Redemption

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  When she regained her composure, Sarah continued. “I lived with Daniel for a year and a half and suffered under his hand. I lived with his arrogance, with his changeable moods and his unhappiness. But most of all, I lived with his anger. It never seemed to disappear. If anything, he became more impatient, more harsh.” Her voice began to crack. “My life with him? Well, it was mighty hard.” After taking a cleansing breath, she added, “It was also hard to see how everyone pitied me—but never tried to intervene.”

  “He was your husband,” Ana, Zeke’s sister pointed out. “There was nothing we could say or do. It wouldn’t have been right.”

  “I agree,” Sarah said quietly. “I knew I was alone, and that I spoke solemn vows saying that I would obey my husband and honor him. But I would also be lying if I didn’t sometimes wish that someone else would offer to help me. I was at his mercy, Ana.”

  John felt his throat burn with heavy emotion. It was hard to watch this gentle woman reveal just how difficult and painful her life had been.

  Sarah continued. “When Daniel left to go join the regiment in Pennsylvania, I have to admit that I was relieved. I knew he was mighty unhappy, and I hoped and prayed that his going to battle would change him. Give him something that our quiet life here in Holmes County had not.”

  Sarah looked around at the faces of everyone again. “When we all saw his name on the list of casualties, I was just as shocked and dismayed as any of you. He’d been such a large presence in my life, I couldn’t imagine the war injuring or killing him.” She sighed. “Of course I prayed for his soul. Of course I grieved for him. But I wasn’t mourning for the man he was, I was mourning the man he could have been.”

  After taking a breath, she gestured to John. “But when this man came into my life, he made me believe in hope again.”

  She glanced his way, and happiness lit her eyes as well as her lips. “When I realized John had taken Daniel’s identity, I felt betrayed, too. No one wants to be lied to. And I didn’t understand why he would do such a thing, either. But if you want to truly know why I didn’t ask him to leave? It is because I knew what married life was like, living with a man I didn’t love. I also knew what it was like to live completely alone. To be scared when snowstorms and thunderstorms came. To be exhausted in the hot summer heat. To know that no matter how much I hoped and prayed, no one was likely to come to my assistance.”

  “I came by,” Zeke said.

  “Yes, you did. And I was grateful for your concern. But I’m afraid I yearned for something more.”

  John watched Zeke flush as her words and their meaning sank in. Then he turned as Sarah continued.

  “But until Jonathan Scott arrived, I’d had no knowledge of what a good marriage could be like. I hadn’t realized that it was still possible for me to be happy.”

  “But you couldn’t possibly have been happy. Why, everything you’d been doing was against the Lord’s will! You chose to live in sin and lie to your friends and church,” Lloyd said. “Sarah, it pains me to say this, but you’ve twisted the truth in order to live with yourself.”

  “Maybe I have twisted things a bit,” she allowed. “But a part of me figured that the Lord had a whole lot to do with John appearing on our land. I don’t believe in coincidence.” Looking into the crowd, she added, “Surely only the Lord could have brought about the friendship of two such different men? One was English, one was Amish, and yet they looked so much alike. Furthermore, they met in the middle of a war—and Daniel trusted him enough to tell him his secrets.”

  Jeremiah gazed at her seriously. “Put that way, it does seem like the Lord had a lot to do with John appearing in our midst.”

  Zeke crossed his arms on top of his chest. “But that doesn’t change how you pretended to be his wife.”

  Just as John was about to announce yet again that he’d never touched Sarah, hadn’t ever done anything more than hold her hand briefly, Sarah spoke.

  “Zeke, when I discovered who Jonathan was, after I forgave him, I agreed to marry him.”

  While the rest of the crowd gasped, Jeremiah’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying, Sarah?”

  “Two weeks ago, I rode by Jonathan’s side to Mansfield and married him in a courthouse. We are guilty of many things. But not of living in sin. We are legally wed.”

  Zeke’s eyes were wide and his cheeks were flushed. “Sarah, you married an Englischer? In an English courthouse?”

  Her chin lifted. “I did.”

  As John expected, there were no smiles of congratulations or offerings of best wishes. Instead there was an almost tangible separation from her by the congregation.

  Except by their esteemed preacher. He turned to John. “Why did you marry her, John? Why did you exchange vows? You could have never done so, choosing to shame her. You could have simply left.”

  It was never so easy to speak from his heart. “I had no intention of shaming her. She is the most virtuous woman I’ve ever met.”

  But Jeremiah continued to press. “Why, then? Was it because you wanted to continue in Daniel’s place?”

  “I wanted to continue in Daniel’s place, that is true. But it wasn’t because I wanted to have land or live in a home of my own. It was because of Sarah.” Pulling his shoulders back, John slowly scanned the thirty or so people surrounding them.

  Dared to meet their eyes.

  Then he raised his voice so that there would be no chance for anyone to misunderstand what he was saying. “I married Sarah Ropp for one reason only: because I’d fallen in love with her. I wanted to have her as my wife.” Gathering his courage, he gazed at her.

  And then it truly felt like they were the only two people in the Millers’ yard.

