It was a miraculous transformation. An almost unbelievable one.
One that she dared not trust.
Fancifully, she half imagined that the scars on the outside of his body had helped to heal some of the aches and fissures in his soul. She’d never understood why a man like Daniel had been so intent on being dissatisfied with his life. She’d always believed his family to be patient and caring. They’d treated her kindly before opting to move to Lancaster County in Pennsylvania.
And the Lord certainly knew that she had tried her best to be a good wife to him.
All night, snippets of their life together flashed by in a jumble of memories. Jagged scenes filled with private pain and furious accusations. Memories of animosity and disappointment. Some stated loudly, others borne in silence.
They’d been two unhappy people pulled together by an arranged marriage born of a desire for good land and social standing. They’d lived each day bonded by irrefutable vows and poorly kept promises.
She’d survived by avoiding him as much as possible.
And Daniel? Well, he’d found the best method of freedom . . . he’d simply left. In truth, no one had been more excited about the thought of entering the war than he.
To her shame, no one had been more eager to see him go than she.
Now, as the distant horizon turned milky gray, she lay on her side wondering what the Lord intended for them both to do, when she heard him stir. She clutched her favorite worn, frayed quilt to her chest as she heard the rustle of the husk-filled mattress beneath him every time he shifted. Of him slipping on his boots. She heard the door open and shut, then open again.
And then footsteps approached the bedroom.
As his feet shuffled closer, her heart began to beat faster. Dread warred with curiosity as she waited for the door to open. One minute passed. Two.
But never did the handle turn.
Only when she heard him opening the front door again did she climb out of her bed and scramble into her dress.
Back before he’d left for the war, their roles had been firmly in place. He worked the land; she cared for the animals. He managed their money and their time. She worked to accommodate him as much as she could.
Which was why—after she’d carefully fastened her gray wool dress together, pinned up her hair, arranged her kapp on top of it, and at last slipped on her shoes and stockings—she was so surprised to see that he’d gone out to the barn.
After pumping some water to heat for coffee, she gazed through the kitchen windowpane and stared at a flicker of light moving through the barn’s interior.
Back and forth it went, seemingly without reason.
Obviously, Daniel was looking for something that couldn’t be found.
After another minute of watching the light bob and dip, she decided to go out and see what he needed. Surely he wasn’t trying to milk Trudy? Trudy was temperamental on the best days.
However, when she stepped into the doorway of the barn, she realized Daniel wasn’t milking at all. Instead, he was walking along the circumference of the walls, his hands stretched out flat against the planks. His posture was rigid. And from what she could see of his face, he looked full of intent.
It was a mighty strange sight, indeed.
So much so that it suspended her reverie. “What are you doing?”
His head whipped around. For a split second, his eyes were wide. Filled with apprehension.
Before they went carefully blank.
“My activities are none of your concern,” he said at last.
She flinched. Stepped farther away from him.
Upon seeing her reaction, he scowled for a moment, before the muscles in his face eased and his tone turned fluid. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to frighten you. What I meant to say was that I thought I’d take a turn around the barn. See how things looked in the light of day.”
“Oh. I see.” She ached to point out that he held a candle in his hand. That the sun had barely begun its rise in the east. And that feeling planks in the wood seemed like a mighty strange way to become acquainted with anything. But she refrained. Questioning would only spur his anger.
At least, that was how it used to be.
“Is there a reason you came in here? Did you need something?”
“Nee. I, uh, came in here because I was curious as to what you were doing.” She reached out, ran a hand along the wall. “You know, I never asked why you first went to the barn instead of to the haus.”
His expression turned even more remote. “As you can tell, the war changed me. I hoped walking around the barn would help me get my bearings.” Looking away, he ran a hand along the barn’s walls again. “I’m still trying to get used to be being back.”
“I understand,” she said. Though she didn’t. Not really. “I mean, I’m trying to understand.”
He smiled tightly. “And I am trying to adjust to being home. We simply need some time, Sarah.”
She gripped a fistful of the skirt of her dress and squeezed tight. Just as she used to do when she was unsure of the state of his temper.
“Daniel, I was thinking that we should pay a call on the bishop.”
“Why?”
“To let him know of your return, of course.”
“What do you think he is going to say, Sarah?”
She squeezed her fist tighter. Surely causing terrible wrinkles in the fabric. “What do I think he’ll say about what?”
“About my return.” His brows rose. “Do you expect that he’ll be mighty pleased to see me? Or, perhaps, do you think he’ll be forthcoming about the community’s treatment of you?”
His voice was filled with sarcasm and bitterness.
“I think our bishop will be grateful that you’ve returned, Daniel. I’m sure Jeremiah will.”
“Jeremiah?”
“Our preacher. Don’t you remember?”
He shook his head. “Oh, but of course. The names and places still get jumbled in my head.”
She remembered just then that he’d said he’d lost his memory for a time. “Ah. Well, I think everyone is going to be mighty glad to see that you have returned safe and sound. That is what I think will happen.”
His expression clouded again. “I think it would be best to wait before we see others. I don’t want to pay a call on the bishop today.”
