Redemption

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  With effort, he controlled the tremor of longing that traveled through him whenever she was near. “I’ve only been looking at the sunset. It’s a fair sight this evening.”

  Sitting by his side, she stretched out her legs. Turned her head in the direction he was looking, and sighed. “It is wondrous, for sure and certain.”

  He noticed she was holding her tongue and forced a chuckle. “But?”

  “But, well, sometimes I still canna place the man who’s sitting next to me with the one I used to live with.”

  They’d had this conversation before. “War changes people, Sarah. I can’t help that.” Ironically, he supposed it was even true for his real self, Jonathan Scott. He’d gone from a no-name orphan to a respected lieutenant. Of course, now he was a reprobate impersonating another man’s life.

  She looked at him curiously. “Daniel, how did it change you?”

  “What do you mean?” It took everything he had not to finger the jagged scars on his face. He would have thought the changes were obvious.

  “I’m not talking about your scars, though of course I know they must be a source of pain for you. I mean, going into battle, being around so many English . . . What was it like?”

  This woman was so sweet. So innocent. How had she married a man like Daniel Ropp? He’d been as forceful and violent as any man John had ever met on the battlefield.

  Tired of lying, of covering up too much, he said, “Being in the camps? It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Sometimes we’d sit around for days, weeks, even. Waiting. In its own way, it was as bad as being on the battlefield. Life is hard for a man with nothing on hand but spare time.”

  She turned to him, scooted a little closer. Her blue eyes widened with interest. “Waiting for what?”

  He tried not to look too long at her perfect features. “Ah, we were waiting for orders. We, I mean, ah, the officers, would station their men in encampments, waiting for missives from some general. Our job was to train and rest. But, like I said, that was a difficult order to follow.”

  “Why?”

  “The men were lonely. After a bit, they got bored. Fights broke out over things that didn’t matter. And disease ran rampant. Everyone was always fighting off a dose of cholera or dysentery or influenza.”

  “I read a few of the newspapers from town. I heard men died of those things.”

  “Indeed they did.” What he didn’t dare tell her was that while many men died of disease from poor sanitation and unclean water, some died from their visits to hungry women who lurked by the camps. He sighed.

  “Anyway, we would have days and days of training for what felt like no reason, of attempting to nurse each other when we had few skills to nurse ourselves, and then with a burst and a call, we’d be thrown into action.” Remembering the blare of the bugles, the sharp commands of their captain, they would rise at dawn and start marching. Half afraid and half excited.

  Because sometimes even fighting the Rebels and putting oneself at risk was a whole lot better than waiting and waiting for nothing.

  “Did you get scared?”

  “I did.” When her eyes widened, he felt his face heat. “Are you disappointed to hear me admit it?”

  She shook her head softly, a faint rose bloom lighting her cheeks. “Nee, Daniel. It’s just that, ah, sometimes, well, you say things that I can’t picture you ever saying before.” She hung her head, obviously embarrassed. “That’s all.”

  Feeling like he’d disappointed her, disappointed them both, he abruptly got to his feet. “I’m going to head to the barn. I’ll be out there late, I reckon.”

  “Do you have to go out there again tonight?”

  “I think it is best.”

  Tentatively, she reached for him. She pressed her hand on his arm, his scarred left arm. And to his dismay, she leaned a little closer, so close, he could smell the sweet scent of the rainwater that she used to wash her hair. “I know you want to keep us apart, that you feel like we don’t really know each other anymore. But I know you’re my husband.”

  Before he could stop himself, he curved his fingers around her palm. Letting her soft, cool skin comfort his calluses. His scars.

  He knew what she was offering, of course. The right thing for his plan would probably be to accept her offer. What man who’d been away from a woman like her wouldn’t have already given in to the privilege of being invited to her bed? From what John knew of Daniel, he definitely would have partaken of her charms.

  But no matter how good an idea it was to accept her offer, John couldn’t do it. He wanted to believe there was still a kernel of decency left inside him. He wasn’t sure if there was—only the Lord would tell him for sure. But somehow he knew if he gave in to temptation, he would cross the line between everything he was and everything he’d always feared he’d become.

  “Daniel? Whatever is wrong?”

  “Not a thing.” Choosing his words with care, he said, “Sarah, you are a beautiful woman. You are a wonderful wife. But I can’t be with you. Not that way. Not yet,” he said, stumbling through every word. “It wouldn’t be right.”

  Disappointment and something akin to pain crossed her features. She pulled her hand away as if the burns had suddenly given her pain. “I see.”

  But of course she didn’t at all.

  She didn’t move. Didn’t say a word as he practically stomped to the barn. He hated to think that he was hurting her in any way. Even worse, he didn’t want her to be embarrassed about what she’d shyly offered. But, by the same token, he knew she would be grateful that he’d declined if she ever did discover the truth.

  After lighting a kerosene lamp, he entered the barn and strode to the back wall. Breathing in the musty fragrance of the wide space, he set the lamp down on the workbench and began to search in the far corner, the place where he’d stopped the night before.

  There were a hundred reasons to continue the search for Daniel’s money jar. He needed the money. He needed a fresh start. He needed to fulfill the promise he’d made to himself months ago when he’d first realized that he needed to take his future into his own hands.

