“I don’t want to hear your version of the truth. You don’t get it, Gabe. You’ve been sheltered—we all have. All we do is follow rules. Don’t wear this. Don’t talk like that. No electricity. No music. No life.” He took a step back. “I can’t do it anymore. I want to live. I want to be free to be myself, my real self. I can’t do that and be Amish too.”
“And what are you free to do, Levi? Get your hair cut? Wear Yankee clothes? Cheat on your wife?”
Levi turned his head. “It’s not like that.”
“That’s what it looked like to me.”
Whipping his head around, Levi said, “There you go again, judging me. My perfect brother. Never commits a sin.” Levi’s eyes narrowed. “Except in his heart.”
Gabe froze. Surely his brother didn’t suspect . . .
“You have no right to say anything to me, not when you’ve been lusting after Moriah for years. You thought I didn’t know, but you weren’t very good at hiding it.” He crossed his arms. “I thought you’d be glad I was gone. Then you could have her for yourself. In fact, why don’t you? This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? It just kills you that she chose me over you.”
Years of resentment and bottled anger suddenly burst. With one hand, he grabbed Levi by the collar of his new, slick jacket and made a fist with the other, ready to plow it into his brother’s face.
But Levi didn’t cower. He didn’t flinch. He stared Gabe straight in the eye and said, “Go ahead. Hit me. Show me what I’ve known all along—you’re no better than I am.”
Gabe paused, his fist raised in midair. If he hit his brother now—and Lord knew he wanted to more than anything in the world—he would prove Levi right. Violence of any kind was not permitted by the Ordnung. How could he hit his brother, then turn around and tell him what to do afterward?
Slowly he lowered his fist and released Levi’s jacket. His brother stepped back and adjusted his collar, his gaze not leaving Gabe’s. Finally, Gabe looked away, the anger and energy flowing out of him.
“You’re not denying you love her,” Levi said.
Gabe let out a long breath. Why bother admitting what his brother already knew? “Moriah’s pregnant,” he said flatly. “She told me yesterday.”
Levi suddenly paled. “I . . . I had no idea.”
“No one did. She was going to tell you last night. Instead, she got your letter.”
Running a hand through his newly short hair, Levi began to pace. “What am I gonna do?” Over and over he mumbled as he stalked back and forth, arguing with himself in low tones.
In Gabe’s mind, there was only one answer, and he didn’t understand his brother’s struggle. “It’s an easy decision, Levi. Come home. If not for your own sake, then for your child’s.”
“You don’t understand.” Levi stopped and gave Gabe a haunted look. “Taylor’s pregnant too.”
“Taylor? Who’s Taylor?”
“The woman you just met. Taylor Johnston.”
Gabe’s heart fell to his knees. “You didn’t.”
“I couldn’t help it. She’s special—”
“So is your wife,” Gabe gritted out.
He stared at the snowy ground. “Look, I love Taylor.”
“Seems to me you love what she can give you.” Gabe gestured to Levi’s clothes. “Did she buy those for you? Did she tell you to cut your hair, shave your beard?”
“So what if she did? She didn’t make me do anything I wasn’t ready to do.” Levi looked directly at him. “I love her, Gabe. More than I ever loved Moriah.”
Shaking his head, Gabe asked, “How is that possible? You’ve known her for a couple months. You’ve known Moriah for years.”
“But I never loved her. Not like this. I should have never married Moriah. I should have known it wouldn’t work when . . .” He stared off into the distance.
“When what?”
Levi leveled his gaze at his brother. “You remember when I went to Indiana last spring?”
“Ya.”
“I never told anyone this, but I . . . met someone else.”
“A Yankee?”
“Nee, she was Amish. I had planned to stop courting Moriah, but when this girl found out about her, she didn’t want anything more to do with me.”
“Sounds like a smart maedel.”
Levi leaned against the seat of the four-wheeler. “She is.”
“I suppose Moriah didn’t know anything about this other maedel.”