She nodded before turning back to the house. Though she had so many questions . . . for once there was nothing left to say.
AFTER SHARING A breakfast of cornmeal cakes slathered with butter, John loaded his shotgun, sheathed his knife, and went out to the woods. He was determined to bring back a hare or a squirrel, something for Sarah to make into stew for supper. The woman was painfully thin—it was obvious that she’d been subsisting on far too little for far too long.
She’d carefully folded her hands over her chest when he told her of his plans. “Do you think going out hunting is a gut idea, Daniel?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Her nervousness surprised him. Surely she didn’t believe he wasn’t able to provide for her?
She worried her bottom lip. “No reason. But, um, it’s just that one can get lost in the woods easily . . .”
It was almost as if she’d read his mind. He’d been hoping to make enough markers to return easily. He could only imagine that ruckus it would create if he showed up uninvited and unannounced on another person’s property.
But remembering Daniel’s pride—and his own self-respect—he pushed away her concerns. “I’ll be fine, Sarah.”
“Would you like me to come with you? I’ll be quiet. I promise.”
He felt so bad for her . . . and so incensed with Daniel. What kind of man ran roughshod over a beautiful, sweet woman like Sarah?
However, he was determined to keep to his plan, and to seek a little bit of private time. “I’ll be fine on my own,” he said tersely.
In truth, he needed some time to himself. Every time he was around Sarah, he found himself thinking about othe
r things than his real reason to be at the farm—and that was to locate the jar of money Daniel had bragged was hidden near the barn. Only when he found it would he be able to move on with his life. Only then would he be able to reinvent himself, and this time for good. Without that money, he was nothing but a poor man with a painful past and no future to speak of.
Now, as Sarah continued to stare at him in a troubled way, it was obvious that only a history of being derided made her hold her tongue.
“Daniel, please. Please be careful.”
“I will.” As an olive branch, he said, “Also, about church tomorrow, I’m thinking that you were right. It would be best if we went.”
Her eyes widened. “You do?”
“Jah. It is time. After all, I am back, right?” He also was anxious to meet the rest of her church community, these folks who were so devout that they were willing to practically shun Sarah because they were upset about her husband’s choices. He couldn’t wait to look them in the eye.
“Jah.” But she still looked so afraid of him, he wasn’t sure if she was relieved or further dismayed by his proclamation. “All right, Daniel. I’ll plan for us to go church tomorrow. If that is what you wish for us to do.”
She was everything he had ever desired. Submissive, gentle. Everything that he’d yearned to have. Everything he’d never imagined he’d have.
Reflecting on how she’d felt in his arms, when she’d dared to relax in his embrace for that split second, he wondered again about what kind of man Daniel Ropp had been. What kind of man mistreated a woman like her?
What kind of man put his life in jeopardy when he had her by his side?
Realizing she was staring at him, still patiently waiting for a response, he bit one out. “It is.”
As he’d expected, she retreated, looking slightly chastised.
He made himself ignore his feelings of remorse. Instead, he slapped his hat back on his head, gripped his shotgun securely, and headed toward the woods. Only when he was out of sight did he lean against the trunk of an old elm, exhale slowly, and dare to face the truth:
He had become a very bad man. A terrible man.
And even though Daniel had abused and berated his wife . . . Even though he’d broken his promises about cherishing her and looking after her . . . Even though he’d even gone so far as to steal from her . . .
John was worse.
It was difficult medicine to swallow. Especially in the light of day.
Four
The Celebration
“TODAY IS THE day,” Ezekiel Graber—Zeke to most everyone who counted—said to his sister Ana. “This afternoon, after services at the Millers’, I’m going to ask Sarah if I can court her.”
Curving his hands around his mug of hot coffee, Ana’s husband, Noah, grinned. “Asking her at church is a gut plan. After all, she can’t refuse you after praying for three hours!”
“She’s not going to refuse me because she’s got to realize by now how much I care for her,” Zeke said with a little more confidence than he actually felt.
Ana raised her brows. “She knows?”
“Nee. But surely she has to guess.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed. “Or, perhaps not.”
Zeke hated to admit it, but he feared his sister might be right.
It seemed he’d spent most of his life waiting for Sarah. For two years he’d been waiting. Sometimes patiently, sometimes not.
He didn’t fault his feelings, though. At last, it was time to court Sarah Brennaman.
His admiration for Sarah had started too many days earlier to ever attempt to recall. Perhaps it had been when he’d eaten next to her one balmy spring afternoon at her parents’ home. Maybe it had been years later, when they’d played side by side in a March snowstorm. They’d dodged snowballs and threw others with such force that her older brother had gotten a mouthful of snow.
Oh, but they had laughed and laughed about their victory.
All Zeke had known was that she was such a prize, it was necessary he do everything that was proper with Sarah. He needed to bide his time. Wait until the timing was right. Until she was of courting age.
Therefore, he’d been in a state of anxiousness all those years ago, when he’d waited and waited for the perfect day to approach her with his heart. He’d silently counted the days until her parents deemed her old enough for courting, planning and plotting as to how he would declare his interest. Many nights had been spent tossing and turning, imagining her reaction. Imagining how it would feel to take her out, anticipating the pride he’d feel when everyone in their valley would realize that Sarah was his.
