I’ll be fine, son. And so will you. Besides, you’ll have your sister with you.
Let me stay, Mamm . . .
No. You’ll thank me for this later—you mark my words. Your life will be better. You’ll write me letters, and you’ll come to visit. But you’ll never tell anyone who I am, all right?
Life would better—that’s what she’d told them in her letters, too. She’d repeated it over and over again, and maybe she needed to believe that, because otherwise, she’d sent her children away for nothing. But then Lynita found a husband, and that seemed to be the proof his mamm needed that she’d been right that a life away from her was better for both of them.
But moving away from his mother all those years ago hadn’t changed that he was very much her son—making brash choices and hoping for the best just like she had.
He’d have to write her a letter and tell her the latest news...
Dear Mamm,
I’ve gotten married again . . .
She should have been at the wedding. Appearances be damned.
Chapter Eight
The next evening, outside Rosmanda and Levi’s house, Leah stood in the summer dusk with a pie in her hands as she waited for Jeb to unhitch the horse from the buggy. She’d made the pie that morning—her contribution to the game night. Their contribution, she should say.
There was a time when she used to make her pies with such careful attention to detail, hoping that a young man would notice it. Now, she was married, and a pie took on new meaning. She was now a part of the community of adults, and this pie was her way of contributing as an equal. People would be eating, and they’d go through a lot of food. Rosmanda would need the contributions to keep people fed.
The pie wasn’t perfect today. There was a dent in the center from where they’d gone over a bump in the buggy and she’d nearly dropped it. She was still disappointed. Even if this pie wasn’t going to be used to find a man, it was a representation of her abilities as a wife, and she already felt like she was falling short.
“You can just go in,” Jeb said as he unbuckled the traces.
“I’ll wait,” she replied, and she watched as he worked. He was quick and confident, but earlier, when they were getting ready to go, he’d been more reluctant. Part of her was worried that if she didn’t step through the door with him, he wouldn’t come in.
“How long since you’ve done something like this?” Leah asked.
“How long since you’ve seen me at a social event?” he countered.
“Never,” she admitted. “But I was with the youth group, and then I had women friends ... it was different.”
She hadn’t been in the same social circles, being an unmarried woman.
“It’s been a long while,” he said, patting the horse’s neck as he came around to lead it toward the stable. Jeb paused, his dark gaze meeting hers. “I’m doing this for you tonight.”
A smile flickered across his lips. He didn’t seem quite so daunting out here in the soft, warm evening. His scars melted into the darkness, leaving just a tall, broad man with a deep voice and a certain tenderness in his gaze.
“Oh . . .” She smiled hesitantly. “Thank you.”
“I told you before I’m not good with—” He glanced over her shoulder toward the house. “—groups.”
“This is our community,” she said. What were the Amish without their connection to one another?
“This is your community,” he countered, then led the horse forward. “I’ll just get the horse in a stall.”
Leah stared after him, noting that unmistakable limp as he walked. From inside the house she could hear muted laughter and the murmur of voices. Her community? She was new to being a wife, and everything would be different. This would be like starting fresh in a lot of ways. It would be his community, too, in time. If she did nothing else, she was determined to bring him back. He couldn’t stay living that lonely, distrustful life, could he? God worked in mysterious ways.
Jeb came back outside the stable, shutting the door behind him. He paused at her side and adjusted his straw hat.
“Okay,” he said.
“You ready?” she asked.
“No.” He sucked in a breath. “But let’s do it anyway.”
She smiled at that, and they made their way toward the side door. It was propped open, the screen door shut to keep the bugs outside. Leah went first, and she knocked on the screen frame, then opened it. They wouldn’t wait on ceremony here.
“Hello?” Leah called. She could smell the scent of popcorn and some warm baking. There was a male shout of victory as someone won a game of some sort, and the sounds of friendly chatter tugged her inward.
Rosmanda poked her head into the mudroom, and a smile broke over her face. “You’re here! I didn’t expect to see you for a couple of weeks at least.”
