by Amy Field
“Do you love him?” Stephen interrupted her.
Looking him straight in the eyes she replied, “I do love him.”
“More than how you love me?” he challenged.
At this Martha cringed as she had no clear response for the question. She knew that she loved them both but to whom she felt more affectionate she could not say. Perhaps if he had come back a few months ago, without a doubt she would have been able to tell him that no one could hold a candle to the love she had for him. But it was different now. She genuinely loved Mark and the love she felt for him was on equal standing with what she felt for Stephen.
“That is not important Stephen, I am marrying Mark,” she affirmed.
In one swift motion he was upon her and he crushed her to his chest as his lips came down on hers. She gasped in surprise and he used it to slip his tongue into her mouth and explored the wet caverns. She found herself melt in his arms and her arms went around his neck as she kissed him fervently. After a few minutes of revelling in the feel of him her senses kicked back into full gear and she pushed away from him.
“What are you doing?” she asked perturbed.
Ignoring her question he asked one of his own. “Does he kiss you like this? To the point that your heart races and your toes curl with the pleasure of feeling my lips on yours?”
“Stephen, stop!” she warned. “I love Mark and I’m marrying him. He’s giving me everything I’ve ever wanted,” she affirmed.
“But he’s not me, Martha,” he challenged.
She started to respond but he continued. “I came back with the intention of picking up on where we left off. You said that I didn’t have anything to offer you but now I do. I have a home of my own, a business and I want to marry you. I want you by my side,” he spoke earnestly as he held her clammy hand in his.
“Why are you doing this to me Stephen?” she asked in a strangled voice.
“Because I love you,” he replied.
At this the doorbell rang causing her to recoil from his touch as she looked at him nervously before going to open the door.
“Martha, it is good to see you still clothed and ready to receive visitors,” spoke Anne who stood at her door with an insincere smile.
“What do you want Anne?” Martha asked beyond irritated by the woman’s constant interference.
“To simply witness the work of the good Lord,” she replied cheekily just as a buggy pulled up to the gate. Looking behind the woman she realized who it belonged to and could only guess that this was a doing of the vile woman before her.
“You know Anne, the bible also says that we should pray for our enemies and for those who despitefully use and abuse you, so that is what I will be doing for you,” Martha said giving her a pointed stared.
“When have I ever…” Anne spoke with indignation but Martha cut her off, “Save it I am in no mood for the melodrama.” Just as she finished, Mark came bounding up the stairs of the porch.
“Is everything okay?” he asked his voice breathless and concerned, “I rushed over here as fast as I could.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked confused.
“Anne said you had an emergency,” he explained equally confused. Just then Stephen came to the door – the real reason Anne had gone out of her way to get him over there.
“Oh, I see you have company,” he responded in a dejected voice earning a curious glance from Anne.
“Surely you are not going to leave your fiancé in the company of another man Deacon?” Anne asked with masked concern. “We can’t be ignorant of the devil’s devices and let him through the door that is how families are destroyed,” she reasoned with an air of piety.
“Thank you for your concern Anne. But I trust Martha to do what is right,” he said fixing his stare on her. He then turned to Stephen and held out his hand, “I apologize, I forgot my manners. I am Deacon Mark Shultz.”
Stephen took his hand and shook it carefully. “It is good to meet you Deacon. I am…”
“Stephen Walkins. I know. Martha told me about you,” he spoke up cutting Stephen off mid-sentence.
“Oh,” he replied warily as Anne’s eyes bugged out of their sockets at the fact that she no longer had her leverage with which to use to torment Martha.
“You can stay. I was just about to leave and I think Martha has something to tell you,” he said pointedly stepping through the door and proceeding down the steps without a backward glance.
“Well it seems all is well,” Anne said in her insincere tone, “I’ll just be going.”
Neither Martha nor Mark bothered to acknowledge her and she left the two of them staring at each other.
“So what is it that you have to tell me?” Mark asked cautiously after she ushered him inside.
“Stephen asked me to marry him,” she replied carefully watching his expression.
“And what was your answer?” he asked, his face revealing nothing of what he was feeling.
“I didn’t answer. Anne interrupted us and then you arrived.”
“And if we had not interrupted what would it have been?” he asked undeterred by her response.
“I don’t know Mark,” she responded exasperated at his lack of emotion. “Why can’t you just tell me how you feel about this? Shout at me, anything!” She was raising her voice in exasperation.
“Because I am waiting for you to tell me how you truly feel Martha,” he responded evenly, looking at her intently.
Sighing, he rose from the chair he occupied.
“I truly need you to be honest with me and yourself, and until that happens the wedding is off.” He raised a hand to stop her protest as he finished, “I love you Martha, believe me I do, and as much as I want you to be apart of my life, I want you to be happy. If Stephen is who makes you happy I will step aside and let you be with him.”
Martha started crying.
“But it looks as if that is what you are doing now,” she sobbed into his shirt. He simply rubbed her back calming her before he disentangled himself and left.
