Chapter Two
John Weaver was finding out fast that some decisions only made life more complicated. Take the last six months, for example. Just half a year ago, he’d been living in Indianapolis and working at a tire distributor. For twenty years, he’d been reasonably happy and had a large circle of friends.
If, at times, he thought about his family, and how much he missed being a part of their lives, he pushed those worries away. After all, he’d known when he turned from his faith and became English that that would happen.
But then last spring his nephew Calvin had come to visit, with his little sister Katie in tow.
And everything had changed.
After one sleepless night, he’d made an impulsive decision to move back to Jacob’s Crossing and reconnect with his family. And that step forward had slowly snowballed into a whole new life. At thirty-eight years old!
At first, he hadn’t intended to do more than visit for a while. Then he met Amos at the Kaffi Haus and became a part owner. He moved in above the place and bought a secondhand set of dishes and pots and pans.
Before long, he’d started going to dinner at his sister-in-law’s house once a week. Though he’d always loved his brother Jacob’s family, he soon got to know them as individuals. Little by little he became intertwined in their lives.
All the roots he’d thought he’d severed sprang to life again, digging in with an enthusiasm that took even him off guard. After twenty years, he suddenly felt like he belonged. Maybe he belonged now more than he ever had.
Yes, so much had happened—all just from that first, sudden decision. God had been very busy with him, that was for sure.
All of these things he might have seen coming. Finding a new occupation didn’t surprise him. Loving his brother’s children didn’t, either.
But falling in love had taken him completely by surprise. For a time, he’d been attracted to two women. Jayne Donovan, the librarian. She was vibrant and lovely and joyous. And then there was Mary. Mary, who was Amish and a widow and was struggling to raise her son Abel by herself.
Before he knew it, after much soul-searching, John had made another choice. Against everything he had imagined, he chose Mary. Now he was on his way to finally becoming baptized and embracing his faith, all while working toward developing a stronger bond with both Mary and Abel.
She’d taken to visiting him every morning after Abel went to school, usually sometime around nine or nine thirty. John would be waiting on customers, cleaning tables, making coffee, washing cups and saucers. And then, he’d look up and there she would be. Making his heart warm.
Just like today. She entered the restaurant precisely at nine fifteen, looking as lovely and nearly untouchable as ever. He sought to welcome her with a smile. “You’re here early.”
Her pale green eyes warmed, looking the color of stormy waters on Lake Superior for a moment before she blinked. “For some reason, Abel wanted to go to school early today.”
He chuckled. Already he was starting to realize that Abel was not the type of boy to ever want to spend more hours studying than necessary. “Perhaps there was a test or a project due?”
She shrugged, revealing the dimple that had stolen his heart. “We can always hope, jah?” Her eyes twinkled. “Or perhaps there was a girl. That seems far more likely.”
At twelve? He’d been a restless teen, but even he hadn’t been chafing at the restrictions in his life at age twelve. “He’s a bit young for that, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. He’s twelve in years, but sometimes I think he’s far older in experiences. Losing his father made him grow up faster than others.”
“I know.” He poured her a cup of coffee and carried it out to her usual spot. Mary liked to sit on the farthest stool at the counter. Close to him, yet out of the way of the other customers.
She took the cup with a grateful smile, circling her hands around the circumference for warmth.
“So, can I bring you a treat? What would you like?”
“Nee. I’ve decided to put myself on a donut diet.” When he looked at her in confusion, she grinned. “John, a woman can certainly have too many glazed donuts! If I don’t stop eating them, I’ll most likely turn as round as one.”
John looked her over, not even attempting to hide his appreciation. “I don’t think you have to worry about the calories none.”
“I will if I’m not careful.” She sipped her coffee.
He thought he heard maybe a hint of something new in her voice. Was it wariness? Trepidation?
To his surprise, he felt a knot of fear form inside him. Here, for months, he’d been debating about a future with Mary. With the Amish community. Trying to determine where his future lay, where he fit in. But perhaps she’d already made that choice?
“Does this mean you aren’t going to stop by anymore?” he asked, hating the stress he heard in his voice.
“All it means is that I won’t be eating as many donuts, John.” Tilting her head down, she smiled. “But I think we both know the treats aren’t the reason I come here, anyway.”
“Oh. Are we being honest now?” Because they were the only two in the restaurant, he took the stool next to her and leaned his elbows on the Formica counter.
She swiveled to face him. “Perhaps it’s time, jah?”
“I would miss you if you never came back.” Suddenly feeling like he’d admitted too much, he added, “I’d miss Abel, too.”
“I would miss you, too. And so would Abel.”
Eyeing her again, John realized how much she’d come to mean to him. He’d begun to hope he could ease the faint lines of worry around her eyes. Imagined cradling her in his arms, holding her close. Comforting her. Loving her.
“Mary, you tempt me to join the church,” he blurted. Her eyes widened. Though he regretted the timing and place of his declaration, with some surprise, John realized he wasn’t sorry about his words.
