Belle

by Sarah Price

  Upstairs, Belle turned the knob to the locked bedroom door. She didn’t know what she was expecting for, as always, it would not open. She sighed and bent down to look at the keyhole. She noticed that there was a gap between the door and the frame. For a moment, she thought about how to open the door. She couldn’t fit a hairpin into the lock, for it wasn’t that kind of door. But she wondered if she might push something in that gap. Perhaps she could spring the lock and finally get the door open, whether Adam liked it or not.

  “Honestly!” she said out loud. Just when she thought they were taking a step or two forward, Adam seemed to take four or five backward. His mood swings and temper flare-ups were becoming predictable, and they hurt just a little less since she had grown to expect them. She realized with a start that she’d gone from feeling hurt by him to feeling hurt for him. If only she could understand why he acted as he did!

  Downstairs in the kitchen drawer, she found a plastic card. She turned it over and saw that it was a discount card for a garden store in Liberty Village. This might do, she thought and carried it upstairs. It only took her two tries to spring the lock. “Success!” she cried out happily.

  The door swung open, and Belle gasped. In her wildest imagination, she never would have pictured what she saw now.

  Unlike the rest of the rooms in the house, this room was not in complete disarray. While it was dusty from what appeared to be years of abandonment, a fine layer of dust covering the dresser and nightstands, it was set up as if awaiting the return of an occupant.

  The light filtered through the bottom third of the windows, the rest covered with drawn-down navy shades. A beautiful blue and white quilt covered the large sleigh bed. Kerosene lanterns, still filled with blue kerosene, rested upon the two nightstands, one on either side of the bed. Beneath the lanterns were white lace doilies, clearly handmade by a skilled person. Belle stepped through the doorway and passed by the tall dresser, where a hairbrush and hand mirror rested. Upon the walls were dresses hanging from pegs: one blue, one green, and one black. There was also a black apron hanging on the back of the bedroom door.

  Without doubt, this room had belonged to a woman who decorated with love and care.

  Belle sat down upon the bed and ran her hand across the top of the quilt. The stitches were fine and almost perfectly spaced, twelve stitches to an inch. The pattern of the quilt was double wedding rings, and Belle immediately knew that it had been made for a bride. But who?

  She saw a leather book on the nightstand and reached for it. The worn cover spoke of frequent reading. When Belle opened it, she wasn’t surprised to see that it was a Bible. She noticed that there was handwriting on the front page: Caren Hershberger. Little slips of paper poked out from between the pages. Curious, Belle turned the pages until she found one of the marked passages: “A joyful heart makes a cheerful face, But when the heart is sad, the spirit is broken.” On the other side of the page was another marked passage: “A joyful heart is good medicine, But a broken spirit dries up the bones.” Belle continued flipping through the Bible to read other marked pages beyond those two verses in the book of Proverbs. It was the one in Hebrews that made her catch her breath: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.”

  Shutting the Bible, Belle remained seated on the bed, the Bible resting on her lap with her hand atop its cover. Those verses lingered in her mind as she stared at the wall where the dresses hung. Oh, how she understood this woman who’d underlined and marked those verses. Hadn’t Belle’s spirit been broken when she’d arrived at the farm as Adam’s wife? And yet, in spite of her sad heart and loneliness, she had begun to find moments of joy: helping Adam in the fields, riding beside him in the buggy, cooking meals in her kitchen. Her kitchen. She no longer felt as if she were a complete stranger in the house. She no longer longed to return to her father’s farm. In many ways, her spirit had begun to heal, but the healing was not complete. She knew that she would not find a truly joyful heart until Adam was a real husband to her. He needed to share with her, confide in her, and treat her like a partner, not a hired hand.

  She sighed and set the Bible on the bed. Standing up, she wandered over to the dresser and touched the hairbrush. It moved slightly, leaving a little trail in the dust. How many years had it been since someone had entered the room? How many years since the occupant last walked out the door and never returned?

