by Ruth Reid
LeAnn rose from the chair. Her face red and eyes puffy, she stared at Grace as she hurried out of the room.
“I’ll give you two some time to talk.” Grace turned. Her father wasn’t in a pleasant mood, not after a long morning interrogating LeAnn. This wasn’t a good time to bring up Ohio.
“Grace, sit down,” Daed said.
She glanced at her aenti, but her expression held no clues. Grace sat next to Aenti Erma and folded her hands in her lap.
“How did it go at the police station?” he asked.
“The detective took our statements. He said Gordon wouldn’t be a threat. He had other charges besides kidnapping.”
“I’m glad Ben was with you and you didn’t have to go through it alone. Erma tells me he’s a nice young man.”
Grace nodded. “He is.”
His brows lifted. “And respectful of you?”
She lowered her head and nodded. His question probably stemmed from seeing them in the yard kissing last night. She didn’t want to explain that. Ben held her rather firmly until she surrendered, but her father would be more curious as to why her hands went from pushing against his chest to going around his neck, encouraging his embrace. Her face heated at the memory of furrowing her fingers through his thick, golden locks. Ben had a way of putting a static charge on every fiber within her. Even just thinking of him made her arms pucker with bumps and the hairs stand on end.
“Erma and I have talked,” he said, clearing his throat.
A shot of hope infused Grace’s body.
“We’ve decided to send LeAnn back to Ohio with Erma.”
“Oh . . .” Grace slumped in her chair.
“I know you want to find out about your condition.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m nett sure that’s a gut idea. And I’m nett convinced you’ve thought it through.”
She sank further into despair. Her throat swelled, preventing her from agreeing or disagreeing, and that was probably for the best. She would only be lying if she agreed. She had thought through the decision to see a specialist for several months.
“But Erma has practically become your mother since your mamm passed away, so . . . in this situation, I believe she should have a say in the family matters. After all, Erma is . . . part of our family.”
Grace sat taller in the chair.
“She believes you’re old enough to make your own decisions. I only ask that you pray for God’s guidance and you accept His will.”
“Jah, I will.”
He sighed. “This haus is going to be lonely this summer with all you women gone.” His gaze shot beyond Grace, and his eyes lit.
“Yes, well, we will . . .” Aenti Erma stammered. “We’ll be sure to bake peanut-butter cookies before we leave and mail you care packages while we’re away.”
“I hope you send brownies too.”
Grace pushed her chair away from the table and stood. “I think I’ll just . . .” Neither one of them seemed aware she was leaving the room. Grace went outside for a breath of fresh air. She had so many things to do—to pack. It would take the better part of the week to catch up on her father and brother’s dirty laundry and get the house in order. They hadn’t had a chance to finish the spring-cleaning. She inspected the windows. The ones in the sitting room and kitchen were spotless, but the bedrooms still needed cleaning. She glanced at the ground outside her window and spotted the pebbles Ben had thrown. Grace squatted down and collected them. Rolling them over in her hand, she walked back into the kitchen. But finding Aenti in her father’s arms, Grace halted in her steps. She spun around, but not before Aenti gasped.
“Did you need something?” her father asked.
Grace swiped Gordon’s Mason jar off the counter. “I’m leaving.”
“What do you have there?”
She turned around, a wide smile on her face. “Pebbles. Would you like some to throw at Aenti’s window tonight?”
His eyes widened, but that wasn’t as startling as seeing her father’s face turn the shade of hot embers. “Grace Elizabeth.” He pointed to the kitchen entrance. “Go.”
She rushed out of the room and shot down the hallway. Once inside her bedroom, Grace opened the Mason jar and removed the river rocks. Gordon’s words echoed in her mind. I have a weak mind . . . but I have God’s power, like David had against Goliath. Grace turned the five stones over in her hand. Did they represent the same number of stones David had used?
Grace returned the stones to the jar, adding with them the pebbles from outside her window. God had used her infirmity to form a bond with Gordon in the woods, which was probably why Gordon had come to her rescue with Jack. Her thoughts sobered. For the first time since Grace had discovered she was different, she was thankful for her condition.
