by Sarah Price
Oblivious to Eleanor’s inner turmoil, Lydia returned to her favorite subject: herself. “I’m so thankful that, unlike Willis, Edwin is ever so trustworthy. Still, I’ll be glad when Edwin finally speaks to the bishop. This secrecy is so difficult to maintain. We have had to behave with such discretion to conceal our relationship that it has become a terrible burden!”
“I . . . I can imagine.” Eleanor knew only too well how painful her own secrets felt. Between facing this woman who was engaged to the man she loved, holding the story that Christian had confided to her, and comforting her sister until the wee hours of the night, Eleanor’s shoulders felt heavy under the enormous weight of secrets.
“That’s why I’m just so glad, Eleanor, that you and I have become friends.” Lydia smiled when she said this, and for the first time Eleanor realized Lydia was not quite as pretty as she had originally thought. She no longer saw the pale skin, devoid of freckles or sun damage, or the pretty smile with perfectly white teeth. Instead, she saw a young woman who, despite having been raised on a farm, probably had not known a day of hard work in her life. Lydia’s thirst for someone—anyone!—to confide in meant that she did not have a lot of close friends, and that, in and of itself, told Eleanor a lot about this woman. The fact that Lydia had immediately sought out Eleanor’s friendship from the very beginning told Eleanor something else about her: their differences were far too great for a true friendship to form between them. And Eleanor suspected Lydia knew that, which made her wonder all the more why any confidence had been shared with her in the first place.
She began to wonder if Lydia worried that Edwin’s affections had strayed. Perhaps she sought to keep him for herself by asserting her own claim on him. And while she began to realize Lydia might also be experiencing a touch of the emotional turmoil Eleanor felt, she took no comfort in that. After all, regardless of how Lydia fretted over Edwin’s loyalty to her, Eleanor knew that if he had proposed to Lydia, regardless of the circumstances or timing, he would never go back on his word.
The gentle ticking of a clock hanging on the wall was the only noise in the room as Eleanor tried to think of something to say.
“Shall I fetch you some coffee?” Eleanor asked, getting up before Lydia could answer. She hurried over to the kitchen and turned on the stove before she filled the silver kettle with water. While she waited for it to boil, she opened a cabinet to retrieve two mismatched coffee cups. Setting them on the counter, she sighed. If only Lydia would have left with Charlotte and Widow Jennings! she thought. The last thing Eleanor needed right now was to sit and entertain the young woman. She would have much preferred to be alone so she could tend to Mary Ann.
The hinges of the front door squeaked. Curious to see who had arrived, Eleanor turned toward the doorway just as a figure appeared. To her amazement she recognized the man right away. But just as quickly her amazement turned to dismay: Edwin Fisher’s timing could not have been worse.
“Eleanor!” Edwin said as he crossed the room in three strides and stood before her. He reached out, placing his hand on her arm. “I’ve only just now heard that you were in Honey Brook! I would have come to visit before now had I known.”
Too aware of Lydia’s curious gaze as she peeked around the side of the recliner, Eleanor took a step back, letting his hand fall from her arm as she gestured toward the sitting area. “Edwin, I do believe you are familiar with my visitor, Lydia?”
Edwin’s initial reaction looked to be of disbelief, especially after he pivoted on his heel and saw her now standing by the chair. He stumbled over his words, his eyes shifting from one woman to another. “I . . . oh . . . ”
Lydia helped him overcome his awkwardness. She stepped forward and held out her hand for him to shake. “Ja, we do know one another,” she said, her eyes focused on his. “It’s so gut to see you again, Edwin Fisher.” For a moment, her hand stayed there, suspended between them.
Reluctantly, and with one last look at Eleanor, he finally shook the outstretched hand. “Indeed. Likewise, Lydia.” He released her hand and shuffled his feet. “Ja, vell, I was only stopping in to say hello, being on my way home from worship service. I was . . . ja, vell, I was only on the way home, and I best keep going so that I’m not . . . uh . . . late.”