  Curiosity got the best of her and she opened the top drawer. It was empty. So were the second and third. But when she opened the bottom drawer, her eyes beheld the most unexpected sight. Clothing. A dress. A kapp. An apron. It was curious enough just to find those items in the dresser, for they should have been hung up in order to keep them from wrinkling. However, Belle quickly saw that the clothing was dirty. Very dirty.

  She reached into the drawer and pulled out the kapp. If it had once been white, it was now gray, with traces of black on the rim. Belle frowned and set it atop the dresser before reaching for the apron. That, too, had smudges of gray on it, and the bottom was singed. Draping it over her arm, Belle leaned down for the dress. But as she withdrew it, a piece of paper fell to the floor. It must have been tucked in the folded dress.

  After picking up the paper, Belle moved back to the bed, sitting down upon the edge. The paper was folded in three. Belle quickly opened it so that it lay flat on her lap, and her eyes scanned the faded print of an old article from The Budget, a weekly newspaper that even her father had subscribed to in order to keep up with other Amish communities around the country. What she read, however, startled her.

  A fire at the Kings’ dairy farm in Echo Creek killed Caren Hershberger and seriously injured her five-year-old son, Adam. The cause of the fire is unknown, but David King says his daughter, Caren, had gone into the barn to find her young son when the roof collapsed.

  Belle frowned. Kings’ farm? She didn’t know of any Kings living in Echo Creek. And she had never heard about a Caren King, just as she knew nothing about a Caren Hershberger. But clearly this was Adam’s mother. As Belle began to connect the dots, she felt that all-too-familiar tightening in her chest. Adam’s mother had died trying to rescue Adam while he was visiting his grandparents. That was how he had been injured. And the scars on his body only masked the deeper scars that resided in his heart.

  “Oh, Adam,” she whispered.

  Carefully, she refolded the paper and put it back in the bottom drawer. She laid the clothes on top of it, realizing that it was best she did not disturb the room. Adam had his reasons for leaving it this way, and until she could talk with him, it was best for her to leave well enough alone.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Belle pushed the floor with her feet, the rocking chair moving back and forth and causing the floorboard to creak, as she crocheted the blanket that partially covered her lap. The fire in the fireplace bathed the room in a soft orange glow and a smoky warmth for which Belle was glad, for it was cold outside. The overcast sky and naked trees made it feel like winter. She wondered if it might snow, but realized it was too early for that.

  She heard the opening of the back door, and, for just a brief moment, she paused in her rocking as she listened for the now-familiar footsteps of Adam.

  “You’re in here already, then?” He entered the room and stood before the fireplace, his hands out as if to warm them.

  Belle stared at him, her newfound knowledge of the accident that had caused his injuries forcing her to see him with fresh eyes. The verse from his mother’s Bible came to the front of Belle’s mind: “some have entertained angels without knowing it.” Surely the rest of Echo Creek had missed out on an opportunity to entertain an angel, she thought as she watched Adam rub his hands together.

  “I’ve made some soup for supper,” she said quietly.

  “Oh, ja?” He glanced at her, his eyes traveling to her lap, where the blanket lay. “Good to have soup on a cold night.”

  “You let me know when you’re hu
ngry, Adam, and I’ll fetch it for you.”

  “Fetch it? Are you not eating then?”

  She shook her head. “Nee, Husband.” It was the first time she had called him that, and she noticed the look of surprise on his face. Setting down the blanket, she stood up and crossed the room to stand before him. “I’m not hungry for supper.”

  Perhaps it was the way she said the words that caused him to stop rubbing his hands. Or perhaps it was the way she looked at him. For a long, silent moment, he stood before Belle, motionless and curious, as if awaiting her next words. But she did not speak. Instead, she reached out her hand, slowly and with care, to gently touch his scarred cheek. He started to pull away, until Belle shook her head.

  “Nee, food will not satisfy me, but truth will.”

  Adam quieted and let her hand touch his skin. “Truth?”

