A tear rolled silently down Marie’s cheek, dripped from her chin, and landed on Henry’s hand. Without thinking, he lifted his fingers and brushed the moisture away. She caught his wrist, pressing his fingers against her cheek for a moment. Then, with a jerk, she released him. Even in the faint light, he saw the color in her face deepen.
Turning from him, she grabbed the door handle. “I’d better go in.”
“Let me walk you.”
“No.” She swung her feet out and looked over her shoulder. “I’m fine.” Stepping from the car, she stood for a moment in the triangle of soft light. She leaned forward slightly to meet his gaze. “Thank you again, Henry.” She slammed the door and moved quickly around the front of the vehicle.
He watched her shadow gain substance as she ran through the paths of white created by the headlights, Lisbeth’s sweater flapping. He watched her clamber up the porch steps, snatch open the door, and disappear inside. Then he watched the window until a pale glow indicated she’d managed to light a lantern.
He could go now. She was safe.
When he reached for the gearshift, he realized his hand was shaking. He released a snort of self-deprecation. Marie might be safe, but he most certainly was not.
TWENTY-THREE
Henry, it’s only right that you come for lunch today.” Joanna’s blue eyes sparkled as she looked at Henry. “After all your years of faithful prayer, you need to join us in celebrating Marie’s return to our fellowship.”
Henry’s heart certainly celebrated. Deacon Meiss had announced at the close of service that morning the decision to accept Marie Quinn as a member of the Sommerfeld congregation. Art, Conrad, Leo, and their families all intended to meet at Joanna’s in honor of Marie’s official return. He wanted to be there, yet he hesitated. He would be the only nonfamily member. If Lisbeth were there, too, it would be fine, given their unique friendship, but. . .
Snowflakes danced by, reminding him they were standing out in the cold while Joanna waited for an answer. He looked into her eyes, their hue the same as Marie’s, and he gave a nod. “I’ll be there. Thank you.”
Her smile lit her face. Touching his sleeve, she said, “Good. Don’t dally—we want as much of the afternoon as possible to make merry!” She turned and scurried to her car, where Hugo waited with the engine running. In moments, Hugo’s vehicle left the churchyard. Marie waved from the backseat, her smiling face pressed to the glass. He answered with a smile and wave of his own, then turned toward his car.
Across the churchyard, he spotted J.D. Koeppler assisting his wife into their buggy. Like a handful of other older members, the Koepplers hadn’t adopted the use of more modern transportation. Their ride home would be chilly today.
As Henry reached for his door handle, something in his soul compelled him to cross the hard ground to Koeppler’s buggy. He reached it just as J.D. picked up the reins.
The man gave a start when Henry touched his arm, and he turned a stern scowl down on Henry. “What do you want?”
The growl was certainly intended to put Henry off, but he didn’t back away. Giving the man’s arm a gentle squeeze, he said, “Are you coming to Hugo and Joanna’s?”
Erma leaned forward slightly, her gaze flittering between J.D. and Henry. There was no denying the longing in her eyes. But J.D. didn’t look at his wife—he looked firmly ahead, his jaw thrust forward. His mouth barely moved as he grated out his response. “I have nothing to celebrate.”
Henry jerked his hand back. Although he had witnessed J.D.’s stubbornness frequently over the years, his adamant denial of what had taken place inside the meetinghouse today still took Henry by surprise. “Mr. Koeppler, the lost has been found. The prodigal has returned. There is much to celebrate.”
But J.D.’s gray brows pulled down, giving him a fierce look. “I don’t buy into her games. She and her daughter only came when the opportunity to carry away the spoils was presented to them. They have no interest in relationships, only riches.”
Erma dropped her gaze to her lap, and Henry was certain he saw tears glint in her eyes.
J.D. went on. “Kyra told us how they count down on a calendar, marking off the days until they can be away from us again. The lost is not found, Henry, but merely biding her time until she can discard us once more. I will not celebrate that.” Clicking his tongue, he encouraged the horse to pull away from the hitching rail.
Henry stood silently as the buggy rolled backward several yards. With a tug of the reins and a call to “Giddap,” J.D. directed the dappled gray beast to pull the buggy toward the road.