He gazed down at the ground. “Nee. She didn’t. But it didn’t matter, because I came back home and proposed. I thought if I married her, when I was fully committed, I would never look at another woman again. I really wanted things to work out with her.”
“Levi, I don’t understand why they can’t.”
“Don’t you see? It isn’t Moriah; it’s me. Ever since we got married I’ve been feeling smothered.”
“But you said you loved her—”
“That was before I knew what love really was!” He jammed his hands into his pockets and looked down on the ground. “Moriah was convenient, Gabe. She was always there, always available. She’s a nice girl, a wunderbaar woman, but she’s suffocating me. The only time I can breathe is when I’m here with Taylor.” He looked up.
“Taylor has given me everything I’ve dreamed of, things I didn’t even know I wanted. All this?” He gestured to the barn, the house, the land. “It will be mine someday. That’s more than I’ll ever have working my fingers to the bone in the shop.”
“Do you really love all this excess, Levi? Is this all about money?”
Levi shook his head. “Nee. It’s not about the money. Like I said, I love Taylor.”
“But Moriah is pregnant! How can you abandon her like this?” Gabe walked up to him. “Levi . . . I don’t understand. How can you leave your child behind?”
Suddenly Levi’s shoulders slumped. His tortured eyes met Gabe’s. “I have to, Gabe. I can’t go back. Not ever. My life is here now. And that’s how I want it to be.” He nodded, as if trying to convince himself that his words were true. “Her family and the rest of the community will take care of her and the baby.”
Shock coursed through Gabe. He barely recognized his brother any more. “You’d let someone else raise your baby?”
Levi swallowed, hesitating before he responded. “In this case, ya. Ya, I would.”
“You have a responsibility to Moriah first, Levi. If you’re willing to give up one of your children, then let Taylor find someone else.”
“Her father would tear me apart.”
“We could protect you. If you confess your sin, the whole community will stand behind you.”
Levi let out a bitter laugh. “There you go again, branding me with your righteousness. I won’t confess anything, because I have nothing to confess. Even if her father had nothing to do with it, I’d still want Taylor. It’s best for everyone.”
“Except Moriah. You know the Ordnung doesn’t permit divorce, under any circumstances. She’ll never be able to remarry.”
“You think she’d be better off trapped in a loveless marriage?”
“I want her happy. She’d be happy to have her husband back.”
“I doubt it.”
Gabe was getting nowhere with his hardheaded twin. His brother was rationalizing his choices, twisting everything to satisfy his own selfishness.
Stepping toward Gabe, Levi said, “You could take care of her. I know you love her, Gabriel. You can have her now, if you want to.”
Gabe couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Levi, she is married to you! She will always be married to you. I’m not an adulterer.”
“Except in your heart.”
His nostrils flared. “You have no right to accuse me of anything.”
Levi paused. “You’re right. But you would be a better friend to her than I would be a husband. We both know that.”
“What about Daed? Have you thought about him? How he will feel once he knows you’ve left us?”
His brother looked out over the snowy landscape. “He’ll understand,” he said in a low voice.
“You know he won’t.”
“He’ll have to. And he’ll move on, just like he did after our mami died.”
“Levi, what if—”
“Are you even listening to me?” Levi sprang up from the seat of the four-wheeler, getting directly into Gabe’s face. “I’m not. Coming. Back. Not ever. The sooner you and everyone else understand that, the faster we can all move on.” He snatched his helmet off the four-wheeler, his expression dark and angry. “We’ve got nothing more to talk about, Gabe.” Stalking past his brother, he headed for the house, never once looking back.
A wave of frustration flowed over Gabe as he stared at Levi’s back, threatening to pull him under. Nothing he said made any impact on his brother. Then his anger diminished, replaced by deep sadness as he realized that Levi fully intended to leave the Amish, and nothing would change his mind. Levi hadn’t even asked about the state of their daed’s health. He’d already written off his family, fully embracing a woman and a life he barely knew.