  “Sarah, though our marriage wasn’t blessed in a church, I meant every word of my vows. I will always love and cherish you. I always intend to honor and hold you. No matter what happens, where I go, what you do, in my heart, you will always be my wife.”

  Tears filled her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled.

  More than anything, John yearned to take her into his arms and comfort her. Hold her tightly, kiss her brow, and say all the words that had been held so tightly in his heart.

  But it wasn’t quite that time.

  John continued. “She and I decided to keep my real identity a secret because I feared what would happen to her if everyone learned the truth. It wasn’t easy. I knew Daniel. Not as well as the rest of you, but I knew him on the battlefield. I spent hours by his side, listening to his views on everything from farming to his faith to the way he chose to treat his wife. I won’t deny his bravery, but I must admit that I had no desire to ‘be’ him. I didn’t respect his opinions on a lot of things.”

  A few men murmured to each other. And John saw Lloyd look at him in a new way. Though it wasn’t going to change a thing about his future, he was glad of that. Ready to be done with all the explanations, ready to pull Sarah away from the many sets of peering eyes, he murmured, “In the end I was willing to be a man I didn’t like very much in order to save Sarah’s reputation. Obviously, even that plan was wrong.”

  “Oh, John,” Sarah murmured.

  After spying the tears that were now running down his wife’s cheeks, he nodded his head to Jeremiah. “Thank you for allowing me to say my piece. And though it might not mean much, I am very sorry for any distress or hurt I have caused. That was never my intention.”

  Figuring that this would be the very last time he would be in their midst, he said, “I am an unworthy man. I know it, and I don’t dispute it. But for a little bit of time, I got to be someone else. I began to imagine that I was worthy of a good woman’s love. I got to feel what it was like to have a place in a real community. For once in my life, I wasn’t alone.” He tipped his hat. “And for that, I want to thank you all.”

  Then, before the crowd could call out more questions or subject Sarah to any more painful revelations, he leaned close to his wife. “This has gone on long enough,” he whispered. “We don’t owe a
nyone another word of explanation.” As she stood there, silently staring up at him in wonder, he wrapped a secure arm around her shoulders. “Let me get you on home now, Sarah.”

  But instead of immediately following his lead, she shrugged off his arm. “Did you mean it?” she asked, pure wonder lacing her voice. “Do you love me? Truly?”

  Though others could hear them—why, some were even shamelessly eavesdropping!—he spoke the words she longed to hear. Proving that he could deny her nothing. “I love you more than you could ever imagine, Sarah. I love you more than I have words to say.”

  Her blue eyes turned languid. Trust and something he wasn’t brave enough to name entered her gaze.

  Then, at last, she let him guide her away.

  Slowly, side by side, they walked. Away from the crowd surrounding the barn. Away from Lloyd and Zeke and the dozens of other people with questions and jibes and hurts.

  Each step felt like it was taking them miles away, but of course that was figuratively. Instead, she was walking by his side, one small step at a time. Making slow progress, but also taking great strides from everything she’d ever known.

  John felt her pain, worried over her impending isolation. Indeed, he had a very good feeling that she might not ever feel welcome in their midst again. And because he was subjecting her to yet another life of loneliness, John knew he’d never felt more undeserving .

  But still, what was done was done. There was no denying that. And no denying that he had to put his trust and faith in the Lord. Because just as he believed that the Lord had brought them together, he knew that He must have also brought Lloyd Mast into their midst for a very good reason.

  John just wished he didn’t hurt so much.

  There seemed nothing to say anymore. Without talking, they got into the wagon and gently nudged the horse forward. Off the Millers’ land and down a vacant road. As the horse trotted along the dirt road, acting as if she was pleased to be free, John searched his mind for a way to make things better for her.

  But of course he could not.

  He’d ruined her life in multiple ways. And he’d already surpassed any chance for redemption.

  “John?” she asked after they’d gone almost a mile.

  “Yes?” he asked, bracing himself to hear her complaints. To hear her crying.

  “Ich liebe dich. I love you.”

  He jerked on the reins so hard the horse protested. “What did you say?” he asked.

  “You heard me. I know that. And,” she added in a low voice, “I think you know what my words meant.” She laughed then, and the sound was light and lovely in the cool evening air. Lightening his spirit in a way he’d never imagined could happen.

  He turned his head and glanced at her. Then, not trusting his eyes, glanced at her again.

  But what he saw was so beautiful and true, a shudder surged through him. So strong and violent, coming as such a surprise—it almost made him stop the wagon.

  Her words were more precious than he ever imagined. Her laughter, her happiness? Why, it was more than he’d ever dreamt.

  So very much more.

  After they’d gone another hundred feet or so, Sarah reached out and carefully squeezed his arm. “John? Don’t you have anything to say? I, ah, thought you would have a response for me.”

  Glad that they were now only yards from their farm’s entrance, John veered the wagon onto their land and finally halted the horse.

  And then, he did what he’d been wanting to do from the moment he first saw her blue eyes. He pulled her into his arms, held her close, and kissed her with everything he had.