“Surprise,” Leah said, and her friend shot a smile past Leah to Jeb.
“Welcome, Jeb. Come inside. We have games going and all sorts of food.” Rosmanda accepted the pie from Leah. “This looks good—what is it? Blueberry?”
“That’s right. Excuse the dent. I was saving it from a bump in the road.”
“Dents are perfectly edible,” Rosmanda said with a grin. “Come on in.”
Leah glanced over her shoulder at Jeb, but the earlier openness in his gaze was gone, and Elizabeth, another young married woman, poked her head into the mudroom with a smile.
“You’re here! How does it feel to be married?” Elizabeth asked.
How did it feel? Leah wasn’t even sure yet. It felt like a strange dream where nothing felt quite like it should, but she couldn’t wake up.
“It’s . . . wonderful,” Leah said. This was the appropriate answer, and she looked over at Jeb to see what he would say, but he stayed silent.
Leah followed Elizabeth and Rosmanda into the kitchen. There was a game of Dutch Blitz happening around the table, and a group of kids could be heard running around upstairs. There was a thump, a wail, and Rosmanda paused, looking up toward the ceiling, but the cry stopped.
“Are you going to check on them?” Leah asked.
“That was one of my girls, I think, but it wasn’t a hurt cry,” Rosmanda said. “They’re fine. Let’s put out your pie.”
The men at the table had fallen silent, and Rosmanda noticed their exchanged glances. After a couple of beats, one of the men, Malachi, Elizabeth’s husband, scooted his chair over. He was one of the newly married men in their community, and his married beard looked sparse at best.
“Do you want to play this round, Jeb?” Malachi asked.
Jeb cleared his throat, then nodded. “Sure. It’s been a while.”
Jeb pulled up a stool and sat in the space two men made for him, and he lifted his gaze, meeting Leah’s for a moment. He looked wary, uncertain. This was for her—she knew that. But if he only gave it a chance, maybe this could be more than a kind gesture the next time they came out. Jeb looked down to the cards being shuffled.
“So, how is married life?” Rosmanda asked with a smile.
“Fine.” Leah smiled back, but she wondered how sincere she looked.
“You look spooked,” Elizabeth said, coming up. She slipped her arm through Leah’s.
“I’m not spooked,” Leah said with a low laugh. “It’s just . . . a lot to adjust to.”
“At least you don’t have to get used to doing all the housework alone,” Elizabeth said. “You were already running your own home with your brother. When Malachi and I got married, I was used to having my mamm and three younger sisters sharing chores with me. Now, that was an adjustment to taking care of a home on my own!”
“Are you living in the farmhouse, then?” Rosmanda asked Leah.
Leah nodded. “I’m trying to sort out the kitchen to my liking.”
“It must be nice to spread out a little bit,” Rosmanda said.
“It is,” Leah said. “But I’m still figuring out what’s in the cupboards and what I’m missing, so I’m not a
ppreciating the extra space yet.”
Plus, there was all the clutter she’d had to wade through. But she couldn’t mention that. Already, there was need for marital discretion.
“We should come help you,” Elizabeth said. “With three or four of us sorting things out, we can get your cupboards in order in a couple of hours.”
“No—” The word came out before Leah could even think better of it, but having others come over and sort through the kitchen with her wouldn’t actually be helpful. “I’ll invite you all over properly, but we’re still—”
“Honeymooning?” Rosmanda supplied with a teasing smile.
Leah’s cheeks heated and she didn’t answer that. They’d all assume that was what was happening, but it wasn’t.
“All she’ll admit to is kitchen organizing,” Elizabeth said, and she collapsed into giggles. “I’m sorry, Leah, but this was me two years ago, and it’s nice to be able to tease someone else for a change.”
“Poor thing,” Miriam said with a good-humored smile. The older woman grabbed a dish cloth and wiped off a cutting board that had been used for slicing bread, then reached for a loaf of sweet bread. “Leah, don’t let them tease you. But I do have a bit of advice for you.”