Stephen had been by the house two times after that. Martha had told him that she needed time to think, which he gave her. She only saw Mark at the service on Sunday, but they barely exchanged words. He left as soon as it was over, leaving her sad and miserable.
“Mother, I have something to tell you,” came Leah’s tentative voice as Martha stooped to check on the cherry pie she was baking in the oven.
Rising to her full height she turned to her daughter whose face showed signs of distress.
“What is it Leah?” she asked her motherly instincts kicking into gear.
“I met someone but he isn’t from here,” she started off slowly.
Martha suddenly felt light about her daughter. At last she was opening up.
“Go on,” Martha encouraged.
“I have been seeing him whenever he visits Miss Yoder. He’s her nephew…”
Martha’s heart plummeted in her chest as she listened to her daughter speak about a situation that was all too familiar to her.
“He wants me to come away with him to live amongst the Englischers but I told him I can’t. He says there is no way he would ever want to live as an Amish and I just feel awful.”
Taking her daughter’s face in her hands she looked lovingly into her eyes.
“You've just turned sixteen, Leah, and he represents everything that you can’t get here. But if you give it time you can find that everything you’ve always wanted is right here, you don't have to go anywhere to get it. It will hurt now, but over time it gets better and then with God you will feel nothing,” she encouraged.
“Whatever you decide, I am here for you though,” she finished and Leah hugged her tightly, grateful for the word of advice from her mother.
Now Martha finally realized that the answer was always in front of her, and she knew what she had to do. Lifting her daughter’s face she wiped the tears from her cheeks and gave her a kiss on her forehead.
“There
is something I need to do. I will be back,” she advised her daughter before heading for her shawl to put around her shoulders as she made her way to the buggy and to the man she loved.
“What are you doing here, Martha?” Mark asked, confused. He thought she would have needed more time to think about her decision.
“I should have told you from the first time that I chose you, but I guess I just needed to get my mind prepared for the fact that I would have to hurt one of you to get my happiness.”
“You chose me?” he asked disbelievingly even as a smile spread across his face.
“I chose you because I love you, and I realize this is where I belong, with you. You represent what I have been searching for all my life and I want to spend the time I have remaining on Earth showing you just how much I care.”
Reaching his hand around her waist he pulled her to him and gently kissed her lips.
“I love you Martha.”
“And I love you, Mark.”
Again he embraced her as he showered kisses on top of her head. The boys appeared, curious as to what was keeping their father, and they too were enveloped in the hug. Told that Martha was to be their new mother, they squealed with happiness.
The End
Six months later
Martha looked lovingly at her husband as he helped their son to build a wooden truck. She watched with awe, marveling at how much they had transformed her life. If she had to go back and make a choice, he would always come out on top – he was her home.
Book III
The Amish Widow's Baby
Emma felt the bile rise to her throat and quickly reached for the waste bin she kept under the bed. After emptying the remaining contents of her stomach, she flopped back on top of the bed as her head began to swim. This was the third time since this morning she had vomited. She’d been sick more times than she could count over the past week. The nausea did not dissipate since its appearance and was becoming a problem. Between this and grieving for Josef, she was completely drained – maxed out.
It had been more than a month since her husband Josef died in a lightning storm; a month since she felt whole – alive. He had been her everything and she had thought their love would be forever; that it was they who would grow old together and have handsome brown-haired, green-eyed boys that looked like him and beautiful blond-haired, blue-eyed girls that looked like her. Theirs would be a love that transcended time; only she was the only one left to carry on loving.
Her heart constricted as his laughing green eyes and the wide smile that he wore, showcasing his straight white teeth, came into her mind’s eye. Tears rolled down her cheeks unattended and she clutched her mid-section as the pain and the weight of her loss rocked her body. After the tears subsided, she decided to go downstairs and make some tea in an attempt to calm her frazzled nerves.
She passed through the large living room that held so many memories of her and her husband, but, determined to complete the task she set out to do, her steps did not falter. She immediately went to the pile of wood set beside the stove, and, taking up enough pieces to heat the stove, she placed them into the fire chamber before lighting it. She then proceeded to fill the kettle with water and placed it on the stove’s surface to be heated.
As soon as the whistle sounded, she poured the hot water over the sprig of mint in the cup and added a spoon of sugar. She then took a seat in a chair around the table and began to sip her hot beverage. Unavoidably, her mind went back to Josef and about the time they spent in this very kitchen.
“Josef, I miss you,” she whispered in the silence of the room as fresh tears dampened her cheeks. “Why did you have to leave, why?” Her hold on the tea cup tightened and her head began to pound and she rested her head on the table as she allowed her sorrow to overtake her.
Finally she pulled herself together, enough to get her into the living room and to the rocking chair Joseph had intricately designed – it was a gift and a promise of things to come. He had spent hours out in the shed making sure that all the details were perfect on the chair. The interior was upholstered in a multi-colored seat cushioning and back support and her aching body sank comfortably into the soft yet sturdy chair.