“You would really do that? Without regrets?” she asked.
That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Making decisions without regrets was something he struggled with.
He paused, not wanting to say the wrong thing. “If I thought I had a chance with you.”
“And a chance with me is what you want?”
“Yes. I mean, I think so,” he amended. He felt bad that his words weren’t more flowery. But perhaps the two of them were beyond pretty words. If she wanted honesty, he could be very honest. Heartbreakingly honest.
Her eyes widened as a flicker of suspicion entered her gaze. Good. Now she knew how it felt to lay out a heart and still not be sure how you stood. “When do you think you will know?”
“When I get to know you better.”
She sipped her coffee again, gazed at him, then finally spoke. “Would you care to have supper with Abel and me on Monday evening?”
“I would.” He dug into his pockets and then handed her a scrap sheet of paper and pushed it her way. “Write down your address and I’ll be there.”
Without looking at him, she carefully wrote down her address and passed it back to him. “We eat at six. Is that acceptable?”
“Six is fine. Danke.”
Moments later, she left. Bemused, John picked up her mug and carried it to the sink, replaying their conversation. Well, he’d certainly bared his heart to Mary, that was true.
As he turned on the faucet, he realized something else. While he’d been admitting all his feelings, she hadn’t revealed any of her own.
An hour before supper, Calvin entered Graham’s room without pausing to knock. “What is this about Jenna and a baby?”
Graham, comfortably sprawled across his mattress, opened one eye. “That was yesterday’s news. I’m surprised you didn’t rush over here as soon as you heard, the bishop in tow.”
Calvin paused. “I thought I’d give you some time t
o figure out things before I planned the wedding.”
“Big of you.” Calvin was always making plans and rushing forward. Embracing his role as the eldest brother. As the caretaker of them all.
“When I spoke to Lucy, she said everyone was pretty upset when Jenna left.”
“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose,” he replied, recalling the way they’d all parted. Jenna had been moving like she was asleep on her feet, Lucy had been full of condemnation and anger, and his mother’s movements had been so stiff, she’d looked like she was about to snap in two.
It had also been obvious that not a one of them had believed him.
Still weary, Graham closed that eye again. His head was pounding and he’d already been questioned enough by their mother and Lucy. He was in no hurry for another interrogation.
“Graham, sit up and talk to me. We need to figure things out.”
“Not much to figure out, bruder.”
Calvin stepped forward and closed the door behind him. “Lying in bed with your eyes closed makes no sense as well. You should be doing something to resolve this matter.”
Because Graham knew that Calvin wouldn’t leave him alone until he had his say, he sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. “This matter?” he repeated softly. “That is one way to describe the bed of lies Jenna has sown. There’s not much I can do to resolve this matter when she is lying. I know the truth, Calvin.”
“Mudder is awfully upset.”
Graham winced. He hated that his mother was suffering because of the scene in their kitchen. But even more, he hated his brother’s belligerent, holier-than-thou tone. “I’m sorry Mamm is upset, but I’m not the cause of her grief. Calvin, I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Graham, why would Jenna make up such a story if she didn’t believe it to be true?”
“That’s the point, Calvin,” he retorted as he faced his eldest brother. “I don’t have any idea of why Jenna would say any of it. I hardly knew her.”
Tired of talking in circles—and of defending himself—Graham stood and began to pace. “You must believe me, Calvin. I never even kissed her. If Jenna is indeed with child, it most definitely isn’t mine.”
Calvin eyed him thoughtfully. “You’re speaking the truth, aren’t you? You really are taken by surprise.”
“Of course.” Hurt and ill at ease, he said, “What kind of man do you think I am? How could you even think that I would have that kind of relationship with Jenna Yoder, out of wedlock, without even love?”
Calvin looked away. “People rush . . .”
“People who are in love rush,” Graham interrupted. “But that wasn’t Jenna and me. We only spent some time together.”
Calvin relaxed. Pulling out Graham’s heavy oak chair from his desk, he sat. “All right, then.”
But now that he was all spun up, Graham went on the offensive. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he looked down at his brother. “How could you accuse me of such things, anyway? I thought you believed in me. I thought you knew what kind of person I am.”
“I guess I thought you were the kind of man who was human. Who made mistakes.”
Graham was finally realizing that Calvin hadn’t been upset about his actions, only about the lies he’d assumed Graham had spoken.
That made him feel a little better, and encouraged him to soften his tone and try to get him to understand. “Calvin, I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life. But not like that . . .” Sharing a look with his brother, he added, “And definitely not with Jenna.”
Calvin propped one boot on his opposite knee. “All right, all right . . . I believe you. Completely. But I wonder how I can convince Lucy of your words. She is awfully worried about Jenna.”
“Why would you have to convince her of anything? I’m family. Jenna certainly isn’t.”