  She nodded. “Ja, Husband. Truth. I feel that there is a need for truth between us.”

  Immediately, he became tense, and she worried that he might shut down, and possibly storm out of the room and retreat to his living quarters in the dairy barn.

  Quickly, she ventured forward with the words she had practiced over and over again during the early evening hours. She had prayed, too, that God would guide her tongue as she spoke to Adam.

  “When I came to your house over four weeks ago and asked you to reconsider taking away Daed’s farm, you told me that you wanted a wife to bear you a son.” She pressed her hand against his cheek. “And you visit me in my bedroom each night under cover of darkness while I sleep. Despite those visits, I wake up alone, never knowing for certain you were there save for the thread that falls from the door.”

  “Thread?”

  She nodded. “I suspected you were coming into the room, so I began leaving a thin, blue thread that, should the door open, would fall to the floor.”

  Under her hand, she felt his cheek grow warm to her touch. He swallowed and looked very uncomfortable.

  “Why, Adam? Why do you do that?”

  He reached his hand to cover her wrist. With a firm grip on her arm, he moved it away from his face. “I’m not ready to do this.” His voice was thick with emotion, and his eyes pleaded with her to stop. But Belle knew that she must push him.

  “If not now, then when?”

  “Just not now.” Abruptly, he released his hold upon her arm and started to move away from her.

  Fearing that she might lose her opportunity to finally understand what had made him want to marry her, she heard herself say, “Your mother—Caren—would want you to talk to me.”

  He stopped walking, standing just before the door, with his back turned toward Belle. She watched as his shoulders lifted and then drooped as if he had taken a deep breath and then exhaled. Belle waited for what seemed like an eternity for Adam to turn around and face her. There was no color in his cheeks.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Belle said. “That she died.”

  “You don’t know what you are saying.”

  She moved toward him. “You were just a boy, Adam. And she loved you enough to try to save you from certain death.”

  Something changed in Adam’s face, a dark cloud passing over his expression. “My daed never forgave me. Maem’s daed never recovered from her death.”

  Belle shook her head. “Nee, that can’t be true! You were injured, and they tended to you. They raised you. Surely they thanked God for not taking you, too.”

  But he shook his head. “You don’t know what it was like,” he said sorrowfully. “Dawdi King moved here to live. He couldn’t bear to see the burned barn on his farm, a reminder of Maem’s death. And my own daed refused to live in the haus. The only time I saw him was when we worked together, for he stayed in the dairy barn.”

  She tilted her head. “Where you sleep now?”

  He nodded his head and slowly walked over to the sofa. He sank down into the cushions and leaned forward so that his elbows rested upon his knees. He covered his face with his hands.

  “We quickly learned that, with my face, I couldn’t attend school or church. So Dawdi King taught me to read and write and do my figures. When he wasn’t doing that or working with Daed on the farm, he just sat in Maem’s room, reading her Bible and staring at her dresses, which hung from the walls. He never blamed me, not out loud like my daed did. I would sit in there, listening to him read verses from the Bible about forgiveness and faith.” A hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. “He was all that I had.”

  Belle stood in place, giving Adam the time to finish his reflection.

  “When Dawdi King died, I was fourteen. I couldn’t bear to see that room. I locked the door and hid the key.” He gave a sorrowful laugh. “I don’t even remember where I hid it. I just knew that seeing that room would bring back too many hurtful memories of the only two people who cared for me.”

  Belle could hardly imagine the pain and suffering Adam must have felt growing up. Her throat swelled and she had to swallow to keep herself from crying.

  “On the day Dawdi King died, I went to town to fetch the bishop, because I could see that Daed was too distraught to do anything. The schoolchildren were playing in the yard, and when they saw me . . .”

  When Belle saw that his eyes welled with tears, she had to look away. Crossing her arms over her chest, she rubbed them, more for a physical distraction than because she was actually cold.