Henry watched it go, his heart heavy. J.D. was wrong in his assumptions about Marie. Yes, Beth had come for riches, but Marie was here for relationships. Henry was certain of that. His conversation with her last night in the car spoke clearly of her inner battle of balancing the important relationships in her life. She wanted her family—all of her family.
His sigh hung in the crisp air. Shaking his head, he moved toward his car once more. Perhaps J.D. wouldn’t celebrate, but Henry would. He, with Marie’s brothers and sister, would make merry and praise God for Marie’s decision to return to Sommerfeld.
As he pulled away from the churchyard, his gaze found Lisbeth’s simple headstone. What would Lisbeth say to J.D. if she were still alive? Even though Henry had spent time nearly every day for the past twenty years with the dear woman, he was unable to determine the answer to that question.
Although Marie relished the long afternoon with Henry, her siblings, and their families, she would have been lying if she said she didn’t regret the absence of some important people. Beth’s and her parents’ lack of attendance cast a pall over the celebratory mood, and she suspected she wasn’t the only one to feel it.
Many times she’d seen a glimpse of something in Henry’s or Joanna’s eyes that expressed a hint of sadness. In those moments, their gazes had locked, and she felt a silent kinship of understanding. She knew, even without saying the words, they wished as deeply as she did for the circle to be complete, for the entire family to meet and rejoice together.
By midafternoon, the young people, who ranged in age from four to twenty-one, gathered in various bedrooms for quiet activities or naps, leaving the adults alone to chat. Hugo carried in chairs from the dining room, creating a misshapen circle of seats in the front room. Marie found herself in the center of the sofa between Joanna and Art’s wife, Doris. Henry sat on a ladder-back chair across from her. Having him directly in her line of vision proved distracting, and she played with the buttons on her blouse to avoid gazing into his warm brown eyes.
Doris gave Marie’s knee a pat. “So, what are your plans now, Marie? Will you stay permanently?”
Marie looked at Doris, aware of Henry’s attentive gaze from across the circle. “Now that I’m part of the congregation again, I would like to stay. But there are many things to work out. I’ll need a place to live and a way to take care of myself.”
Art leaned forward, placing his elbows on his widespread knees. “Seems to me you’ve already got that covered with the café and Lisbeth’s house.”
Marie smiled at her brother. “No. Those are Beth’s, not mine.”
“She wouldn’t let you have them?”
Art’s frown brought a rush of defensiveness. “It’s not a matter of her letting me. I wouldn’t ask. She’s depending on the proceeds from the sale of that property to start her own business. I won’t take that away from her.”
“Well,” Doris suggested, her brow puckered thoughtfully, “maybe you could buy the properties?”
Marie allowed a light laugh to escape. “If I had money to buy a café and a house, I would have offered to help Beth fund her business without coming here.” Her words created a stir around the room, and she realized how ungrateful she sounded. She held up her hand. “Please don’t misunderstand. I don’t regret coming. But if it hadn’t been for Lisbeth’s unusual will”—her gaze met Henry’s, and she felt her lips twitch in a smile—“there woul
d have been no motivation for me to return to Sommerfeld. I would never have found the courage to do it had it not been a means of helping Beth.”
Henry looked away, a hint of something—pain? regret?—flashing in his eyes. Before she could explore his reaction, Art spoke again.
“I understand.” He sighed, shaking his head. “You know, the new owners of the café, whoever they might be, will still need workers. So even if it sells, you’d probably have the opportunity for a job. But a place to live. . .that’s a little harder.”
Conrad crossed his leg and looked at his wife. “When Sonja and I got married, we wanted to find a place to rent. But there was nothing available. If old Mr. Brandt hadn’t passed away, we wouldn’t have had a house. There’s just not much turnover in Sommerfeld.”
“Maybe. . .” Joanna’s pensive tone captured Marie’s attention. But before she completed her thought, she shook her head and emitted a rueful chuckle. “No, that wouldn’t work.”
Hugo prodded, “What?”