Was it wrong to want to be normal? Tears trickled down her cheek. Gordon had accepted the way God had made him—why was it so difficult for her?
Chapter Thirty-Five
Fishing passed the time, but the solitude in the river did nothing to diffuse Ben’s thoughts of Grace. Every evening that week he had stopped by her house hoping she would go for a walk or sit on the swing with him, but she’d refused. If he wasn’t so determined to capture her heart, he might have developed a complex, receiving so many rejections.
But tonight would be different once he presented her with his first catch of the season—a nice ten-inch steelhead at that. Ben trekked across her yard, fish in tow. His waders left wet footprints on the porch steps and a puddle next to her doorstep as he waited for someone to answer his knock.
“Ben?” Grace’s forehead puckered either with surprise or at his fishy scent.
“I wanted you to have mei first catch. A token of appreciation for letting me use your pole.”
“Danki.” She opened the screen door wide enough for her hand to pass through and reluctantly accepted the catch chain holding the lone fish.
“I’ve never tasted river trout before.” Please, invite me to supper.
“We’ve already eaten. But I’ll put it in the icehaus for another time. If you give me a minute, I’ll be right back with your chain.” The screen door snapped and she disappeared. A few minutes later, she handed him the empty chain.
“I’ll walk to the icehaus with you,” he said.
“That isn’t necessary. I have to clean and wrap it yet. Danki again.”
A sigh dragged out and he hung his head like a whipped dog. The woman was impossible. That fish was a prize catch she barely acknowledged. He plodded back to the bishop’s place, removed his waders, and hung them on the hook inside the shed, then ambled toward the house. A lantern was aglow in the sitting room and Bishop Yoder looked up from reading the Bible as Ben entered.
“Did you catch many?”
“One. I gave it to Grace.”
Bishop Yoder closed the Bible. “I used to pick flowers in mei mamm’s garden to give to Mary.” Bishop Yoder cracked a smile. “They smell better—and there’s probably more of a chance you’d get invited inside if you didn’t smell like a fish.”
“I haven’t seen any flowers in bloom.”
“Soon.”
Ben nodded. But nett soon enough.
“You received a letter today.” Bishop Yoder reached over to the lamp stand, then handed Ben the envelope. “I also received a letter from your father.”
Ben glanced at the handwriting on the envelope. His mother’s. “I suppose mei father told you I’m a lousy sohn for nett writing. Worrying mei mamm.”
“Him as well.”
Ben snorted, then tried to cover it up with a cough.
“Would you like to talk about what’s bothering you?”
Ben had already confessed to the indiscretions with Neva and the bishop had led him in prayer, asking for Jesus’ forgiveness for his sins. “I don’t feel like a new creature, as it says in the Bible.”
“Perhaps you’re harboring unforgiveness in your heart.”
“If you’re referring to mei father, it’s him who ca
n’t forgive. I’m sure the letter he sent prior to mei arrival spelled it out. I’m his wayward offspring that’s brought nothing but heartache and disappointment.”
Bishop Yoder stood. He ambled over to the desk at the far side of the room, opened the top drawer, and removed an envelope. “I think you need to read this.”
Ben noticed his father’s handwriting the moment he removed the sheet of paper. He read the first paragraph and looked up. “He wants me to reach mei full potential—to become the man God called me to be?”
Bishop Yoder nodded.
Ben continued reading. Honest, loyal, kindhearted . . . the traits his father listed about him brought tears to Ben’s eyes. “He’s never told me any of this. I assumed his letter was about the things I’ve done that embarrassed and disappointed him.”
“He loves you and wants you to be a God-fearing man who serves the Lord.”
“I should tell him I’ve decided to be baptized and join the church. According to the letter, that has been his prayer.”
Bishop Yoder patted him on the back. “He’s given me his work number. If you’d like to call him, I’ll be happy to take you to an Englisch friend’s haus to use their phone.”
“Jah, I would like that.”