But Daniel had been quicker.
Just two days before Zeke had knocked on her door, Daniel had paid her a call. And because Daniel Ropp was everything her parents had ever wanted, she’d soon become his only company.
Not Zeke’s.
Zeke had been forced to stand off to the side while she smiled at Daniel. When Daniel had taken her on a buggy ride. When he’d begun to hover over her with a proprietary air.
Zeke had been forced to hold his tongue because that was the Amish way. They didn’t gossip about each other. They didn’t besmirch each other’s reputation.
But Zeke had ached to. He had known from the first moment that Daniel not only didn’t deserve her, but wouldn’t make Sarah happy. Daniel Ropp had always been a bit too assured. A bit too rough. There had always been something about the other man which seemed a bit too worldly. A bit too crass for a gentle girl like Sarah.
So Zeke had held his tongue, but his adherence to their code of honor had brought him little besides heartache.
Soon, Daniel was accompanying her most everywhere. Most folks said their relationship was serious. He’d ached to tell her that she was making a mistake, but his conscience told him to bide his time. And his brother cautioned him to keep his silence. After all, it just wasn’t done to interfere with another couple’s romance.
But still, he’d waited for her to realize just what kind of man Daniel was. But she never did. Or maybe she hadn’t cared.
Because all too soon, Sarah married Daniel. With their exchange of vows, they’d effectively ruined his life.
Day after day, then month after month, he’d watched her from a distance. Watched her become smaller, paler. It was evident to everyone that the relationship was taking its toll. And though it was a sin to want to break up a marriage, he’d still found himself unable to think of anyone else but Sarah.
But though they were friends, she’d never uttered a complaint, only held the faint echo of disappointment in her eyes.
Daniel’s going to war had been a blessing for her, he was sure of it. And though many in their community had shunned Sarah, disdaining her as they had disdained Daniel’s decision to go, Zeke had done everything he could to keep her included in their activities.
He’d even conveniently used Daniel’s absence as a reason to visit her, to help her as he could. Still, she’d remained loyal to her husband . . . and he was respectful of that.
Later, when they’d heard that Daniel had passed away, Zeke had persuaded himself to believe that the Lord had intervened. Had wanted to help Sarah escape such a terrible situation, and maybe, possibly, He’d felt for Zeke, and had wanted to answer his prayers, too.
Weeks and weeks went by. Then months. All the while, Sarah continued to struggle, managing her small farm on her own. But now, the elders of the church were beginning to suggest that it was time for her to remarry. Because of that, Zeke knew men would soon begin calling on her. Even if they didn’t desire Sarah, she was living on a parcel of valuable farmland.
And because life was too hard for a woman on her own, Zeke knew he was bound to lose her again if he tarried much longer.
“If you start courting, things are going to be a bit different around here,” his sister said as she stood and carefully wrapped up the remains of their breakfast. “But I guess we’ll figure out how to manage that soon enough.”
&
nbsp; “We’ll make do.” Or, perhaps, Sarah would want him to move to her place after they married. That would be the best thing to happen, for sure and for certain. That way Ana and Noah could continue to live on their farm.
As Ana pulled on her thick wool cloak, she looked him over. “Do you feel ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I think.” With effort, he attempted to tamp down his excitement.
“You have been a good and faithful friend to Sarah and to Daniel’s memory. No one could ever fault your loyalty.” Reaching out, she clasped his arm and squeezed his biceps gently. “It is wonderful-gut to see you so happy. Why, your eyes are fairly shining!”
So was his heart. In fact, he was so filled with eagerness and anticipation, Zeke felt sure that everyone in the whole church district was going to guess that he was the happiest man in the area just by glancing in his direction.
“I’m only going to talk with her. Ask if she’d like to go for a walk.”
“She might not,” Ana warned. “It’s fairly cold out. There’s frost on the ground.”
“Jah, but the sky is blue and the sun is shining. And since I’ll be with her, she’ll hardly notice the frost.”
When his sister giggled, he felt himself blush. Why, he sounded giddier than a schoolgirl!
Ana patted his arm as they joined Noah and started walking toward the Millers’ farm. “I hope it goes well, bruder. I really do.”
After almost an hour walk, they arrived. To his surprise, there was almost a festive atmosphere. Children were playing, ladies were all smiles, and men’s voices were louder than usual. Laughter and teasing erupted every so often from the open barn doors.
Zeke raised his brows at Ana. “I wonder what is going on?”
“Most likely someone heard good news about the war,” Noah murmured. “Maybe Mary heard about John Paul. I know she’s been worried about the lack of letters she’s received from him. Maybe he’s finally on his way home. Wouldn’t that be a blessing?”
“It would, indeed.” Like Daniel Ropp, John Paul had volunteered to serve in the Union army. But while the other men’s names had been listed as deceased, no word had been written about John. No one—not even his family—had heard from him in weeks. His parents and sisters still kept their hope alive, sure that they’d hear good news one day soon.
Redemption Page 3