things changed, and she had a feeling of what it would be like."

  "Or maybe she just planned on it." Ben took another sip from his lemonade. "She's a smart girl, maybe deep down she knew the first step was planning to be happy."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Marianna had retreated to the cool of the store and was looking at the display case of refrigerated beverages when she noticed Eve and Hope approaching.

  "Hi, Marianna. Are you enjoying your day?"

  "Yes, it's great fun. I've never been to anything quite like it."

  "You don't have auctions back home?" Eve flipped her reddish-blonde braid over her shoulder and took a bottled iced tea from the case.

  "We had auctions, but usually with Englisch auctioneers. "Also, I've never been to one that opened with a prayer—a spoken prayer, that is." All the Amish she knew back home only prayed silently, reverently.

  "Yes, I know." Hope shook her head. "That's one of the things about living here. Amish move here from all over the United States, and each bring their own traditions and ideas. We were only ten or so when we came, but we noticed differences. I'm sure you have too."

  "Yes, but nothing too different . . ." She let her words trail off, knowing it would
sound prideful if she pointed out examples. After all, she didn't want them to believe she thought the way she'd grown up with was the only way.

  "One thing that alarmed us at first is how nice the Englisch are." Eve was as talkative and bubbly as her mother.

  Hope continued the thought. "They talked to us all the time, and we weren't used to it. Sort of like Ben did today, with you."

  Marianna felt heat rise to her cheeks despite the fact she was standing in front of a refrigerated case. "I'm not used to it, but he seems nice enough." She shrugged. "I think he knows I'm new and is trying to make me feel welcome."

  An Englisch woman neared the display case, scanning her choices, and they lowered their voices.

  "He is just being nice, and you don't have to worry. He's not fancy on you. He—" Hope turned to Eve and scrunched her nose as if wondering if she should continue.

  "What? What were you going to say?" Marianna looked from Eve, to Hope, and back to Eve again.

  "Well, we shouldn't mention anything, but Ben drove us to Eureka yesterday, and the whole way he talked to our dad about wanting work building log homes. He said he'd get experience and get money for his own place."

  "And . . ." Marianna knew what they were alluding to, but she wanted to hear it from their mouths.

  "And since both your uncle and your father work there, we think he's trying to make a good impression."

  Marianna lowered her head, hoping she hid her disappointment. No, it was more than that—her sadness. She took a breath. Their words seemed to wrap around her neck like a tight scarf, cutting off her air. She didn't want to care what Ben's motives were, but that didn't make the breaths come any easier.

  She thought about that first day at the train. How eager Ben had been to help. She thought about him walking her brothers to school, and how he'd helped her twice today.

  Of course, it made sense.

  "Thank you for telling me. I'm not used to this. Back home I didn't interact with Englisch much."

  "We know how odd it feels." Hope pouted, sticking out her bottom lip. "All the Englisch around here are talkative. They are friendly too. But we'll pass on to you what our dad has told us many times, Such as the tree is, such is the fruit." Hope shrugged. "I guess you can't trust the Englisch too much, not knowing what's in their hearts."