Joanna’s gaze bounced around the room, as if gathering courage, before returning to Marie. “I was just thinking. . .there’s so much room at the farm now that all of us are on our own. With just Mom and Dad rattling around out there, I know they have space for Marie.”
A negative murmur made its way around the circle.
“See?” Joanna threw her hands outward, her expression regretful. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”
“It would work,” Art inserted, “if Dad weren’t so obstinate. I think Mom would be okay with the idea.”
Leo nodded. “I know she would. She told Phyllis at Thanksgiving how hard it was to know Marie was in town yet not at the house for the holiday.”
Marie stared at Leo’s wife. “She really said that?” Her heart lifted with hope, then plummeted. “But she’d never cross Dad. He’s the head of the home.”
“And she’s right to honor him.” Henry spoke, surprising Marie. He’d been largely silent through most of their time together. Everyone looked at him, and he squirmed in his seat. His Adam’s apple bobbed before he spoke again. “God can’t honor her if she doesn’t honor her husband—you all know that. I’m not saying J.D. is right in what he’s doing, but Erma is right in what she’s doing. Asking her to cross J.D. wouldn’t be. . .” He shrugged, red mottling his cheeks. “It wouldn’t be right.”
Another mumble sounded, each husband and wife conferring quietly. Marie stared across the room at Henry, who stared back, a silent apology in his eyes. Marie felt her heart double its tempo. She understood the meaning behind his words. He wanted J.D. to accept her as much as she did, yet he didn’t want any more conflict while they waited for her father to bend. The same feeling of kinship that had swept over her at other times in Henry’s presence returned, rising higher and causing her pulse to pound.
“Marie—”
Reluctantly, she turned her attention back her older brother.
“Doris and I have a room you could use.”
Marie’s breath came out in a sigh, tears stinging her eyes. “Oh, Art, I appreciate that so much.” She glanced at Henry. “But you know, what Henry just said about Mom needing to honor Dad. . .” She let her gaze sweep the room, briefly touching each of her siblings. “I think all of us need to honor him, too. I am thrilled to be here today, but I know your choosing to be with me instead of with the folks creates conflict between you and them. My moving in with any of you would only expand that conflict. I don’t want to be responsible for creating any more trouble than I already have.”
“So what will you do?” Joanna asked, tears in her eyes.
Marie took her sister’s hand, looking at their intertwined fingers. “I don’t know. But I know who does know, and we can petition Him in prayer. If I’m meant to stay in Sommerfeld permanently, He will provide whatever is needed. And if those needs aren’t met. . .” The next words had to be forced past a knot in her throat. “Then I know it’s His will for me to go back to Cheyenne.”
Marie lifted her gaze to look around the room at each person. “But this time, I’ll make sure God is a permanent part of my life. I won’t cast Him aside again.” Smiling through the tears that blurred her vision, she added, “I can be Mennonite in Cheyenne. And I will visit. Often. I won’t separate myself from any of you again.”
A lengthy silence followed, in which each person appeared introspective, their gazes aimed unseeingly at various spots in the room. Except for Henry, whose gaze remained pinned to Marie’s face. She returned his unwavering gaze, hoping he read in her steady contact that she meant the promise for him, too.
Eventually, the silence was broken by a thump and a startled wail from one of the bedrooms.
“That’s got to be Sharolyn,” Phyllis said, bouncing to her feet and heading for the hallway.
Conversations broke out again, the topics less serious. Phyllis returned, carrying her daughter, who tumbled into Leo’s arms and snuggled her tear-streaked face against his shoulder. Marie settled back on the sofa and absorbed the typical, boisterous, clamoring scene, a lump of gratitude in her throat for having the opportunity to be part of this large family once more. At the same time, she offered yet another prayer for the circle to extend to include Beth, Abigail, Ben. . .and her parents. She missed them with an intensity that created an ache deep inside. Looking at Sharolyn in Leo’s arms provided a reminder of the long-lost relationship between herself and her father, as well as Beth’s lifelong absence of a father.
The clock on the mantel chimed five times, signaling the approach of suppertime. Joanna slapped her hands to her knees, pushing herself to her feet. “Well, I guess I’d better pull out some lunch meat and—”
A knock at the door interrupted her words. Hugo started to rise, but she waved her hand at him. “Stay put. I’m up.”