  She stilled. For a moment, he thought he’d frightened her. But then she melted in his arms and raised hers, finally encircling him, caressing his scarred neck, his skin. Offering up her lips to his.

  And it was everything he’d ever dreamt of.

  She had accepted him. His sad past. His lack of funds. His scarred body. His faults.

  She’d accepted all of his sins. All of him, and had given him the most miraculous gift in the world—acceptance and love. Love for what he was, not for who he could have been or who he should have been.

  Love for who he was right here and right now.

  And that gift was more precious than diamonds or dreams. It was everything.

  Feeling overwhelmed, he pulled away and pressed his lips to her forehead.

  She looked at him curiously. “Is something wrong?”

  “Not at all.” This time, he felt like he should be the one laughing. “Nothing at all.”

  Her expression gentling, she reached up and ran her hand along his cheek. The scarred one again. “Aren’t you going to say anything about what I said?”

  “About you loving me?”

  Her other hand reached up and brushed his other cheek. Holding his face in between her hands. “Well, yes.”

  “I would love to say something, Sarah. Something right and perfect and lovely. But at this very moment? Truly, I am speechless.”

  She smiled, then.

  And he knew he’d come home.

  He’d come home at last.

  Epilogue

  One Month Later

  AT SARAH’S URGING, they’d decided to walk to the gathering at the Yoders’ house. The invitation to join in the celebration for the family’s newborn daughter had come as something of a surprise, and for several hours after Kristie Yoder had stopped by to deliver the invitation, Sarah had fretted something fierce.

  John had let her fret and stew for a spell, knowing that she sometimes needed that. Then, after listening to her worry for almost an hour, he’d taken control. “I think we should go,” he’d said.

  “But what if everyone scorns us? That would ruin Kristie’s day.”

  “I reckon she’s already considered that,” he said lightly. “After all, she was the one who delivered the invitation. Let’s go,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her brow. “It’s time.”

  “We might merely be ignored,” she said.

  He’d smiled at the hope in her voice. “Ignored is better than being completely shunned, I suppose.”

  And though they’d kept to themselves during the last month, they hadn’t been sent from the community. John had been surprised. He’d imagined that their retribution would be a bit harsher. Even though he knew the Amish were peaceful people, John hadn’t truly believed that the community would ever find it easy to accept him or forgive his misdeeds.

  But to his surprise, the preacher Jeremiah had arrived just a week after Lloyd’s return and John’s confession. Sarah had been so pleased to see him but afraid, too.

  But Jeremiah was a true man of God. He’d merely accepted Sarah’s offer of coffee—declining her offer of milk and sugar with a smile—and then had settled down for a long talk with both of them.

  It seemed that John’s speech about his love for Sarah had resonated with all of them.

  And that speech, together with everyone’s knowledge that Sarah had lived a mighty difficult life with her first husband, had encouraged many in the community to reach out to them.

  Oh, of course John and Sarah were not Amish anymore. And they might never have the close bond with their neighbors and friends that they might have had in other circumstances . . . but Jeremiah had been forceful in reminding them that they still had a place in the community. They were still wanted.

  If they wanted to be.

  After Jeremiah left, the two of them weighed the preacher’s words. Soon, it was very clear that Sarah wanted to be accepted more than anything.

  Secretly, John yearned for the same things. But he’d learned the hard way that wanting something—especially wanting other people’s friendship and love—didn’t necessarily mean that such wishes could be granted. Now, here they were, going to the Yoders. And since John still found it difficult to drive a buggy, they’d elected to walk. Besides, now that he was no longer pretending to be someone he wasn’t, he figured it was time to let everyone else get used to the fact that he
was an Englischer, too.

  Sarah was walking straight and proud by his side.

  Now she wore a gold ring on her finger, and he couldn’t deny the pride he felt every time he saw the simple gold band on her left hand. She was wonderful and she, by the grace of God, was his, and he was so happy to let everyone know it.

  She’d come so far since they’d first met and he was so proud of her. For so long she’d been everything and yet almost nothing to the people in her community. It had been a hard road for her to take, and John felt that a lesser woman would have broken down under the stress of it all.

  But not his Sarah. After they’d finally admitted everything to the community, his wife had become her own person. Slowly and surely she was holding her head a little higher and being a little more confident.

  She was no longer wearing her kapp, but was wearing a smaller head covering that some of the Mennonite women in the area wore. Her dress was a light blue, too, and had a little collar on it. And there were also buttons.

  It was a far cry from what the English women in town wore, but it was also a step away from dressing Amish.

  He knew in his heart that if Daniel had survived she would have stayed by his side and tried every day to make things work. And if he had never come to the area, John was pretty sure that she would have married Zeke and lived a good and happy life as his Amish wife.

  Instead, she’d been willing to give up much of herself for a man like him. A scarred, almost ruined man whose only real claim of worth was that he loved her.

  He thought she’d never been more beautiful.

  “Are you nervous about seeing everyone?” he asked as they walked on the small bridge over Sugar Creek. Now they were mere minutes from the Yoder farm.

  “Jah.” She shrugged. “I can’t help it. I am asking a lot of them, letting me still be a part of the community sometimes.”