Immediately Lydia stepped forward, standing closer to Edwin than propriety normally allowed. It spoke of an intimacy that was reserved for courting couples. “Perhaps you might escort me home too, as I was just getting ready to leave. It’s been such a while. I’m sure we have much to catch up on.”
The whistling of the kettle on the stove interrupted her words. The three of them looked in its direction, the two empty mugs on the counter clearly revealing Lydia’s fib about leaving. But true to character, Edwin merely nodded his head and took a step toward the door. “Of course,” he said. “My buggy is right outside the door.”
With great bravado Lydia smiled at Eleanor and practically pranced across the floor toward the door. She exited first, leaving Edwin to follow. His hesitation to do so led Eleanor to believe he did not wish to take her home. And when he glanced over his shoulder at her, she knew he felt as uncomfortable as she did. Eleanor understood why. What type of righteous man would mislead a woman when promised to wed another? She knew the answer: none.
Yet, as much as her heart ached, Eleanor simply could not find herself in a position to hate him. She suspected that if she knew Edwin the way she thought she did, there was more to the story than a philandering young man looking to make conquests of innocent Amish women. No, she thought as she turned off the stove and listened to the sound of Edwin’s horse and buggy pull out of the driveway. Edwin was not a philandering young man. That role was left for Willis, who had apparently left a string of broken hearts in the wake of his very dangerous selection of amusement.
Chapter Twenty-One
BACK AT THE cottage the gray clouds lingered overhead, hiding more than just the sunshine. Since their return from Honey Brook five days ago it seemed as if no light shined within the four walls; the outside gloominess penetrated the house. During the first few days Mary Ann did little more than sit in the rocker and stare out the window. She refused to eat, and no amount of coaxing from Eleanor or Maem would convince her otherwise. While Mary Ann’s silence drew the attention and empathy of the rest of the family, Eleanor suffered quietly.
On Monday morning Christian Bechtler had arranged for a driver to bring them home earlier than had originally been planned. He also managed to return with them. His concern over Mary Ann touched Eleanor. Quiet and unassuming, he tended to her sister’s needs, knowing that he could expect nothing in return for his efforts. The purity of his affection was the most honest form of love Eleanor had ever witnessed. Yet Mary Ann did not respond to him, or anyone else for that matter.
Every day he stopped by the house after he finished his work. He brought flowers, a different bouquet every afternoon, and handed them to Eleanor before he went over to greet Mary Ann. After a few minutes of trying to elicit a reaction, Christian would reach out and gently touch her shoulder before leaving again, a sorrowful look on his face.
“Has she improved at all?” he had asked on Friday before he left.
“She’s walking a bit more,” Eleanor admitted. “Mostly pacing. She’s not talking so much, but she is eating.”
“Vell, that’s a good start.” He cast one more forlorn glance in her direction. “To see her suffer so, at the hands of such a callous, deceitful man.” The anger in his voice startled Eleanor. In the short time she had known Christian, she had viewed him as a calm, righteous, and forgiving man. Yet now his words reflected something that bordered on resentment and blame. While she did not disagree with him, she saw him in a different light. Instead of being a man who was only rigidly committed to following God’s Word, he could also feel deep emotion for people. It was a side of him she found quite moving.
By the time Saturday rolled around, the clouds had moved in and a chill clung to the air. To Eleanor’s re
lief Mary Ann stopped staring out the window and stood up, unexpectedly announcing her intention to walk before the sunset.
Maggie jumped up and started for the door. “I want to go with you.”
“I want to go alone,” Mary Ann replied. She moved across the floor, her shoulders down and her face pinched. She had lost so much weight that her dress, a pale pink one, hung from her shoulders, the straight pins that held it shut unable to hide that fact. Without her sparkling eyes and quick-witted retorts, Mary Ann was just a shell of her former self.
“It’s going to rain, Mary Ann,” Eleanor said. “I don’t think you should walk alone.”
“It’s not going to rain,” she replied in a soft but even voice, heading for the door, her bare feet brushing against the floorboards.
“You always say that,” Maggie whispered, her eyes wide as she watched the ghostlike form of her sister cross the floor toward the door.