She opened the door, and a slightly younger, more slender version of Art stepped over the threshold. Marie leaped to her feet, her arms automatically reaching for the brother who, two years her senior, had alternately teased and protected her while growing up. “Ben!”
But Ben remained rooted on the little braided rug inside the door, his unsmiling gaze sweeping around the room.
Art rose haltingly. “Is something wrong?”
Ben’s jaw thrust out, reminding Marie of her father’s stern posture. When he spoke, his voice thundered with accusation, bringing another reminder of J.D. into the room. “My house was broken into this morning.”
Gasps filled the air. Marie’s legs trembled, and she sat back down, her eyes dry but unblinking. A hand descended on her shoulder—Joanna’s. She clutched it, grateful for her sister’s comforting presence.
“The thief is still in Sommerfeld?” Leo’s disbelieving query hung in the room.
Ben nodded stiffly. “Apparently so. And he strikes at the only time the watch isn’t active. That tells me this thief is knowledgeable of the town’s activities.” His glare turned on Marie. He took one step toward her. “Only one person in this town knows all the goings-on but avoids the meetinghouse. You know, too, don’t you?”
Marie gaped at her brother, her jaw flapping uselessly. She knew. Lord help her, she knew.
TWENTY-FOUR
Marie drew in a deep breath as Henry turned into the driveway of Lisbeth’s home. Her car waited at the back of the house, indicating Beth was there. She released the breath slowly through her nose, praying for strength.
Her gaze on the car, she gave a start when a hand closed over hers. Turning her head sharply, she found Henry fixing her with a concerned look.
“Would you like me to go in with you. . .to support you?”
Marie’s heart turned over. Henry had been such a good friend in her younger days. It amazed her that, after the number of years that had slipped by and all the changes, he could still offer his friendship so easily. A part of her wanted him to come in with her, to stand beside her, to face Beth with her. But the greater part knew she couldn’t depend on him that way.
With a sigh, she said
, “I appreciate your offer, Henry, but it’s better I go alone.” She gave the hand holding hers a quick squeeze, then pulled away. A chill struck with the removal of his warm touch. Before she changed her mind, she opened the car door and stepped out, then hurried to the back porch. She stepped into the house without looking back at Henry.
Beth sat at the kitchen table, a newspaper spread in front of her. At Marie’s entrance, she looked up, and her face broke into a huge smile. “I’ve been waiting for you! I can’t wait to show you something.”
Marie’s heart pounded. “Honey, I need to talk to you.”
Beth jumped up, her blue eyes dancing. “Can’t it wait? I think you’re going to be surprised.”
Removing her coat with trembling hands, Marie debated the best thing to do. She draped the coat over the back of a chair and looked once more into Beth’s eyes. Suddenly she couldn’t ask the question that pressed at her mind. She forced her lips into a smile. “What surprise?”
Beth grabbed her mother’s hand and led her down the hallway to her bedroom, chattering as they went. “I originally planned to save this for Christmas, but I can’t wait. I hope it’s okay if you get a present two weeks early.”
It had been weeks since Marie had seen Beth so cheerful. She offered a silent prayer for guidance, then managed to answer in a teasing tone, “I’ll take a present anytime. What is it?”
With a giggle, Beth pulled her through the door and pointed at the cot where a teddy bear sat, its arm outstretched as if reaching for a hug. Tears filled Marie’s eyes, blurring her vision, but she recognized the fabric used to create the bear. Lisbeth’s appliquéd heart quilt.
On shaky legs, she moved to the cot and lifted the bear. She turned to face Beth, who beamed from the doorway.
“Are you surprised?” Before Marie could answer, she bubbled, “I’m sorry to have been so secretive, but I really wanted to surprise you. I’ve been spending a lot of time in Newton with an older lady who is teaching me different crafts. I saw her advertisement in the paper, and I thought having some unique craft items in addition to the one-of-a-kind antiques for the boutique would draw in more customers. So I’ve learned how to turn cutter quilts into stuffed animals or wall hangings, and I’ve even learned to make stainedglass windows. It’s been fun!”
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