Chapter 7
Moriah tapped her fingers against the kitchen table, the sound a steady, monotonous tattoo that broke the silence of the empty house. John had left a short while ago after she’d convinced him she’d be all right until Levi came home. She had gone along with the ruse, unable to tell him about her husband’s letter. He had seemed so weary by the end of the day, she knew he needed to lie down and rest in his own room, in his own comfortable bed.
She stilled her fingers, antsy but annoyed with the noise. Rising from her chair, she peered out of the kitchen window into the dark, cold night. The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon an hour ago. Gabriel should have been home by now.
Her stomach twisted itself into another knot. Not only because of the nausea of the pregnancy, but because her mind was completely occupied with Levi. Had Gabriel been able to persuade him to return? Maybe Levi had been drinking when he wrote the letter, so he wasn’t in his right state of mind. But she dismissed that outright—his words had been clear, his writing steady. Besides, she had never known her husband to touch alcohol. Letting out a sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest to ward off the sudden chill that had infiltrated her body.
Where was Gabriel? More importantly, would he have Levi with him?
All she wanted was for her husband to be here, to tell her the letter was a mistake, to reassure her that everything would be all right between them from now on.
But something deep inside chipped at her, causing fresh wounds, telling her that her hopes were fruitless. Nothing would be the same again.
A sharp knock sounded behind her. Whirling around, Moriah ran to the door and flung it open. She took one look at the man standing in the doorway and for a fraction of a second, her heart soared. Levi had returned!
But it wasn’t Levi gazing at her. It was Gabriel, his eyes filled with sorrow and regret. Her hopes had played tricks with her eyes, and her heart.
She stepped back until her waist banged the countertop. Reaching behind her, she gripped the cold Formica, forcing herself not to sway. She’d fallen apart in front of Gabriel the night before; she refused to do it again.
“I’m sorry, Moriah.” His voice was thick, as if his vocal cords had tightened up. “I tried talking to him. I really did.”
The droop of his shoulders spoke more than his words ever could. She realized he had taken the burden of his brother’s betrayal on himself and had tried to make everything right. But he couldn’t, and it was tearing him apart. She could see that, plain as day. Forgetting about herself for the moment, she gestured for him to come inside.
“Cold night tonight,” she said lamely, shutting the door behind them. “Come warm yourself.”
He took off his hat, walked into the kitchen, and dropped into the nearest chair. Moriah followed him. Looking into his ragged face, she said, “It’s all right, Gabriel. Thank you for trying.”
Gabriel ran his hand through his hair as he tossed his hat on the table. With a sigh he looked at her. “He’s not coming back, Moriah.”
“I know.” She sat across the table from him, a numbing cold infiltrating her body, as if she’d been submerged in a tub of ice. “What did he say?”
Gabriel stared down at his fingers. He curled them inward to his palms, making two fists. “He doesn’t want to be Amish anymore. Too many rules.”
From his vague explanation to the way he avoided looking directly at her, she suspected he wasn’t telling her the whole truth. “That’s it?”
“Ya. That’s it.”
His words sliced through her. “Did you tell him about the baby?”
A long moment passed before he answered, compassion in his eyes. “Ya.”
She swallowed. “I see.” She had to look away from him, unable to face the pity she saw in his gaze.
“I can’t believe he did this to you,” Gabriel muttered. “I could . . . I swear, Moriah, I could—”
With a gasp, she glanced up to see his full mouth stretched in a straight line. His hands were still clenched so tightly she thought his knuckles would snap. “What did you do?” she whispered, afraid to hear the answer.
His hands relaxed. “Nix. I did nothing.”
She breathed out a sigh of relief. “Praise God.”
“How can you say that? He deserves the worst for what he’s doing to you.”
“Gabriel,” she said softly, reaching for his hand. “Just because he turned his back on our beliefs doesn’t mean you should.”
