The Survivor

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  Jenna took one last look at Mary. “What should I do?”

  Mary motioned her forward with her hand. “Go answer. Chris and you need to talk. Plus, you’ve sought shelter here, not a hiding place.”

  Mary’s words were true. She was coming to learn that evading didn’t solve problems. Things just got more complicated. With that in mind, she opened the front door. But the person on the other side of the threshold was not who she expected. “Graham?” she sputtered. “What are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk,” he said, stepping right inside, hardly even waiting for her to get out of the way.

  Though she moved, Jenna wasn’t inclined to follow his directions. “Could we maybe talk tomorrow? Now’s not a good time.” Before he closed the door, she skimmed the yard behind him. If Chris kept his word, he was going to show up any minute, and if he saw Graham here, it was going to be one of the most uncomfortable moments in her life, ever.

  Graham scowled. “It doesn’t matter if you think it’s a good time or not. We need to talk things through. I can’t wait another day.”

  Graham’s six-foot stature loomed over her, as did his discomfort. It emanated off him in waves.

  She knew she deserved his anger.

  “I’m expecting someone, Graham. Are you sure we can’t talk tomorrow? Or maybe even in a few hours?”

  For a moment, he looked like he was going to let her have her way, but then a muscle in his cheek tensed and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think so. This won’t take long.”

  Feeling comforted by Mary’s presence in the next room, she nodded. “All right. What do you want to say?”

  “I want answers to questions, Jenna.”

  “Does that mean you intend to listen?”

  He jerked a nod. “Why did you tell that story? Why did you lie?”

  It was almost a relief to tell him. “Because I was desperate.”

  His eyes flashed. “Desperate? But why would you think I would accept your lie?”

  “From something you told me months ago,” she said. “When we went to that art show and walked around, you said good friends were willing to put up with things out of their control. You said good friends tried to be there for each other. No matter what.”

  “I was talking about Mattie. I was talking about caring for her while she was so sick.”

  “Well, I took it to mean that it also included helping me.” Before he could reply to that, she raised a hand. “Listen, before you say anything else, I want you to know that I realize I was wrong. I’m sorry, too. And I fully intend to tell everyone that you are not the father of my baby.”

  “So who is?”

  “That I can’t tell you,” she said, even as she heard the gravel spit out under Chris’s truck tires. “And believe me, you don’t want to know.”

  He froze. “Jenna . . . did someone force you?”

  “No.” Jenna held his gaze for a moment before tucking her chin again. The look she’d seen there was disconcerting. It reminded her of how she’d hoped he’d look at her when they were at the art show.

  Full of concern and care.

  Boy, had she messed things up between them. Now that time had passed, she knew she’d been half hoping to see a spark between them. Instead, she now knew the difference. Graham hadn’t looked at her with love because he hadn’t loved her.

  She’d been hoping to force things instead of waiting for the right time, which obviously hadn’t come yet.

  She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t forced,” she said, thinking about so much more than just what Graham was asking. “Everything that happened, I did out of my own free will. And the consequences, well, they’re mine to bear, too.” Glancing toward Mary, Jenna silently begged for help.

  Luckily, Mary understood and immediately walked toward them. Just as the front door chimed. “Oh! We have more company!” she said cheerily as she opened the front door.

  And then there stood Chris, looking tall and handsome and terribly sweet.

  Jenna swallowed hard.

  As Graham looked at the newcomer with solemn eyes, she wished she could disappear into the floor. This was really too much.

  “Chris, won’t you please join me in the kitchen?” Mary asked, taking his arm and practically dragging him to the back of the house.

  “Jenna, are you all right?” Chris called out, looking at her over his shoulder.

  Graham stared at Mary and Chris’s backs as they disappeared into the kitchen. “Jenna, why is he here?”

  “To visit, of course,” she said. Feeling at odds and ends, she wiped her sweaty palms on her apron, then opened the door to let him leave. “Now, if you will excuse me, I should probably go speak with him.”

  “Who is he? Is he—” Graham looked toward the kitchen again.

  Jenna heard Chris’s voice float down the hall as he accepted a cup of coffee from Mary. Her uneasiness about the whole situation forced her to finally say what needed to be said.

  “Graham, I’m sorry. I was wrong, I promise I realize that now. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying about you. For lying to you. Though my apology will probably never be enough, I don’t know what else to say.”

  He shuffled to the doorway. Grasping the door handle, he paused again, looking toward the kitchen. Jenna felt her cheeks heat as Chris’s voice flew their way again.

  “I, uh, hope you will have a good evening,” she said. “That is, unless you have any more questions?”

  “Nee. I got the answers I came for,” he said cryptically.

  Jenna watched him turn and walk away, and with a sigh, she closed the door. As she heard Chris’s easy laughter float down the hall, she steeled herself to get ready for the second confrontation of the day.

  Graham’s mind was racing double time. Far quicker than Beauty’s hooves as she clip-clopped along the road.

  Though he usually took time to admire the snow-covered landmarks in Jacob’s Crossing, all he could think about was his visit with Jenna.