“And it never does.” Without another moment to let anyone further argue with her, Mary Ann walked out the door.
Eleanor, Maem, and Maggie stared after her, watching as Mary Ann walked past the front window, pausing to look at her garden, and then continued toward the lane. She turned right, disappearing behind the hedge and from sight.
No one spoke, too astonished that Mary Ann had not only arisen from her seat but left the house to take a walk. Perhaps, Eleanor thought, this is the beginning of her healing. She knew, all too well, that it took time for open wounds of the heart to recover. Her own injury was still in need of time to get better.
“I dare say that I’m just unable to think straight,” Maem said at last. “Such a horrible thing, this Willis leading on our Mary Ann. To think we held him in such high regard and favor!”
Fortunately no one seemed to know the entire story, and Eleanor was not about to volunteer it. She wasn’t certain if Mary Ann would feel better or worse if she knew Willis had fathered a child out of wedlock, denied responsibility, and been disinherited because of it. The woman he intended to marry was certainly not holding his affections the way Mary Ann had. But had he married Mary Ann, he would not have gained a farm and would have had no way of supporting her. He had chosen to marry another woman for practical reasons, of that Eleanor was sure and certain. It was not an uncommon decision for an Amish man, and Eleanor suspected it was better for Mary Ann to recover from that injury instead of having to discover that he was not a righteous man at all.
Still the debate continued to rage through her as she worked on her sewing in the quiet of the kitchen with her mother and sister.
“Knock, knock,” a male voice called through the open door.
Maggie ran over to the door, eagerly greeting their now-daily visitor, Christian. “Preacher!” she shouted, happily taking the bouquet of flowers from him. “You’ll never guess what has happened!”
He smiled at her. “You passed your test yesterday at school?”
She laughed. “Ja, of course. But this is something even better!”
“Maggie, don’t crowd him so,” Maem scolded gently. “And bring me those flowers. They will need some water.”
“How do the Detweiler women fare today?” Christian asked, quickly scanning the room with his eyes.
“Quite well, Christian,” Eleanor responded. “Seems like Mary Ann is doing a bit better today.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That is wunderbarr gut news, indeed! Where is she, if I might ask?”
Maggie plopped down at the table and pressed her face against a hand, leaning toward Eleanor. “She went for a walk. And without me!”
Eleanor nudged her gently. “You always complain about going for walks with her. She has to practically drag you each time!” She returned her attention to Christian. “I’m surprised you didn’t see her. She left on the lane just fifteen or so minutes before you arrived.”
The color drained from his face and his back stiffened. “I did not see her. And the rain has begun. Did you not notice?”
All three heads turned to look at the window. As Maggie had predicted earlier, the rain was falling. However, it fell in such a way that it did not hit their windows. At least not yet.
“Oh!” Eleanor stood up and hurried over to look outside.
“And lightning storms are headed this way. I could see them over the valley, which is why I walked here instead of bringing the buggy.” He joined Eleanor at the window and peered over her shoulder, squinting as he stared. “She would turn back, ja?”
Maem began worrying, her hands clasped together and one thumb rubbing the palm of the other hand. “We should never have let her go alone!”
Christian walked over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “I shall go fetch her. Don’t worry.”
His words seemed to reassure Maem, but only a little, for she still looked frightened as he headed toward the door.
“Which direction, Eleanor?”
“I . . . I don’t rightly know, Christian. She turned right at the hedge, so certainly in that direction.”
He nodded his head and disappeared through the door, being careful to shut it behind him as the rain began to downpour, the sound of the rapid cloudburst on the roof now echoing throughout the room. No one spoke as Eleanor and Maggie crowded around the window, staring outside and searching for any sign of Mary Ann. Besides the rain the only noise was the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall and, to all of their alarm, the loud clap of thunder.
“How far away is it, then?” Maggie asked, peering anxiously into Eleanor’s face. “I counted two seconds. Is that two miles?”
Eleanor swallowed. “Ja, so they say.”
“Will she get struck by lightning?”
