One True Path

by Cameron, Barbara;

  Emma fixed a cup of tea for herself and sat at the big kitchen table to drink it. When Lizzie returned, she carried the cup of tea.

  “She was already asleep when I got there.” She sat at the table. “Guess I’ll drink it.”

  “You don’t like milk in your tea.”

  Lizzie shrugged. “No point in it going to waste.” She stirred it then took a sip. “Now tell me what happened with Isaac.”

  “I said—”

  “I know what you said. But it’s obvious you’re upset about something.”

  Emma rubbed her forehead and tried to fight back tears. “There’s nothing I can do.”

  “Are you saying you’re going to break off the engagement?” Lizzie asked, her eyes wide.

  Restless, Emma got up, dumped her cold tea in the sink, and poured more hot water into her mug. She sank down into her chair and dunked another tea bag in the water. “It’s more like Isaac is breaking it off with me.”

  She told Lizzie what Isaac had said. Lizzie went white and when Emma finished she listened to the clock ticking loudly.

  “Well,” Lizzie said at last. “Was that why you came home?”

  Emma nodded. “I saw a buggy approaching and got a ride.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  Emma stirred her tea, studying the pattern the spoon made in the liquid. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I’m not willing to live with him without us being married.”

  Lizzie stood. “I should say not!”

  She reached out and grabbed her sister’s arm. “You can’t tell anyone.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. Him asking you to do such a thing is too insulting for words.” She paced the room. “Are you going to tell Mamm and Daed? I think they’re expecting you and Isaac to get married after the harvest. When we were talking about the kitchen garden the other day she was saying she was thinking about planting extra celery.”

  Then Lizzie stopped. “Oh, Emma, I’m sorry. The last thing I need to be talking about is Mamm planting celery in case both of us are getting married.”

  “I’m going up to my room.”

  Lizzie hugged her. “You’ll feel better after you’ve had some rest.”

  Emma doubted rest was going to make her feel better but she didn’t have the energy to disagree. She just wanted to be alone.

  As she started up the stairs, she heard a knock on the front door. She turned and looked at her sister. “If it’s Isaac, I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “You don’t have to,” Lizzie announced, a determined look on her face as she started for the door.

  Emma couldn’t help herself—she stood on the stairs and waited to hear who the visitor was.

  It felt like a hand squeezed her heart when she heard Isaac’s low, deep voice. Her lips trembled but she stayed where she was until Lizzie sent him away. Then she climbed the stairs to her room, feeling decades older than her age and threw herself on her bed.

  She rolled over and punched her pillow to be more comfortable and her hand encountered her journal. Pulling it out, she flipped through the pages and began reading what she’d written a few days before: “I’m worried about Isaac. I think he’s still grieving over his brother drowning when he was a little boy, but he says he’s fine and he won’t talk to me. We were friends before we decided we wanted to be married. I want my friend back.”

  Tears slipped down her cheeks. She closed the book and held it to her chest. From the time she was ten she’d loved Isaac. She couldn’t bear the thought of him not being in her life.

  2

  Isaac stared at Lizzie. “What do you mean she doesn’t want to talk to me?”

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “It’s not possible—” He put out his hand to stop her from shutting the door. “Lizzie, come on. You know how I feel about Emma.”

  “I know how you used to feel about her,” Lizzie said, her eyes blazing. “She told me what you said today, Isaac. How can you think she’d want to have anything to do with you after what you said?”

  “I didn’t say we wouldn’t get married!”

  “Isaac, Emma doesn’t want to talk to you and I don’t either.”

  She shut the door firmly in his face.

  He backed away, shaking his head and started to walk to his buggy. Then he stopped and glanced up at Emma’s bedroom window. His gaze fell to the pebbles on the edge of the drive. He scooped up a handful and tossed them at the window. They bounced off the glass and fell back to the ground.

  But Emma never came to the window.

  So close . . . and yet so far.