The chair had been made on their third anniversary. It was his hope that they would have a little one to rock in it. Tonight she was the only one rocking in it. The back and forth movement of the chair slowly lulled her to sleep.
“Emma!”
Jerking at the sudden call of her name, she took in her surroundings and realized she was still in the rocker.
“Emma, open up!” came the demanding voice once more. It catapulted her from her seat and she made the effort to focus on what was going on.
“Who is it?” she called out. Light was streaming through the light curtains hung at the two windows facing across from the room.
“It’s Elsie,” came the voice from behind the front door.
Sighing, Emma made her way across the foyer and opened the door to let her sister in.
“I have been calling for nearly ten minutes. Are you okay?” she asked as she inspected Emma’s attire, which consisted of her simple cotton nightgown and bed slippers. Her curly blond hair lay in tangles around her heart-shaped face.
“Good morning to you too, sister,” she replied. “There is no reason for your concern. I was only sleeping.”
“Emma, it is ten in the morning,” her sister sad in a concerned tone. “I have never seen you sleep past seven.”
Emma's eyes widened as she looked at the clock above the door. The positioning of the hands showed that it was indeed after ten. How had she managed to sleep so long?
“I overslept, that’s all,” she replied, in a manner bordering on nonchalance as she turned towards the living room area once more. Elsie followed her inside and kept an observant eye on her as she repositioned herself in the rocking chair by the heater in the back of the room.
“Did you sleep down here?” she asked after a time.
Emma knew the lecture that was coming but like all other old habits she could not lie to her.
“I came down to get a cup of tea in the middle of the night and I was simply too tired to go back upstairs,” she replied as if it was nothing.
“Emma, I know you miss Josef but you have to move on with your life,” Elsie started as she took a seat in one of the arm chairs closest to her. “I hate to see you like this,” she continued with concern. “He wouldn’t want you to stop living, to stop caring. You know that, Emma.”
“And what about what I want?” she asked bitterly as she turned angry eyes on her sister. She was tired of everyone telling her that she had to be strong, that she had to move away from the state she was in. She had a right to mourn for him. He was her husband – not anyone else’s.
“What do you want, Emma?” Elsie asked carefully.
“I want everyone to leave me alone,” she answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “I don’t need your pity or your advice. I just want my husband back and none of you can bring him back to me,” she finished, her voice laced with the bitterness she felt on the inside.
“But it was God’s will, Emma,” Elsie tried to reason as the tears flowed freely down her sister’s face.
“How can it be His will to take away my husband?” she cried in anguish. “I trusted Him and I did everything that was required of me and yet He took the one good thing I had in my life. How could He do this to me?”
Elsie’s heart became heavy with the sorrow she felt for her sister who was now crumpled over on the floor clutching her chest tightly. Easing herself out of the chair she went and gathered Emma into her arms as she released all of the hurt and anger she had bottled up inside.
“I’m sorry, I can’t make it better for you sister. If I could, I would,” she sighed into her sister’s hair.
Emma felt like her heart was once again being ripped from her chest just as it had on that fateful night when Michael, Elsie’s husband, had shown up at her door with the news of her husba
nd’s death. But with her sister on the floor and holding her, she felt the warmth of the touch begin to thaw her icy soul.
“Let me make you some breakfast,” Elsie offered. “Go on upstairs and freshen up. When you get down everything will be set.” Elsie eased Emma out of her arms and stood with her. Emma gave her sister’s hand a weak squeeze before heading towards the staircase to do as she was told.
After showering, Emma quickly donned the plain black dress and tied an apron around it before detangling her hair and arranging it in a tight bun. She put on her prayer kapp and then made her way downstairs.
The food smelled heavenly but it still made her feel nauseous. Ignoring the feeling, she went and sat by the table as Elsie placed the steaming plate of food before her with a cup of coffee. Elsie then fixed her plate and sat at the table. As soon as prayer was made they dug in.
Halfway through the meal, Emma felt the tell-tale signs of the food struggling to make its way back up her throat. She quickly pushed away from the table and rushed to the sink as the bathroom was too far away. She immediately released the content of her stomach as her body became awashed with cold sweat.
“Emma, what’s wrong?” asked a concerned Elsie. She rubbed her sister’s back as she dry heaved over the sink.
“I don’t know, Elsie. One minute I was fine and then I just couldn’t keep down the food,” she answered honestly before washing out her mouth and the contents in the sink.
Elsie was quiet for a time as if she was musing over what Emma had said. Emma sat at the table with her head in her hands, exhausted and completely put off from eating.
“When was the last time you had your woman business?” Elsie suddenly asked as she paced back and forth in the small space between the table and the sink.
“Why do you ask?” Emma asked warily.
“Because, sister, you have been having this vomiting sickness since last week and it is getting no better,” she replied. “The only time a person has such a sickness is when they are in fact pregnant.”