After saying good night, Ben retreated to his bedroom to read the letter from his mother. His thoughts drifted to Grace. When he called his daed, he’d ask him to send shoe-making supplies. Perhaps Ben would become a shoemaker after all.
Ben drove the wood planer down the side of the log. Debarking logs was strenuous, but even more taxing was wrestling with his feelings for Grace. He hadn’t seen her all week, despite the nightly fish offerings he’d brought. His courting method was wrong, but the tulips, which Mrs. Yoder said were the first flowers of the season, hadn’t bloomed. He glanced at the cedar shavings on the floor and remembered her dog beds.
Later that evening, Ben stood on Grace’s porch with a bagful of cedar clippings in one hand and a large package of flayed brookies in the other. He quit fishing with Philemon early so he’d have time to clean the fish, wash up, and change his clothes. He hoped Grace would notice the effort. The door opened and Grace’s father smiled.
“You certainly have a knack for catching fish,” Reuben said, eyeing the package in Ben’s hand.
“I’d rather catch your dochder’s heart—” His thoughts slipped off his tongue, causing his face to flame.
Reuben smiled. “I know what you mean.” He stepped outside. “I’ll walk with you to the icehaus.”
Ben’s heart rate hiked. Did Reuben think Ben had pestered Grace too much?
“It seems Grace is determined to live with her aenti in Ohio.” Reuben sighed. “I’ve delayed the trip as long as I could, but she’s leaving on Thursday.”
“In two days?” The air left Ben’s lungs.
Reuben yanked the icehaus door open. “I’m afraid so. I don’t like the idea either.”
Ben tossed the brown-paper packages on the shelf next to the others. God, please . . . I don’t know what else I can do.
“I’m nett sure what all she’s told you about her . . . condition.”
“Her limp? That’s nothing a gut pair of shoes won’t fix.” Ben’s daed was shipping supplies. “Can’t you delay her another week? Just one more week?”
“It’s nett about one leg being shorter than the other. Her mother died of complications from muscular dystrophy. Grace hasn’t been diagnosed, but she shows all the same delayed motor functions and muscle fatigue as her mamm had at her age. She’s determined to see a specialist.”
“Can’t she be cured in Michigan?”
Reuben’s eyes swelled with tears. “There is nay cure.”
“She never told me,” he whispered.
“She watched her mother suffer, especially at the end. Eleanor spent the last few years of her life wheelchair-bound and spoon-fed.”
Ben swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
“I just thought you should know.” Reuben swept his hand over his face. “I don’t think delaying her trip will do any gut.”
“Maybe nett. But I’m in love with your dochder and I’ve been praying—feels like every waking minute—and I haven’t lost faith that God will provide a miracle.”
Grace tossed a handful of clothes into the crate she planned to take to Ohio. Leaving her friends and family would prove more difficult than she expected. Even her nephew Jonas had cried when the entire family gathered for supper tonight. Grace had tried to reassure him she wouldn’t be gone long, but the five-year-old had no concept of time. Now Grace was starting to believe it’d feel like forever. But she blamed Ben for those feelings. Not seeing him—even to reject his invitation to sit on the swing—would leave a hollow space in her heart.
Something pinged against the window. Grace strode across the room as Ben lobbed another pebble at the window. She hoisted up the window. “What are you doing? You know you’re nett supposed to be here this late.”
“We have to talk.”
“Ben, it’s late.”
“I’m nett leaving.” His voice rose to a pitch that woke Rusty, who started barking.
“You’re going to wake everyone up.”
He lifted his arms, then slapped his hands against the sides of his pants. “You don’t like mei fish, maybe you’ll like mei singing.” He belted out a few out-of-tune notes of a song she’d never heard before, causing Rusty to howl.
She shut the window, rattling the pane glass, and stormed outside to quiet him. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Don’t you like mei song either? I made it up for you.”
She figured it hadn’t come from the Ausbund when he sang, “Woman, you’ve broken my heart.” She crossed her arms. “It’s lovely, and I’m sure everyone within the settlement has heard you.”