“That is true, but she doesn’t always see things that way.” Looking off into the distance, he added, “See, Lucy doesn’t think the best of men. She worries about things that happen behind closed doors. Things no one will talk about . . .” His voice drifted off before looking at Graham again. “But you know that, of course.” With a sigh, he got to his feet. “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”
Graham decided not to comment. After all, there was nothing he could do to change Lucy’s opinion of him. Not if she would think the worst and not listen to his side.
“I hope Jenna will stop blaming me. Do you think she will?”
“I don’t know. If she is making up lies about you, hoping that you’ll reach out to her, then she must be terribly desperate.”
What Calvin didn’t say but what Graham understood was that they both feared that this was merely the beginning—not the end—of things. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if she starts telling other people these lies.”
Calvin swallowed. “People will judge you.”
“I know.”
After another pause, Calvin stood up. “Mamm said supper will be ready soon.”
“I’ll be right down,” Graham promised, though he didn’t fancy the idea of sharing a meal with his family across a tension-filled table.
And when Calvin left, he lay back on his mattress again and closed his eyes, trying to relax. But then his head started to pound as a very dark thought filtered through him.
What if Mattie heard of Jenna’s rumor? What if she heard and didn’t believe him? What would become of the two of them, then? Would they be driven apart before they’d really ever had a chance to begin?
Chapter Three
“Abel, do be careful of the cars,” Mary warned. “Some of the drivers don’t pay enough attention to the road, they’re so busy with their coffee cups and telephones.”
“I am careful,” he muttered under his breath as he continued to dart forward on the side of the road, barely walking with her at all. Hardly acknowledging her at all.
Mary bit her lip and prayed for God to give her direction. Here they were, walking together like they’d always done for years, but everything felt different. And she couldn’t foist the complete blame on Abel’s growing pains, neither.
Much of the confusion stemmed from herself.
Yes, more than ever, she felt like she was at a crossroads in her life, and she was completely at a loss.
Of course, it would’ve been better if she knew what she wanted for her future. Or if she knew what John Weaver wanted.
Taken off guard by the direction of her thoughts, she swallowed a lump in her throat. When had she begun to care so much about John’s feelings for her?
When had you not? a small, secret voice whispered in her ear, reminding her of the things she hoped and dreamed about in the middle of the night.
After all, everything that had been happening was her doing. She’d been the one who had been visiting John Weaver at the Kaffi Haus. She’d been the one who had asked him to spend time with Abel, and to help give him some guidance.
And now she was the one who had invited him to supper on Monday night.
Now it seemed so foolish. Oh, why had she asked him over, anyway? What would everyone say? Even if John was almost a part of the community, he wasn’t. Not really.
Looking at her boy, now striding a good five paces in front of her, his back so straight and slim and proud, she bit her lip. What if Abel wasn’t happy about this upcoming dinner? What would she do then?
“Abel . . .” she began, knowing that she needed to talk to him about John, and about his feelings for the man. The last thing in the world she wanted was for him to feel slighted or neglected.
“I’m fine walking on the road, Mother.”
“Oh, I know that. It’s just . . . Well, I was wondering—”
He turned around, interrupting both her thoughts and her sluggish tongue. “Mamm, do we still have to visit with Aunt Frieda and Uncle Benjamin tonight?”
Glad he was finally looking at her instead of pretending she didn’t exist, and glad for the reprieve from her thoughts, she nodded. “Of course. We always go over there once a week.”
“Why?”
She didn’t know why, exactly. Frieda and Benjamin were Paul’s aunt and uncle. She’d clung to the habit after her husband had died because it was all she knew. But now that it was eight years after William’s death, she had to admit it did seem a little bit strange. Though Abel liked the older couple well enough, it was becoming obvious that the three of them hadn’t developed the close relationship that Mary had once envisioned they would.
And though the couple was terribly kind to her, it had been obvious for some time that they never expected Mary to ever remarry. No, they obviously hoped that she would simply grow older and be reasonably content as her husband’s memory faded just a bit more with each passing year.
“Abel, I suppose we keep going because it’s a habit,” she said at last. “Are you trying to tell me that you’d rather not have supper with them every week?”
“Maybe.” Abel kicked a rock, sending it skittering in front of him, kicking up dust. She watched it roll jaggedly, careening this way and that.
Kind of like her life at the moment.
Finally, she caught up with it. Mary paused for a second, debating whether to kick at it, or step over it. A part of her yearned to kick it with the toe of her boot. Kick it hard, just for the simple joy of watching it fly up into the air and land far ahead of Abel.
But most likely he wouldn’t know what to think about that. Most likely he wouldn’t see her enthusiasm. Only wonder why she was acting childishly.
She left the rock where it was. “I thought you enjoyed being with Aunt Frieda and Onkle William. I know you enjoy their dog Skip.”
“I like Skip fine.”
Well, there was her answer. Making a decision, she said, “I will tell Frieda that we’re only going to visit there one Wednesday evening a month. How does that sound?”
The Survivor Page 2