“Oh?” Leah asked hopefully. Miriam was Rosmanda’s mother-in-law, and she’d been married longer than Leah had even been alive.
“Make doing the dishes a pleasure,” Miriam said meaningfully, then tapped the side of her nose.
“What?” Leah asked feebly.
“Make it ... time together,” Miriam said. “What I’m saying is, if he will stand there with you drying dishes, then reward him with sweet words and a little flirting.... Trust me on that. If you can start it now, the rest of your marriage he’ll pitch in and help you dry dishes and won’t even be sure why.”
“I just thought that Stephen was a good husband that way,” Rosmanda said.
“Did you?” Miriam raised her eyebrows innocently. “He’s a very good man, dear, but I’m also a good wife.”
Leah couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You’re a wise woman, Miriam.”
“Oh, I stumbled into that by accident,” Miriam replied. “All sorts of good things come out of the early days, and all that flirting that goes on between you. But it’s worked well for me. Mind you, Stephen uses the same trick on me all the time. He’ll bring me along with him when he checks on the new calves, and I’m sure he only wants me there for opening and shutting gates for him, but he treats me like the only woman in the world while we do it, and well ... even at my age, I enjoy the attention.”
Miriam looked across the room to where Stephen was standing, watching the game of Dutch Blitz. The older man looked up at the same time, and he gave his wife a small smile. Leah could see the familiarity and tenderness between the two. They still had the spark, this older couple, and Leah looked between them wistfully. Maybe she and Jeb could develop that kind of friendship over time— helping each other with chores and that sort of thing. Except, she doubted the flirting would be much use to her.
Did all the marriage advice need to contain that teasing hint of the physical relationship? Leah looked over at Jeb, who was only half-heartedly playing the game, slapping down a card here and there while another young man whooped out his winning hand. Marriage was supposed to be about practical things. That’s what married women told the younger ones coming up behind them. Marriage was about a man you could trust, about working together, building a family together, a business, and worshipping together. Marriage was about community.
And all those parts of the relationship that mattered most were developed before the wedding. When couples were dating, they were supposed to stay pure, but that friendship they cultivated would last a lifetime. That was what an Amish young woman was told over and over again. She hadn’t expected this change in emphasis now that she was legally married. It felt intrusive, embarrassing.
“Marriage is long,” Rosmanda murmured next to her. “Give it time . . .”
Were her thoughts so obvious? Leah dropped her gaze. Marriage was long. For better or for worse, with the Amish, it was for a lifetime. Perhaps she didn’t need the advice of the other women quite so much as she’d thought. She’d longed for the time when the community of married women could be her support, but she hadn’t anticipated hiding quite so much. And Leah didn’t hide things very well, it would seem. The other women could see right through her. So perhaps she didn’t need their advice so much as she needed their respect. She’d have to figure out the rest on her own.
* * *
Jeb watched as the other players slapped down their cards in the fast-paced game. Flick, flick, flick, then a whoop as another young man won.
He tossed his cards into the pile, then stood up.
“You’re not going to play?” Malachi asked.
Jeb remembered Malachi as a rambunctious six-year-old at his first wedding. Malachi had very loudly come out with a bad word and found himself spanked by his father out by the buggies. Jeb remembered feeling bad for the kid. He’d been so embarrassed when he came back after a paddling—his young pride having been wounded more than his backside. And now Malachi was here, married and fully grown.
Matthew, the one Leah had been engaged to, would have been a kid back then, too, although Jeb didn’t remember him. Just another kid. There were a lot of kids in any Amish community. Was Matthew even here tonight?
“Nah, I’m done,” Jeb said, and he stood up, stepping back. “I’ll watch.”
It didn’t feel like that much time had slipped away since he’d married Katie, or since her death. He’d just gone about his business and kept to himself. How could fifteen years slide by without him noticing? The kids from his wedding were married already, with kinner of their own on the way.
