by Sarah Price
“That isn’t possible.” He shoved the rest of the bread into his mouth.
Belle winced. “Perhaps we could start now. Perhaps we could talk a bit.”
“About what?”
“Well, for starters, about proper table manners.” She picked up her fork, took a small portion of potatoes and held it up for him to see before placing it into her mouth.
Adam leaned his elbow on the table and stared at her, an amused look upon his face.
Belle set down her fork. “See? It’s much more pleasant to enjoy your meal, not inhale it.”
With a sigh, Adam glanced toward the ceiling and then followed Belle’s example. He exaggerated as he scooped up some potatoes and delicately placed them into his mouth.
She smiled, genuinely amused by his dramatic imitation. “Much more civilized!” she said. “Now we can talk.”
Another sigh.
“You have been busy outside, Adam,” she started again. “May I inquire as to what you are working so hard at?”
“You may. In fact, you just did.”
Belle did not appreciate the sarcasm in his response, but she remained focused on trying to break through to this man who sat at the head of the table. “And . . . ? Your response?”
“I didn’t say that I would answer.”
Belle pressed her lips together and frowned at him. He was being difficult. That much was clear. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him, anticipating his response.
After a few long, drawn-out moments of silence, he gave in. Setting down his fork, he looked at her. “But since you are so curious—”
“I am,” she interrupted.
“—I’ve been working in the back fields, cutting corn and shocking it. I’ve many animals to feed in the cold season, and I need to fill the silo. Whatever is left, I sell to smaller farmers, like your daed.”
Belle had seen the field of corn behind the house. But it certainly was not so large that he could make enough feed for others. And, on the few occasions that she had been outside when he was working, she had not once seen him in that field. In fact, she thought she remembered that the cornstalks in that field still stood.
“And, of course, there is tobacco,” he continued. “Now that the weather has cleared, I must cut the leaves and hang them in the barn to dry.”
“Tobacco!” Now she was genuinely confused. She had not seen any fields with tobacco crops. “Do you have a magical farm that can produce so much when I’ve seen none of these things?”
For a moment, she thought Adam might laugh. The look in his eyes changed from denigration to amusement.
“Magical? There is nothing magical about hard work.”
The color flooded to her cheeks. “God does want us to labor. ‘And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men.’ Perhaps it is his hand that guides yours.”
“I don’t do it for the Lord. I do it to survive.”
Belle shook her head. His words alarmed her. “Nee, Adam. You shouldn’t say such things.”
“And why not?” His voice rose, and his words sounded angry.
“You are baptized, Adam. You committed to God that you accepted Jesus as your Savior and that you would honor God. You must seek God’s favor in everything you do.”
He shoved his plate away from himself. It knocked against one of the bowls and made a loud clinking noise that startled Belle. “Look at me! How has God favored me?” He gestured to his face and neck. “I am scorned by everyone! Children see my disfigurement and run the other way! Adults mock me! The hand of friendship has never been extended my way.”
“And has yours?”
He stopped ranting and stared at her as if trying to understand her question.
“Have you, Adam, ever extended your hand of friendship? Have you reached out to the community? Attended barn raisings? Or have you hidden away from the people, the community, even the church?” She paused, letting her words sink in. “The Bible tells us to ‘rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance.’ But it appears that you have wallowed in self-pity, Adam. If only you would reach out to God and lay your faith at his feet, acknowledge what Job learned, that God can do everything, and no thought can be withheld from him. Perhaps it is time that you, like Job, finally see God . . . truly see him . . . and repent in dust and ashes for having doubted his plan.”
“You don’t know what you are saying.” His voice was low, barely audible, and for the first time since she had met him, she sensed emotion. Had she uncovered the root of Adam’s self-imposed isolation?
“I don’t know what happened to you, Adam. Perhaps one day you might trust me enough to confide in me.” She watched him as he sat there, his expression stoic but his eyes telling Belle that he was listening. “What I do know is that you have a purpose. Disfigured or not, you are one of God’s children. Release your anger over your injury and mayhaps others will see beyond the scars, too.”
He turned his head and met her gaze. There was tension around his lips, and his eyes narrowed. “And you. What about you, Belle?” He raised his left eyebrow as he asked, “Are you able to see beyond the injuries? To love a man who looks like this?”
She hesitated. His question had caught her off guard. How could she answer that? Ever since her agreement to marry him, hadn’t she proven that she was willing to try? If only he would recognize her effort . . .
In the brief silence, Adam nodded his head. There was a severe look on his face. “That’s what I thought.” He stood up, shoving the chair backward. “Like all of the others.”
As he walked toward the door, Belle got up and hurried after him. “Wait, Adam. That’s not true . . .”
He held up his hand as if to stop her while he continued walking toward the barn. “Silence speaks a truth far greater than words.”
Belle leaned against the porch column and watched as Adam headed toward the stable. Her heart throbbed, and she felt a wave of sorrow wash over her. She had been close to a breakthrough with Adam, a chance to enter his life and finally learn about the man hidden behind the anger. But with just one hesitation to a question that, in truth, she didn’t know how to answer, she had ruined everything.