“Maggie!” Maem stood up so quickly from the table that her chair fell over backward. “Don’t say such things!”
The rebuke frightened Maggie even more than the lightning storm. Eleanor reached over and put her arm around the young girl. “She’ll be fine, Maggie. God will see her home safely. And mayhaps that would make us all feel better. To pray, ja?”
They stood together and bent their heads, silently praying to God for the safe return of their sister. Eleanor added the extra prayer for her sister to never find out about John Willis so that the hole in her heart could begin to close. While she knew that she would accept whatever God planned for her sister, as well as herself, she suspected asking for it might not hurt, either. If nothing else, it made her feel better, knowing that she had unburdened her fears onto the shoulders of the Almighty.
The rain began to fall so hard that it streamed down the windows, making seeing anything beyond the glass almost impossible. It looked as if someone had created a waterfall along the roofline and poured an endless stream of raging water along the front of the house. The sky lit up, and almost immediately a booming clap of thunder followed.
Maggie screamed and ran to her mother, burying her head in her shoulder. “I heard it sizzle!” she cried. “Oh, Mary Ann! Come home!”
“Christian will find her,” Eleanor said, hoping to reassure Maggie as well as her mother. “He cares for her so.”
Regardless of her reassurance the three of them paced the floor and, in silence, worried to themselves. Eleanor continued to look out the window, hoping to see her sister walk up the lane, but to no avail. After ten minutes had passed, she moved to the door, peering outside and searching, in vain, for Mary Ann. The rain continued to fall, and the lightning storm lingered overhead, each electrifying crack followed by a horrifying boom from the thunder. Maem began to weep, her head in her hands, and Maggie sat down in the rocking chair, not speaking as she pushed with her feet, back and forth, waiting.
Another five minutes passed, and Eleanor saw something in the mist of the storm. A figure moving toward the house. Dressed in all black, the man seemed to move slower than normal. His arms were burdened by something heavy, and as he approached the house, Eleanor could see that he carried the limp form of her sister.
“Christian!” she cried, and with total disrega
rd for the storm she ran out the door and raced toward him.
“Stoke the fire and get the haus warm!” He hurried as fast as he could with Mary Ann in his arms.
Eleanor did an about-face and ran back to the house, her feet slipping twice on the grass. She called out to her mother that Christian had found Mary Ann, but from the look on her mother’s face when she reached the house, she could tell that her mother did not hear her. “Hurry, Maem,” she instructed. “We need warmth in the house. She’s soaked through and through.”
“Mary Ann?”
“Ja, ja, he found her.”
“Thank the Lord!” Maem cried, her hands pressed together.
Ignoring her mother’s praise, Eleanor pointed toward the wood pile and snapped at Maggie, “Get some wood on that stove so that she can dry off,” she said, hurrying to the back bedroom she shared with Mary Ann. It was damp and cold in that room, but Eleanor knew it was the best place for her sister. At least she could be covered with quilts and prayed over, her family tending to her needs. And, in the future, Eleanor knew she would take better care of her sister, not permitting her to leave the house unless she was chaperoned. But as she turned down the bed, Eleanor suspected that her sister would not want for a chaperone again in the future.
She hurried back into the living area just as Christian entered the house carrying Mary Ann, his hair plastered to his head and his shirt clinging to his chest. The look on his face merely confirmed what Eleanor already knew: he was a man in love. Whether Mary Ann returned the affection did not matter to him. His actions had already proven that, for him, love was not merely a delight or a diversion. For Christian love was a sacred gift from God, and regardless of whether he loved in vain, he would act with honor and integrity.
“She’s freezing!” he cried out as he entered the house. “Warm clothes and blankets. Quick!”
His command of the situation caused a flurry of activity. Maem followed him into the bedroom, and Maggie ran to the trunk in her mother’s room for blankets. As soon as Christian set Mary Ann on the bed, Eleanor quickly removed her boots while Maem began unpinning her dress. Discretion mandated that Christian step out of the room, although Eleanor noticed his reluctance to do so, his worry for Mary Ann far greater than his prudence.