Ben cuffed his hands on her upper arms and stepped closer. “Grace, don’t go to Ohio. I love you. I want to marry you.”
A lump formed in her throat. She forced herself to look away from his penetrating gaze.
“You love me too. Don’t deny it,” he said in a deep, husky whisper.
She tried to step back, but he tightened his hold. “You love me.”
She shook her head. “I won’t—I refuse to love you.” Her resolve was faltering. “Ben, you said Neva was pregnant. Maybe you didn’t know where she was sent, but you know nau. You need to honor your commitment to marry her. Take care of your boppli.”
“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? You-you think I’m the father?” He shifted his feet. “We’ve never.” His face turned red as he shook his head. “We’ve never had that type of-of relations.”
He muttered something under his breath about Toby being responsible, and the color drained from his face. He seemed mortified by the thought, something she admired.
Ben rubbed his jaw sheepishly. “Oh, wow. I must be the scum of the earth in your eyes.”
“Nett quite,” she said, toying playfully. “After all, you did rescue me and you kept your promise about getting me across the river safely.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Gut, because I promise to always love you and to treasure you. I’ll be the best husband—”
“Ben.” She lifted her hand.
His Adam’s apple glided down his neck as his eyes searched hers.
“I can’t marry you.” Stand strong. This is the way it has to be.
“I know about your condition. I know you might live your last days in a wheelchair. I want to share your gut days and your bad.”
Her lungs tightened, stealing her air. She spun around, unable to bear his tender gaze. “You don’t know what you’re saying—you don’t know what you would be sacrificing.”
He circled in front of her. “Love is a sacrifice. But love also bears all things, believes all things, hopes in all things, endures all things. That’s how God designed love. When one is weak, the other one will bear their burdens.” He cupped her face and dragged his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping her tears. �
��Tomorrow doesn’t matter as long as we’re together. I promise never to leave your side. I love you, Gracie. I always will.”
She batted tears off her lashes and her heart fluttered when he kissed them from her cheek.
“Please, marry me.” His kisses traveled over her jaw, to her ear. “Say it.” He kissed her earlobe. “You love me.” His ragged breaths fanned her ears, stimulating every nerve in her body to respond.
“I love you,” she whispered, betraying herself. Then she pulled away. “I love you enough to say nay.” Before she lost her nerve, she ran to the house. Grace collapsed on the bed and buried her sobs in her pillow.
The following morning, Grace arose and dressed at dawn’s first light. Not wanting to wake anyone, she grabbed the jar of rocks off her dresser and tiptoed to the door. Before she left for the bus station, she had something to do. She eased outside, making her way down the porch steps and over to her bedroom window. Bending down, she collected the pebbles Ben had thrown.
“What are you doing?”
Ben smiled when she jolted.
She clutched the jar of stones. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“I slept on the porch.” He rubbed his arms. “I could use a cup of kaffi. That is, if you’ve finished gathering your keepsake pebbles.”
“These aren’t . . .”
He removed the jar from her hand, inspected it, then handed it back to her. “You’ve already started a collection, I see. The ones I tossed the other nacht.”
“I don’t want a bunch of pebbles in mei flower bed.”
He cocked his head sideways and smiled. “You’re in love with me—you said so last nacht.” If he had to kiss another confession out of her, he would.
“You’re like the hound, Ben Eicher. One day Rusty showed up on the porch step, hungry and lost. I gave him some attention and he never left.”
Ben’s brows formed a straight line. “I’m just a poor, lost stray to you?” He moved closer, his eyes fixed on hers. “You showed me some attention and nau you think I’m going to hang out on your porch?”
“Where did you sleep last nacht?”
Her words cut to the core. His shoulders dropped and he hung his head. He’d spent the night praying he would be able to convince her to stay—and at the same time he prayed for God’s will and the ability to accept her decision. His stomach knotted. How would he accept this? Technically he wasn’t a stray any longer. He could go home. He and his father had patched things up. Maybe in time his heart would mend. Was this God’s way of turning him into a prayer warrior? God, You’re going to have to see me through this.