Chapter Fourteen
By the time Saturday arrived, Belle felt as if she were walking on pins and needles. With Adam refusing to take her to worship service on the previous Sunday, she had spent the entire week at the farm with no human interaction except the few times a day Adam came inside to eat a meal. And while she wasn’t particularly looking for more opportunities to be around him, she was starving for conversation with someone . . . anyone! . . . other than him.
After she had cleaned the breakfast dishes and prepared a casserole for dinner, she hurried to change her apron and wash her face. Eagerly, she slipped out the front door and began the long walk to town. She knew that the road would take her past her father’s house, and she intended to visit with her father and sisters on her way home. But as much as she missed them, she was even more anxious to visit with Ella and Sadie.
By nine o’clock, she found herself at Ella’s house, knocking at the kitchen door in the hopes that her friend was home.
No one answered.
Sighing, she walked farther down the road to Sadie’s house. But she, too, was not home.
Despondent, Belle sat down on a nearby bench under a tall oak tree. She didn’t want to head back, not just yet. But she also did not want to sit there, alone, until she needed to return to Adam’s farm. Our farm, she corrected herself. She wondered if she would ever truly consider it her farm, too.
With a sigh, Belle stood up and headed into the center of town. Even if she couldn’t see her friends, she could at least visit the stores in town. She needed to purchase some items that Adam had neglected to buy.
The bell over the Troyers’ shop door jingled when she opened it. She tried to smile as she entered, and Linda greeted her with a pleasant hello. But there was something odd about Linda’s expression, w
hich appeared strained with curiosity. Belle tried to appear nonchalant, but she felt the tension in the air.
“New books came in last week,” Linda said. “Thought we might see you on Thursday.”
It was more of an unspoken question than a statement. “Adam came to town already this week.” Belle suspected that Linda already knew that. Certainly if Linda and her daughters were aware that Adam only came to town twice a year, their tongues would have been wagging that he had come three times more often during this particular summer.
Belle wandered to the book section and began to peruse the titles. She found a book that she hadn’t read before and began to leaf through the pages. So engrossed with the book was she, Belle didn’t hear the bell tinkle once again as another customer entered Troyers’ store.
“Morning, Linda,” the man said.
Belle looked up and noticed John Grimm and his young children, Hannah and Gideon. She rarely saw them, except at worship services. His older daughter, Anna Rose, had been a schoolmate of Belle’s. While her cousin Elizabeth Grimm was the same age as Sadie, Ella, and Belle, but had run with an older group of girls, Anna Rose was two years younger, and Belle didn’t know her very well. What she did know was that John and his wife, Naomi, had seemed just as surprised as the rest of the community when they learned they were expecting twins just seven years earlier. There was a ten-year gap between Anna Rose and the twins. With all of their older children married, except Anna Rose, the suspicion was that Hannah and Gideon had not been planned, a double surprise that had not been met with the usual joy accompanying the birth of children into an Amish home.
And it showed in their behavior.
Gideon was the first to notice Belle. Immediately, he leaned over and whispered to his sister, Hannah, and she began to giggle, blatantly staring at Belle. She thought she overheard Hannah say the word “monster” and saw John glare at them. He followed their gaze to where Belle stood, and he frowned.
Belle lifted her chin and tried to appear undisturbed by the children’s rude behavior. She half expected that John would reprimand them. When he didn’t, Belle realized that the children had most likely overheard such a description of Adam from their parents.
Determined to face the situation head-on, Belle took her book to the counter and slid it toward Linda. “Good day, John. It’s nice to see you out with your kinner.”
He did not reply.
“How much, Linda?” Belle asked, opening up the small purse that she kept tucked in her apron pocket. She extracted a twenty-dollar bill and gave it to Linda. “And please give my regards to Ella. I had hoped to see her today, but she wasn’t at home when I stopped there.”
Quickly, Linda gave her change. “She’s off with Sadie to a youth picnic at the lake.” The way Linda said that, Belle got the impression that she wasn’t happy about it.
“That’s nice. A right gut day for it.”
John continued to stare at her, and his son began to giggle.
Belle turned toward the boy, who was no more than seven years old. “And what, Gideon, is so funny? I love to laugh and would enjoy joining you if it is something comical.”
He pointed at her and scrunched up his face, a poor imitation of Adam.
Hannah hid her face behind her hands, laughing. This time, John shot Gideon a stern look.
Belle felt angry that John did not reprimand his son for being so disrespectful and, frankly, unchristian. “Ah, you are making fun of my husband, is that it?” Belle leaned down and stared at Gideon, her face inches from his. “I’m surprised that you think it funny to laugh at someone who is disfigured. Perhaps I shall start laughing at you for being so ill-mannered.” She paused. “But no, I shall not. And do you know why?” Another pause. She continued to stare at him, her close proximity to him making him shuffle his feet as if uncomfortable. “Because I know that God is watching, and God loves all of his children—those that are disfigured due to no fault of their own, and those who are rude and badly behaved due to the fault of their parents.” She stood up, facing John Grimm as her words sank in. Then she reached for her book and said a pleasant goodbye to Linda before walking toward the door.