His eyes met hers, anger still sparking in them. “How can you not—”
“Hate him?” She looked away. A part of her did, but she had to overcome it. She had to be strong for their baby’s sake. Tending the bitter weed of hate would only cause it to grow and overtake every aspect of her life. That wouldn’t be fair to the child blossoming inside her. “God will see me through this. He will see us all through it . . . even Levi.” Her eyes moistened, and she looked at him through misty vision.
He disengaged his hand from hers, and for a split moment, she missed its comforting warmth.
“I have to tell Daed,” he said. “I don’t know what this will do to him.”
“Wait until morning,” Moriah said. “He was very tired.”
“I’m worried.” Gabriel sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s not as strong as he used to be, but he still wants to work in the shop. I’m afraid he’ll hurt himself. But how can I tell him to quit?” He let out a bitter, flat chuckle. “It’s not like I can just fire my father.”
They were silent for a long time, lost in their own thoughts, dealing with their own emotions.
Then Moriah finally said, “I’ll move back home tomorrow.”
Gabriel’s gaze shot to her. “You don’t have to do that. You can stay here. Daed and I don’t mind.”
“Nee, I cannot. This isn’t my home anymore.”
“Moriah, it will always be your home. You can stay here as long as you like.”
She shook her head. “Gabriel, I have to leave. You know that. You and your father can move back into the house. I’ll be fine with my family. Once I tell them what happened, they’ll understand.” She closed her eyes, humiliation rising through her at the thought of telling her parents that her husband had left her, and for no other reason than he didn’t want to be Amish anymore.
Pushing away from the table, she said, “I’ll pack my things in the morning. Would you mind taking me back home?”
He stood and stepped toward her. “Moriah, I mean it. You don’t have to leave.”
Her bottom lip began to quiver. Why couldn’t she be strong? Pressing her teeth down for a split second to quell the movement, she then said, “I want to go home. I need my family right now. So does my child.”
He opened his mouth as if to protest once more, but then clamped it shut. “I understand. I’ll take you home whenever you’re ready.”
�
�Danki. And thanks for trying to convince Levi to come back. I know it had to be a hard thing to do.”
“Harder than I thought.” He looked at her for a moment. “I don’t think you should be alone tonight. Mind if I bunk in downstairs? I can sleep on the couch.”
A tiny thread of relief wound its way through her. He must have read her mind, as she dreaded being alone in the big house. Too many memories, too much loneliness. “I don’t mind. In fact, I’d appreciate it.”
Tobias nursed the last dregs of his coffee in the nearly abandoned dining room of Mary Yoder’s. There were only three other customers left in the restaurant—a tiny, elderly couple eating two crumbly pieces of apple pie and a rotund man, who looked only a few years older than Tobias, busily slurping the last watery droplets of his iced tea.
He didn’t know what he was doing here. Mary Yoder’s served good Amish food, but his mother’s was ten times better. Besides, he’d already had dinner and dessert at home a couple hours ago before hitching up his horse and ending up at the restaurant. For some reason he’d felt restless tonight, and spending the evening at home alone didn’t appeal. Everyone had plans for tonight—his parents were visiting an elderly neighbor, Elisabeth and Ruth were spending time with some of their girlfriends, and Stephen and Lukas were making some extra money helping their cousin clean out a barn in West Farmington.
He’d thought about doing some extra work in the woodshop, but he’d spent the entire day in there. All work and no play made Tobias dull indeed. At least he thought so. Although he did have a good time working today, except for cutting his fingertip on one of the saw blades. But he’d cut his fingers and hands so many times over the years. One more slice on his skin didn’t make a difference.
Tapping his foot on the carpeted floor, he sucked down the last drink of coffee and signaled one of the bus girls for the check. She was about the age of his sister Elisabeth, who couldn’t wait to finish school and start working outside the home. No doubt so she’d have ample opportunity to flirt with guys. He’d noticed how boy-crazy she’d gotten in the past couple months. He suspected his mother would have her hands full once Elisabeth turned sixteen.
The Hearts of Middlefield Collection Page 10