  Why had that Englischer shown up? And what did he want with Jenna? Or, perhaps he had come to see Mary? Mentally, he tried to recall how old that man was. Younger than himself by at least two years, placing him around twenty-two.

  That seemed too young for Mary Zehr. She had to be at least ten years older than him.

  No, he’d definitely come to see Jenna.

  As he drove through town, he passed John’s donut shop. The store was closed, but there was a light shining in John’s window. Making a decision, he stopped the buggy.

  With heavy feet, Graham climbed the stairs and knocked.

  Inside, he discovered that the light hadn’t come from the electric lights, but instead from a Coleman lantern.

  Then he noticed that John’s shirt had no buttons. In fact, John looked Amish.

  “Uncle John, what’s going on?”

  “I decided it’s time to make the change.” Patting his shirt, he shook his head with a slight grimace. “I have to say I’d forgotten how to pin my shirt easily. Pricked my finger two times.”

  Spying an open cardboard box on his otherwise bare kitchen table, Graham walked over and inspected it. “Whose clothes are these?”

  “Jacob’s. I mean, they are your father’s.”

  Graham lifted up one of the shirts. Though he figured it was silly, he pressed his nose to the cotton, on the off chance it would smell like his father.

  But of course, it only smelled like the laundry soap his mother favored. “Did Mamm give you these shirts?”

  “She did. She gave them to me a few weeks ago, I just hadn’t been ready to put them on.”

  “What’s different about today?”

  “Mary. I want her to be able to trust me . . .” His voice drifted off. “Graham, does my wearing your father’s old shirt distress you?”

  He wante
d to say no. He really did. He wanted to be more accepting of John, and not feel out of sorts that his uncle—who they’d never seen or heard from much at all until recently—now owned more of his daed’s old things than Graham did. “A little bit,” he finally said. “I never thought my daed’s things would go to someone besides Calvin, Loyal, or me.”

  “If you had wanted them, why didn’t you take them before?”

  “Mamm had them in her room. I thought she wanted the clothes near.”

  “She had the box in your attic. It was obvious no one had looked at the clothes in years. She washed everything again before passing them on to me.”

  Well, that was convenient. Caught off guard by his sudden anger, Graham put the shirt back in the box and picked up his hat. “I think I’ll be going now.”

  “Wait. Why did you stop by?”

  Graham couldn’t believe it—he’d almost forgotten. “Oh, no reason in particular.”

  John’s brows snapped together. “Are you sure? You seem pretty upset. Is there anything new with work? Or Mattie . . .” He paused. “Or Jenna?”

  Graham was almost tempted to smile. There was quite a lot new: He’d realized he was in love with Mattie, but Mattie was still seeing William, who he worked with.

  And Jenna—well, he didn’t even know how he felt about Jenna anymore. For some reason, he didn’t hate her so much. Instead, he simply felt sorry for her, which caught him by surprise. He’d thought for sure that he’d never feel anything but anger toward the girl.

  It was all terribly peculiar. “Everything’s mixed up,” he said.

  “Do you want to talk about it? I’ve felt that way before.”

  “No. Actually, I think I had better go see Mattie.”

  “Are you upset with me? Do you want your father’s clothes back?”

  Having his father’s clothes wouldn’t make the man return. Slowly, he shook his head. “No. Keep them, Onkle. They suit you.”

  John’s eyes widened as he ran a hand down one of his sleeves. “You really think so?”

  “I do,” he replied, surprising himself. “I think they suit you just fine.” Backing up, he grabbed the door handle. “Gut naught, Uncle John.”

  “Gut naught,” he replied. But didn’t move when Graham opened the door and left.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Mattie, Graham has come calling,” her mother called up to her room. “Would you rather not see him? I could tell him to leave.”

  “Nee, don’t do that. I’ll be right there.”

  She scampered down the stairs, then, unable to stop herself, practically leapt into his arms the moment she saw him. “Graham, it’s so good to see you.”

  To her relief, his arms curved immediately around her as she clung. “Mattie? Mattie, good heavens! What’s going on?”

  Oh, but no one else on earth felt like Graham. The taut muscles of his chest and shoulders felt just right to lean into. His height was the perfect size for her to tuck her face into his neck. And his embrace felt the way it had always been. Warm and solid, comforting but not too firm.

  “Mattie?” Graham was soothing her, rubbing between her shoulder blades—right in the area that had been so sore after her surgery. “Mattie, what is wrong?”

  After taking comfort in his arms another minute, she stepped away.

  Blue eyes met hers as a lump formed in the back of her throat. Should she tell him the truth? Or not?

  If she told Graham the truth, it might change the way he thought of her. After all, he had warned her to stay away from William.

  But if she didn’t tell him the truth, the lie would always be between them. Even if Graham never guessed the truth, it would be like a cut between them, festering, infecting everything . . .

  “Mattie, you can tell me anything, right?” Reaching out, he clasped her hands so they were swinging slightly between them. His grip was easy and sweet.

  Slowly, she met his gaze again. When the corners of his eyes crinkled, she saw the unabashed truth there. And that’s when she knew there was only one thing to do.