  His shoulders slumped. He walked back to his buggy and climbed inside. He called to Joe and the vehicle began rolling down the drive. His hand reached for a CD and then he paused, a little ashamed to remember the pained look Emma had worn when he played it earlier.

  He paused at the end of the drive, looking both ways before letting Joe pull the buggy onto the road. The drive to the cottage seemed to take longer than it had earlier. Maybe it was because his spirits had been higher.

  When he arrived he disconnected the buggy and freed Joe of the harness before putting both into the ramshackle barn behind the cottage. Lost in his thoughts, he almost forgot to feed and water his horse but Joe sensed his distraction and butted his arm.

  The horse happily munched at his feed as Isaac closed the barn door behind him and started for the cottage. Just as he reached the back door, he heard a buggy pull up in the front drive. He walked through the house and opened the front door just as Davey reached to pound on it.

  “Hey, man, thought I’d see what you were up to tonight.” Davey looked over Isaac’s shoulder. “Emma here?”

  “No,” Isaac said shortly.

  Davey glanced each way. “I have a six-pack in the buggy. You got anything to eat?”

  “We could order a pizza.” Isaac had money in his pocket he’d planned to use taking Emma out to supper, but since that wasn’t going to happen tonight—maybe even in the near future—he decided to blow it. “Go on into the living room and I’ll call the pizza place. Pepperoni, right?”

  “Yeah. Extra cheese.”

  When Isaac walked into the room a few minutes later, he found Davey sitting in a lawn chair, his legs stretched out in front of him.

  “Hey, man, love the furniture.” Davey waved his hand at the room. “Who was your decorator? The Patio Store?” He chuckled and popped the top of a can of beer.

  “Not funny!” Isaac kicked at the metal leg of the lawn chair Davey sat in, making it sway.

  “Hey, man, I was just joking!” Davey protested, drawing his legs up and and planting them on the floor for balance. “Geez, look, you made me spill my beer,” he complained, brushing drops off his lap. “You’re in a mood. What, did you have a fight with the old lady?”

  “Don’t call her that.” Isaac picked up a can of beer from the fruit crate serving as a coffee table. He sat in another lawn chair and popped the top on the can.

  “O-kay.” Davey took a long gulp of beer. “Want to catch a movie?”

  Isaac shook his head. He took a long swallow of his beer, then another. He’d only been drunk once in his life and he’d been sick afterward. But tonight he felt like drinking until he forgot how it had felt when Emma refused to see him.

  He was on his second beer when the pizza arrived. Isaac dug in his pocket for money.

  “You fellas have a nice night,” the delivery guy said, smiling at the tip Isaac gave him.

  Isaac set the pizza box down on the crate and opened it.

  “Hey, you get ESPN?”

  “Yeah.” He tossed the remote to him and watched him find the channel.

  “Man, I love TV,” Davey said. “So glad this place has electricity, huh?”

  Isaac shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  Davey finished his beer, burped, then leaned over to help himself to two pieces of pizza, putting the pepperoni sides together and eating it like a sandwich. “Aren�
�t you eating?”

  “In a minute.” He reached for another beer, popped the top, took a long swallow, then stared at it moodily. “Davey?”

  He tore his attention from the television. “What?”

  “Do you ever see Mary?”

  “Yeah. Now and then. Why?”

  “Are you going to get married?”

  “Her parents don’t like me.”

  “So?”

  “So we’re giving it some more time. No hurry. Fall’s a long way away.”

  Isaac took a gulp of the beer, then another. And then he set it down. Stuff tasted bitter. He watched the action on the television for a moment, and then he found his attention wandering. Davey wasn’t the brightest, but he had a point.

  Fall was a long way away.

  Maybe he’d know what he wanted by then.

  He hadn’t prayed for a long time, not since things had gotten confusing for him. But he prayed now he would figure things out soon. Real soon.

  * * *

  Emma woke, glanced at her alarm clock on the table beside the bed and started to get up. Then she remembered it was Saturday, the one day she could sleep in a little if she wanted.

  And then she remembered how her world had come crashing down the day before . . .