  Adam cleared his throat, and Belle knew that he was trying hard to fight the tears. “. . . they pointed at me and called me a beast. When the teacher heard the commotion, she came out and saw me. She called for all of the children to hurry inside.” He gave a grief-stricken laugh. “Anyone who saw me had the same reaction, except for the bishop.”

  Her heart ached for the broken man seated upon the sofa. “Oh, Adam.” She hurried across the room and sat beside him, reaching out her hand to stroke his hair. “That was unkind and unchristian.”

  “After Maem died, the g’may came to the funeral, of course, and for weeks afterward they tried to bring food and help us. But hating how everyone stared and whispered about me, Daed refused to let them in after a while. Only the bishop was allowed to come each week, bringing food from his wife, and speaking with me in the haus. Then after Daed died when I was eighteen, the bishop could see how isolated I had become, and he tried to convince me to come to church. But I refused. He must’ve been relieved, because he never made much fuss about it. He even baptized me here, at the farm. Mayhaps he just didn’t want to admit the truth about how he and his church members lived God’s Word.” He lifted his head and looked at her. “Or, rather, how they didn’t, not when it involved an ugly boy who killed his own maem.”

  “That’s not true,” she retorted quickly. “You are not ugly, and you did not kill your maem.”

  “She was the only person who loved me.”

  Belle bit her lip as she stared into a face that was so full of anguish from years of suffering. “Until now,” she said in a soft whisper.

  For a moment, he did not respond. Instead, he held his breath as if disbelieving the words she had just spoken.

  “Why do you visit my room at night?” she asked once again in the same hushed tone. “Why do you never stay?”

  “I visit your room to watch you sleep, to thank God that he sent you to my farm on that day, and to love you in solitude without risk of rejection.” He swallowed and then moistened his lips before he answered the second part of her question. “I never stay, Belle, because I dread the day that you might bear me a son and leave. I’d rather never stay the night with you than risk that day I would lose you, for surely I would die.”

  Slowly Belle leaned forward and gently pressed her lips against his. She felt him catch his breath, and she pulled back, smiling at him. “Whether one son or ten, you will never lose me.” She placed both of her hands on either of his cheeks, her eyes staring into his. “Just promise me that you will never sleep outside this haus again. My husband is not a beast that should dwell in a barn, bu
t truly the finest of men, whose place is beside his adoring and devoted wife.”

  Something caught in his throat, a strangled noise, and a single tear fell from his eye. Belle reached up and wiped it away with her thumb. When she did, he wrapped his arms around her, one hand behind her neck, and pulled her into a deep, warm embrace. She felt her hair loosen and fall out of the bun at the nape of her neck. His fingers entwined in her long wavy locks as he pressed his mouth upon hers, kissing her as tears of joy ran down her own face. Putting her arms around his neck, she clung to him, realizing that she was finally his wife—and he, her husband.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Belle slid out from beneath the covers, careful to not awaken Adam. For a moment, she stood by the bedside, pulling her robe around herself, and stared down at her husband as he slept. The quilt hardly covered his bare shoulder, and she reached forward to gently raise it so that he would not catch a chill. When she did so, he grumbled something and moved just a little, his thick black wavy locks falling over the side of his face, the stubble from his beard casting a dark shadow on his cheeks.

  Belle smiled and kissed her fingers before placing them lightly against his cheek.

  To her surprise, he reached up and grabbed her hand.

  “Oh!”

  He rolled over, the quilt covering him, and pulled her so that she had no choice but to sit on the side of the bed.

  “I’m so sorry, Adam. I hadn’t meant to awaken you!” And she meant it. She had intended to hurry downstairs and make him breakfast so that when he arose for morning chores, he could have something warm to fill his empty stomach.

  Putting one arm behind his head, Adam propped himself against the pillow and headboard. “Don’t be sorry,” he said in a low, calm voice. “I would’ve been disappointed to wake up and not find you here. Like awakening from a dream only to realize that it never happened at all.” He reached out and tugged at the long, thick braid that hung down her back. His eyes never left her face. “But you have awoken me earlier than need be.”