To her surprise, John walked out behind her. He called her name, and she turned.
“You have no right speaking to my son that way,” he said, the anger on his face mirrored by the rage in his voice. “I’ll be speaking to the bishop about this!”
“I’m certain the bishop would find it rather concerning, indeed.” Belle maintained her composure. “After all, it is not the Amish way to mock others. If a parent does not raise his son, or daughter, to respect the differences among people, it reflects as poorly on the parents as it does on the children.”
“How dare you!” He took a step toward her, but Belle did not cower. “You married that . . . that abomination of a man. What do you expect? People to suddenly embrace him? A man who isolates himself from the rest of the community?”
Belle maintained her eye contact with John, a cool expression on her face. “I expect that we will practice love and acceptance, the way that God’s Son taught us. Clearly the bishop will have his work cut out for him, teaching you and your children the proper way to love one another. It’s a lesson you must have forgotten!” She did not wait for him to respond before she turned and started to walk away from the store. But she had only taken a few steps before she stopped, startled to see Adam standing beside his buggy, his arms crossed over his chest as he observed the exchange between Belle and John Grimm.
“Is there a problem here, Belle?” he asked, his one good eye staring directly at John.
“Nee, Adam. Everything is fine.” But it wasn’t fine. Her heart beat rapidly, embarrassed for Adam that he had witnessed John’s terrible behavior. For a moment, she felt pain for all of the years that Adam must have encountered similar prejudice because of his physical appearance. No wonder, she thought, that he isolated himself.
“Then get in the buggy, and I shall take you home.” He made no move to shield his face from John Grimm, nor did he stop staring at the man.
As Belle neared the buggy, Adam stepped aside and put out his hand, palm side up, for Belle to take. This gesture caused her to hesitate. He had never done that before. Without thinking, she placed her hand in his, her heart beating even faster, but this time not out of embarrassment. She couldn’t explain what she felt as Adam helped her step up and into the buggy. After a week of silence and avoidance, Adam had made his first attempt at being a caring husband. As soon as she realized this, she immediately wondered why.
“Do you have any other errands?” he asked as he got into the buggy beside her.
“Nee.”
“You did not tell me you were leaving.”
The buggy jostled, and her arm brushed against his. “I’m sorry. You were working, and I know how you don’t like to be disturbed. I wanted to visit with my friends and family, but my friends are at a youth gathering.”
“And your family?”
She thought about it. She hadn’t stopped there on the way to Echo Creek. Now, however, she suddenly did not feel like stopping there on the way home. “I can visit with them another day.”
He held the reins in his hands, guiding the horse down the road. As Belle watched, she realized that he had not shut the buggy door. Instead, a nice breeze blew through the opening.
“What did you buy?”
She showed him the book, and, for a brief second, she thought she saw his mouth twitch as if he were trying not to smile. At the same time, she noticed the hint of a beard growing along his cheeks and chin. Why hadn’t she seen that before? The realization that Adam was growing the customary beard of a newly married man startled her. She wasn’t certain why. Perhaps it was the fact that she didn’t feel like his wife, didn’t feel as if they were truly married. And yet, clearly, Adam did.
While the thought surprised her, even more surprising was the realization that it did not entirely displease her.
For most of the
drive, they sat in silence. Only this time, for some odd reason, Belle felt less uncomfortable than the last two times they were in the buggy together. She leaned back against the seat, not caring that she sat closer to Adam than before. When her arm brushed his or her leg touched his, she didn’t cringe or feel threatened. Instead, she felt as if butterflies were in her stomach.
Over the past week, he had avoided her and made no move toward any intimacy. Her fear of him had been replaced by the gentle peace of a simple routine that involved little to no interaction. Yet today, when he had stood there and spoke to her in a kind voice, she had felt something stirring inside. An emotion that she had never thought she’d feel: tenderness toward the man who was still a stranger but had finally acted like a husband toward her.
“You were in town,” she stated as they neared the farm. “I hadn’t known you were going there.”
He exhaled. “You wouldn’t have known, for I didn’t know, until I discovered you were gone.”
“Oh.” It came out soft, like a small poof of air.
“I thought you’d left.”
Her eyes widened. “Left?”
“To return home.”
“So you came looking for me?”
“You are my fraa.” He glanced at her, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than usual. “But you were not at Melvin’s.”
“You went to my daed ’s?”
He nodded. “So I realized you must have gone to town.”
“So you came looking for me? To drag me back to your farm?”
This time, he did smile, even if he tried to hide it. “Nee, Belle. I came to give you a ride home. It’s too warm for such a long walk.”
She let his words sink in. He cared. That was what she heard: he cared about her. Those pesky butterflies fluttered once more, and she felt shy in his presence.
“You heard what John said.”
He nodded.
“I’m terribly sorry.”
He chuckled softly under his breath. “I’m not.”
“Oh? I would think you would despise him for such horrible words.”
“Nee, Belle. I am used to hearing those horrible words. What I am not used to hearing,” he said, staring straight ahead, “is someone like you chastising people like John Grimm.” He paused before he added, “So I am quite glad that I overheard it.”