  She punched her pillow and lay on her side, watching the sun rising. Sleep had been a long time coming. It would have been nice to sleep in a little, but she’d woken at the same time she had to get up for work each day.

  Lizzie slept in the other bed. The two of them had totally different personalities. Lizzie looked sweet, but she spoke up for herself—something Emma found difficult. She had opinions about just about everything, while Emma liked the middle of the road. The only thing they’d agreed on was the color of the walls—a soft robin’s egg blue. And sleeping in. Lizzie liked it as much as Emma.

  Right now Lizzie had her quilt pulled over her head, blocking out the rays of sun coming in the room. They’d each sewn a quilt for their beds when Daed had let them move up to the third floor, away from the other kinner. Lizzie’s stitching wasn’t as tidy and careful as Emma’s—Lizzie didn’t have the patience and besides, Lizzie wasn’t interested in quilting or sewing. She loved painting with watercolors where she could splash color with abandon on the canvas. Emma had surprised Lizzie on her last birthday by framing several of Lizzie’s watercolors and hanging them on the walls.

  Emma’s gaze landed on a small, carved wooden keepsake box on top of their dresser. She slipped from the bed to get it, careful not to disturb Lizzie, then sat on her bed and opened it. She pulled out the little folded notes she and Isaac exchanged in schul, paged through her journal to sniff at the wild rose he’d given her. She’d pressed it between the pages where she wrote about her growing feelings for him. And felt her heart breaking again.

  The edge of her bed went down as Lizzie sat beside her and hugged her. “Come on, Emma, don’t cry. Everything’s going to be allrecht.”

  “You don’t know it for sure.”

  Lizzie patted her on her back. “Nee, I don’t, she admitted with a sigh. “We just have to trust.”

  “Trust? I can’t trust Isaac after what he said.”

  She blinked as Lizzie pulled back and put her hands on her cheeks. “Not trust Isaac. Trust God. We don’t know what’s happening here. Why it’s happening. But God does. He’s in every situation, Emma.”

  Emma reached for a tissue on her bedside table and wiped her cheeks. “I thought Isaac was the man God set aside for me.”

  Lizzie nodded, her expression sad. “I did, too.”

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Mamm says breakfast is ready,” one of their brothers called out. “She’s making pancakes. Better come on now or Daniel and me are gonna eat yours.”

  Emma listened to the clatter of shoes descending the stairs to the lower level.

  “Pancakes, Emma,” Lizzie said as she got up and began dressing. “Your favorite.”

  “I’m not hungry. I have a headache.”

  She wasn’t lying. An ache had formed behind her eyes and her stomach felt queasy. She began putting the things back in the box, then got up and put it back on the top of the dresser.

  “What are you doing?” Lizzie asked, placing her hands on her hips when Emma climbed back into her bed.

  Emma pulled the quilt up over her head. “Tell Mamm I’ll be down in a while and clean up the kitchen.”

  When Lizzie didn’t say anything Emma pushed the quilt down. Lizzie stood by the door, looking back at her uncertainly. “Go have breakfast, Lizzie. I’m just going to lie here for a little while and get rid of my headache.”

  With a nod, Lizzie left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

  Emma lay there for a while, unable to go back to sleep because her mind kept spinning, spinning. Finally, afraid she was having a pity party, she got up, made her bed and Lizzie’s, then dressed.

  “There you are,” her mother said when she walked into the kitchen. “Feeling better?”

  She nodded, glanced at the sink, and saw it was empty. “I told Lizzie to tell you I’d be down to do the dishes.”

  Her mother patted her cheek. “I didn’t do them. Lizzie did before she left for the library. Sit down, I saved you some breakfast.”

  “I’m not hungry. I just thought I’d have some tea.”

  “You—not hungry?” Looking concerned, her mother placed the back of her hand against Emma’s forehead. “No fever.” She narrowed her eyes at her daughter. “You’re not . . .” she trailed off as her gaze dropped to Emma’s abdomen.