  Mattie gathered her courage and spoke. “William came here.”

  Holding her at arm’s length, he gazed at her in confusion. “And?”

  “And he kissed me, Graham.”

  In a flash, cold hurt filled his gaze. “I see.”

  Stepping close to him, she shook her head. “Nee! You don’t see. Graham, he kissed me without my wanting. And then . . . he upset me,” she added in a rush. “So I hurt him like you showed me.”

  He blinked. “You did what?”

  Pulling him into the living room, she stopped in front of the fireplace. “I jabbed him with my knee, Graham,” she said, barely blushing at all. “Your trick worked well.”

  It was obvious he was fighting a smile as he sat. “He went down on the floor, hmm?”

  She nodded. “He was terribly hurt.”

  “Gut.” Taking her hands, he rubbed his thumbs along her knuckles again. “Did he hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “No. He scared me, though.”

  “I’ll talk to him, you can be sure of that. Believe me, he’ll be sorry for coming over here.”

  “It may not be necessary. My mamm talked to him, already.”

  “No. He needs to hear from me.” His voice was hard as stone. “What he did wasn’t right. Besides, I told him to leave you alone.”

  That caught her off guard. “Why?”

  “Because—” His cheeks turning red, he stopped. “Never mind. Now isn’t the time to continue our talk. Now, are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Well, I mean, I will be soon.” It was then that she noticed he seemed off—a tension emanated from him, making him seem almost like a stranger. Actually, Graham looked as down and out of sorts as she’d ever seen him.

  Slowly, she realized that he must have been upset about something when he arrived. “Are you all right?”

  “Truly? Nee.”

  “I see.” Mattie noticed his lips were pursed so tight that a faint sheen of white surrounded them. His body was stiff, too. All he did was stare at the fireplace.

  As the flames crackled and her hands and face warmed, Mattie wondered how to help him. Was he waiting for her to say something—just the right thing?

  She didn’t know what that was.

  Perhaps she should offer him comfort? Maybe she could remind him about that Bible verse from Isaiah? As far as she knew, Graham’s faith had never wavered. Perhaps that would comfort him more than anything she could think to say.

  But just as she was about to speak, Graham stretched out his legs and finally looked at her. “I’ve just come from seeing Jenna.”

  Unable to stop herself, she winced. And though it made no sense, being her old, familiar friend, jealousy settled inside of her. “Oh?” she asked in what she hoped was a terribly offhand way. And how did you find Jenna?”

  “Full of news.” Graham was looking at the flames again, but a bit of humor, dark and ironic, tinged his voice. “I went to her house, full of anger and self-righteousness . . . but when I left, I felt humbled.”

  Humbled? “Graham, what happened? What did she say?”

  He turned to her, his beautiful blue eyes full of questions. Making Mattie realize he was only half with her. Part of his mind was back at Jenna’s house, back with their conversation.

  Feeling completely confused, Mattie wrapped her arms around herself and waited. Too much had happened today to understand.

  Finally Graham spoke again. “Mattie, I have a lot to tell you about our conversation. But suddenly, it doesn’t matter so much anymore. And I’m realizing, too, that I don’t want to think. I’m exhausted. Would you mind if we just sat together for a bit? If we sat together and I held your hand, and we just watched the fire?”

  There was only one response she co
uld make. “Of course, Graham. We can sit here as long as you want.” Without another word, she held out her hand.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Three days had passed since Graham had come over and she’d told him about William’s kiss. Three days since he had told her he’d talked to Jenna and felt humbled.

  Three days since they’d put off yet another important conversation.

  And though they hadn’t seen each other—Graham had work and Mattie had been busy with chores around the house—he was never far from her mind.

  When he came over today, he’d been full of smiles, much like the Graham she’d known all her life. Easygoing, happy. Relaxed even though the weather outside seemed to get darker and the rain didn’t let up.

  But as the minutes passed, Mattie began to realize Graham was still as troubled as he’d been Wednesday night. And still reluctant to share his burdens.

  Though the stormy weather outside had her on edge, she doubted the storm warnings were the source of his edginess. They’d never worried him before.

  “Graham, don’t you think it’s finally time we talked? Really talked?”

  Instead of answering her right away, he clenched his hands.

  Fear flew into her chest. Was he still thinking about everything she’d told him? Did he now think badly of her because of what had happened between her and William?

  He opened his mouth, looking to be on the verge of speaking, but then closed his mouth again and shook his head. “I’m fine, Mattie. Please don’t worry. I’ve only had a long day.”

  But his expression told a different story. His face looked so set in stone, it seemed as if a hard knock would crack his skin. With another person, she might have ignored her concerns. Tried not to be intrusive. But this was Graham. And he deserved her pushing—even if it might prove to be uncomfortable for them both. “I’ve had a long day, too. I spent a good three hours washing walls in our guest bedroom and helping wash comforters and quilts.” She shook her arms out. “My arms feel like they’re about to fall off. Time and again, things happen to remind me that my body still has a mighty long way to go to get back to normal.”