  There were more reasons than he could name, all different variations of the same thing—he needed the money.

  There was no other way to get back on his feet. He knew because he’d spent many a night lying awake during the war, gazing at the stars and wondering how in the world he was ever going to survive life if he survived the war.

  Before enlisting, he’d worked in the stables of a well-to-do family on the outskirts of Philadelphia. It had been the first time he’d lived anywhere for more than six months at a time. The Fishers had been decent people. They’d paid him an honest wage and had even given him two sets of clothes. It was there that he’d learned to shoot and hunt.

  He’d imagined he’d live there for years in relative comfort. But then war had broken out. When Mr. Fisher and his son had enlisted, John had gone ahead and followed suit.

  Then, to his great surprise, he’d become an exemplary soldier. Just before he was injured, he’d learned that both Mr. Fisher and his son had passed on. With their deaths came the realization that he was without a home yet again.

  And so he took more chances in battle and fought harder.

  Soon after that, Daniel had started talking to him about the money he’d hidden. With those conversations came the first glimmer of hope he’d had in ages. With money came independence and a home and a future.

  Those were things he was willing to do almost anything for. Even stealing from a faceless Amish woman. He’d excused himself by reasoning that he was stealing something she didn’t even know existed.

  But then, of course, he’d met Sarah. And everything changed.

  Sarah Ropp was like no other woman he’d ever met, and he was certain it had little to do with her being Amish and everything to do with the way she treated him.

  Sarah looked at him with a combination of relief and suspicion. Gratitude and hope. She made him feel
needed. Wanted. Almost worthy. And though he knew that he most definitely wasn’t worthy of her trust or gratitude, he couldn’t deny feeling a pull toward her.

  Worse, he was beginning to fear that he was becoming dependent on her smiles. For most of his life he’d lived far from a gentle woman’s touch. Only during the war, after earning other men’s respect, had he begun to dream of one day having a wife, of having someone gentle and kind in his life. Someone to help him recover from old wounds and years of hurt and neglect.

  It was ironic that he’d finally found the woman of his dreams, a woman he was finally worthy of . . . but she thought he was someone else entirely.

  Refusing to dwell on his inadequacies any longer, he continued his search.

  It was painstaking work. Daniel hadn’t told him many details about the size of the jar when they’d been huddled in deep trenches of Tennessee. Like a fool, John had never asked. So he wasn’t sure if it was the size of a mason jar . . . or something far smaller.

  By John’s way of thinking, a wad of money really didn’t take up that much space.

  As he hunted and sorted through old crates filled with old nails, building scraps, and twine, Daniel’s voice started ringing in his ears. Reminding him of his purpose.

  “A man cannot be too careful of his belongings,” Daniel had intoned again and again. “It’s best to trust no one when it comes to taking care of them. Otherwise, mistakes can happen. Problems can arise.”

  At first John had wanted to berate Daniel for his bragging, for his too-sure attitude. But then, after a time, he’d started to listen, too.

  One night, after Daniel had bragged about his money jar yet again, John had given in to temptation. “Is that why you didn’t tell your wife about the money? Because you were afraid she’d make a mistake with it?”

  Daniel grunted. “Money is not for women to worry about, John. I would have thought even a man like you would realize that.”

  John had been in no hurry to admit that he’d had little to no experience with saving money. “You seem pretty certain about your views.”

  “I am. Women have no need to worry about money or savings. That is a man’s job.”

  “But what if you don’t come back? I’m sure your wife will be needing the money if she will be living on her own. Or don’t the Amish care about such things?”

  “Of course we care about such things, but Sarah don’t need the money. She’s so timid and shy, she probably wouldn’t even know what to do if she found my money jar.”

  John had wondered about that. As a man who’d grown up with next to nothing, he knew he’d never discount even a lowly ha’penny. “But how will she survive?”

  Daniel waved off his concern. “Sarah don’t need to worry about things like that. She’s going to be nestled in the caring arms of our community, and then she’ll have me caring for her needs again.”

  “You sound so certain.” John thought about death all the time. It was impossible not to. It seemed everyone around them was at risk, either from the disease running rampant in the camps or one of the Confederates’ musket balls.

  “I’m certain because I have no reason not to be,” Daniel replied. “Of course I am going to come back, John. The Lord wanted me to join in this fight of yours. He wouldn’t have chosen me if He expected me to die.”

  “I hope He expects me to live, too.”

  Daniel had laughed at his weak attempt at levity for a good long time. “That’s no way to look at things, John. You need to learn to believe in the Lord. Once you have your faith you won’t worry so much about things you canna control.”

  John had taken Daniel’s words to heart, especially the part about having faith. Times were so tough; only faith in a higher power could make a man feel better about anything they were going through.

  But as far as being certain that the Lord wanted some of them to live while allowing others of them to pass away in a battle or in a sea of pain? John just couldn’t wrap his mind around that. It had taken much willpower for John not to point out that each of them hoped to return. Well, those that had families to go home to.