  Emma followed the direction of her mother’s eyes and her cheeks flamed. “Nee!”

  Lillian’s expression cleared. “Gut. I wouldn’t like to think you and Isaac—well, would become intimate. I’m not blind to the way you and Isaac have been.”

  She hesitated, wondering what—if anything—Lizzie had said to her.

  Her mother pulled a plate piled high with pancakes from the oven and set it before Emma.

  “I didn’t think there would be any left.”

  “I hid them,” her mother said with a smile. “Tea or coffee?”

  “I’ll get it—” she began.

  Her mother put her hand on her shoulder. “Sit. I’m ready to have a cup of coffee with you.”

  So she subsided, poured syrup over her pancakes, and began eating. She hadn’t thought she was hungry but once she put a forkful in her mouth she couldn’t stop eating. Her mother made the best pancakes.

  “So, what are your plans today?” her mother asked as she stirred her cup of coffee. “Doing something with Isaac?”

  The bite of pancake Emma was chewing and about to swallow turned into a lump in her throat. She reached for her tea, found it too hot to drink, and jumped up to get a glass of water from the tap.

  “Nee, I have some things to do,” she said vaguely. Then inspiration hit her. “Could I use the buggy to go into town?”

  “Check with your dat. I don’t think he planned to use it.”

  Emma took her plate and cup to the sink and washed and dried them. Then she grabbed her sweater and went to find her father.

  Her father looked up from checking the hoof of their mare and grinned at Emma. “Guder mariye, sleepyhead.”

  “Daed, could I take the buggy into town?”

  He set Flora’s hoof down and nodded. “Schur.” He tilted his head to one side. “Plans with Isaac?”

  She bit her lip and shook her head. “Nee. I just have some things to do.”

  “Ach. I see.”

  Emma walked over and looked at Flora’s hoof. “Is she okay?”

  “She is,” he told her. “I thought she was favoring this leg, but I can’t find anything wrong.” He peered at her. “What about you?”

  Startled, she glanced up at him. “I’m fine.”

  His eyes were warm and concerned behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “I don’t think so,” he said after a moment.

  She went to him th
en and hugged him. “Have you been talking to Lizzie?”

  “Nee,” he said quietly, pulling back to look down into her face. “Should I?”

  Afraid she’d lose what tenuous hold she had on her composure, Emma backed away. “Nee. I’m fine. I’d just like to take the buggy into town to do some things.”

  “So you said. I’ll help you hitch it up.”

  He led Flora out of the barn and hitched her to the family buggy. Emma helped him, both of them silent as they performed the task they had done so often.

  When she climbed inside the buggy, he waited until she got her skirts out of the way and then shut the door. She lifted the reins, and he reached in and touched her hands.

  “Wait,” he said, dug in his pocket and handed her a folded bill. “Buy yourself something.”

  “I don’t need—”

  “You work hard and always turn over your check to your mamm to help. Buy yourself something.”

  She blinked hard at the tears that threatened. “Danki.”

  “Nothing is ever as bad as it seems.”

  “Really?”

  He patted her shoulder then stepped back so she could leave. When she slowed the buggy before entering the main road she glanced back, and he waved.

  She turned her attention to the road ahead. It was time to stop looking back at what might have been and think about her future.

  * * *

  Isaac nudged Davey with the toe of his shoe. “Hey, wake up.”

  Davey rolled over on the floor and pulled the quilt covering him up over his shoulder. “Go way.”

  “Time for you to go home.”

  He yawned and sat up, wincing. “Next time I hope you have a sofa.”

  There wasn’t going to be a next time. Last night had been a mistake. Drinking hadn’t helped him forget Emma.

  His friend got to his feet and tossed the quilt into a nearby lawn chair. He walked over to the cardboard box on the coffee table and looked inside. “We ate it all.”

  “You ate most of it.”

  Davey shrugged and checked his watch. “I’m starving. You got anything for breakfast?”

  “There’s cereal and milk in the kitchen.”