Jeb’s gaze moved toward the women. Leah stood with her back to him, and the other women seemed to be teasing her by the good-natured laughing happening over by the sink. But his eyes were locked on his wife.
She was slender, but she had a definite shape to her that he liked. Her hair was carefully tucked up underneath her kapp, but there was a wispy tendril that had escaped at her hairline, and he found his gaze moving down the porcelain line of her neck to her dress. It had been a long time since he’d been around a woman, let alone shared a house with one, and he’d been noticing things about Leah—the shape of her body, the way she ran her hands down her hips when she thought she was straightening herself out.
Leah put her hand up to her neck, shaking her head and laughing along with the women. Leah’s fingers were slim and pale, and he realized that he hadn’t held her hand yet. Maybe he never would ... but he wondered what those fingers would feel like in his palm. The things he’d noticed about her, the details he appreciated, had been from afar.
“A wife is a blessing,” Stephen said.
“Yah.” Jeb turned his attention to the older man who’d come up next to him. They had some history, and Jeb eyed the older man, wondering how much he’d acknowledge.
“I’m glad you’ve found happiness,” Stephen said, his voice low. “I hope you stay that way.”
There it was—the barb. He couldn’t say he was surprised.
“That’s a strange way of congratulating a man,” Jeb said curtly.
“This isn’t your first marriage,” Stephen replied.
“No, it isn’t.” Jeb met Stephen’s gaze, refusing to be cowed. “Are you trying to say something?”
“It takes two to make a marriage happy, son,” Stephen said quietly.
“Agreed.”
“You can’t blame a woman if your home isn’t peaceful,” Stephen said. “Leah’s a good woman. We care about her happiness, too.”
“I’ve been married for two days,” Jeb said curtly. “Have you already heard rumors?”
Stephen was talking about Katie and they both knew it, but Jeb refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. Jeb had been just as misled as Katie had been. The community that should hav
e steered Jeb straight had let him down, too.
Jeb didn’t wait for Stephen to reply. Stephen had been one of the older men to encourage him to marry Katie. Stephen had lied to his face, convinced a young man to marry a girl who’d never love him, and now blamed him to this day because Katie hadn’t settled obediently into his arms? Anger simmered up inside him, but this was an old rage that had burned for years. He wouldn’t get into an argument with Stephen tonight. There was no point. Katie was dead, and Stephen would believe whatever he wanted to believe.
“A word of advice,” Stephen said. “Marriage is what the man makes of it. A happy wife is because a man knows how to treat her well.”
“A happy wife has chosen to be a wife,” he snapped. Not only had Katie been pushed into their marriage, but she’d been resentful for every moment of it. Could he blame her? Fifteen years after her death, he could still feel the bullying that had made their marriage happen.
“Jebadiah—” Stephen began, but Jeb raised a hand and stopped him.
“Enough,” Jeb growled, and the older man fell silent.
It was then that Jeb noticed that the women had gone silent, too, and they all stood there staring at him, Leah in the center of them all. Her eyes were wide, and he could see the pleading in them.
All she wanted was a proper outing with other couples, and he was already ruining it.
“Excuse me,” he said gruffly. Jeb turned and stalked out of the kitchen and into the hallway that led to the sitting room beyond. He stood there in the dim light provided from lamps in either room, and he realized he wasn’t willing to go into the next room. He wanted solitude, quiet. He wanted to get out of here, go out to the company of the horses ... Anything but stay in this house.
Stephen still blamed him! And had Stephen and Miriam really known Katie’s parents all that well? They’d moved into Abundance when Katie was a child still, and they had no relatives around here. But Stephen and Miriam had stood for that couple as if they’d known all their kin. They’d stood for Katie—been desperate to “rescue” her from the clutches of some Englisher boyfriend, because Heaven knew that the worst thing that could possibly happen was one Amish girl running off with her Englisher love. If she had, they all might have been a great deal happier, and Katie, while damned by her community, might still be alive.
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