  Now, he was glad he hadn’t, because Daniel then said the words that had changed his life. “If you knew my Sarah like I do, John, you would understand what I’m saying. I hid my money in a simple glass jar near our barn.” His voice turning sharp, he added, “Sarah knows better than to snoop around things that are none of her business. And she certainly knows better than to do anything with the money if she did find it.”

  “Because?”

  “Because she knows what kind of man I am,” he whispered. “Because she knows for sure and for certain that my displeasure is nothing to be played with.”

  Now, as John sat in the empty barn, thinking about Sarah’s shy offer of their marriage bed, of the way his pulse leapt whenever she was near, he realized that he was more confused than ever about everything in his life.

  Except for one thing—the longer he was in her company, the more he was afraid he’d never be able to simply walk out of her life.

  Her hold on him was becoming too dear.

  Seven

  The Discovery

  THE STORM ROLLED in just after sunset and steadily intensified as the hours passed. The sky turned pitch black. Rain hammered the ground as harsh gusts of wind rattled the walls of the house. Truly it had felt as if a dark force had taken hold of her farm and was steadily punishing it through the midnight hours.

  And because of all that, sleep had been elusive. After tossing and turning for hours, Sarah had finally resigned herself to simply lying in bed and listening to the cracks of thunder, wincing each time lightning illuminated the room.

  Of course this wasn’t the first time a storm of such magnitude had rolled through. But it was the first time that she’d realized she didn’t have to face it completely by herself. Daniel was back. And once more, it didn’t seem like he would be opposed to comforting her fears. For once, he wasn’t even one of her fears.

  Strange, that.

  Giving in to temptation, she crawled out of bed, slipped on her wrapper, and opened her door. Walked to the main room and spied the empty sofa, the pile of quilts still folded neatly on its edge.

  Sleep must have eluded him, too.

  As the wind rattled hard enough to shake the walls of the house, followed by a sharp crack of thunder and a flash of lightning, Sarah shivered. And in that moment, she realized how tired she’d grown of facing everything alone.

  She needed to put her trust in the Lord’s will in bringing Daniel back to her. Though she still didn’t completely trust Daniel, she didn’t fear him the way she used to, either. That had to mean something.

  Hidden inside her was another yearning, for something other than security. It was the fresh awareness she felt every time he was near. Tenderness when he winced from pain. The wave of pleasure when he returned a smile.

  After slipping her feet into old boots and wrapping a shawl around her head and shoulders, Sarah rushed outside to the barn. Freezing rain plastered her hair against her head before she’d taken four steps. Raindrops pelted her skin with enough force that she imagined she would be bruised come morning. Gusts pummeled her body, pushing the cotton of her nightgown and wrapper flat against her legs.

  By the time she made it to the barn’s entrance, she was out of breath and chilled to the bone. With a whoosh and a sigh, she pulled open the large door and pushed her way inside.

  “Sarah?”

  To her left, a collection of tools and nails clattered to the ground, followed by the faintest sound of cursing.

  She stopped and stared, shocked by the sight before her. Daniel held a crowbar in his hands. Surrounding him were jumbled piles of tools, scraps of wood, old papers, and pieces of leather that had all been removed from the far left corner of the barn.

  He glared at her as his voice turned hard. “Sarah, you’ll catch your death in this weather! Why are you out of bed? What are you doing in here? It’s late, you know.”
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br />   She stared at him, horror-struck. Every night since his return he’d been out in the barn. But all this time she had imagined him gazing out the windows, or taking comfort in the animals’ soothing proximity. Never had she imagined the sight before her.

  After scowling at her again, Daniel knelt on the ground and started grabbing at the pile of tools, wood, and nails that he’d dropped. His sleeves were rolled up and his shirt was untucked. As he stood up and turned to her, she noticed that his stance was different. Suddenly, he didn’t look like Daniel at all. Even the scars that she’d taken care not to notice seemed to stand out in stark relief.

  It seemed everything she’d grown to trust had disappeared and been replaced by a fierce-looking man.

  But even in his anger, he didn’t look like the man she’d married. And yet, she realized, she wasn’t afraid.

  Her heartbeat quickened.

  Trying to calm herself, to ease the situation, Sarah took care to keep her voice gentle. “D-Daniel, what are you doing out here? What were you doing with that tool?” Gesturing toward the piles of discarded tools, the mess of scrap wood, the spilled container of grain, she added, “Why were you pulling that peg board off the wall?”

  “Ah, when the wind picked up, a few things blew down. I thought I might as well try and make some sense of it all.”

  She wished she could make some sense of his words. “Daniel, we both know that a strong gust of wind wouldn’t have knocked everything down. And though it’s not very bright in here, it’s fairly obvious that you are definitely not organizing things.” She took a deep breath and a step forward. Summoning all her courage, she said, “You need to tell me the truth.”

  Even in the darkened room, she could tell he was taken aback. After a heartbeat’s time, he rasped, “Sarah, what I am doing is none of your business.”

  Before the war, she would have automatically retreated, fearing his anger. But time spent alone had made her braver—or maybe she was starting to trust her husband?

  She took a tiny step forward, hoping he didn’t notice the tremors in her hands. “What is it you are looking for?” she asked again.