by Kelly Long
“Don’t fret so, Anke. Everything’s going as planned.” Well, not everything. Not if Matthew sleeps on the floor. . . . For all her fater’s enthusiasm over the marriage, she still wanted the arrangement between her and her new mann to be her choice—sealed and done. And I have a plan for that ...
Anke soon finished her hair and, with a parting sigh, left Tabitha in peace. But peace was not what she sought as she slipped out of her robe and turned down all but one lantern. She moved in the muted light, biting her lip and wondering whether she might present a more alluring pose standing rather than lying in bed. But the choice was made for her when she heard footsteps in the hall. She jumped into bed and curled up like a kitten beneath the quilt, her eyes closed as she feigned sleep.
She tried to remain relaxed as she heard the door open and close and then booted steps cross the room. After a few moments, she wondered at the lack of sound and was a second from taking a peek....
Her eyes flew open as the quilt was neatly pulled from atop her. She saw it flap, then drop to the floor.
“Ach!” She sat up with a jerk, a frown on her lips, when her husband pulled one of the goose-feather pillows from behind her back.
“I’m glad I didn’t wake you.” He laughed.
She glared up at him and hugged the edges of her shift around her, watching him as he lowered his suspenders and began to work the hook and eye closures on his shirt. Against her will, she followed the movements of his lean fingers in the mellow light.
“Only my shirt, all right?” he asked, easing the cloth from his shoulders.
“I’d rather it be more,” she said, daring a bit of humor, and he smiled at her as he dropped to his knees on the stolen quilt.
She almost smiled back, but then something chased across her mind. “You asked me why I wrote the ad. . . . Why did you answer it? Is there someone back home you loved and lost? Is that why you don’t want to consummate the marriage?” The possibility bothered her, but she had to ask. She didn’t like the idea of being a second choice.
He sighed and shook his head. “Nee, my curious wife. I meant what I said this afternoon. I want us to know each other better.”
“And the truth as to why you answered the ad?”
* * *
Matthew lay down on the quilt on his back and flung an arm over his eyes. What am I to say? He heard once more the echo of his glib words to his bruder. . . . incidental. That’s all she is . . . but here he’d discovered a flesh-and-blood woman, with strength and purpose, who wanted him as her husband in truth....
“I wanted a change. I saw your ad and your words . . . spoke to me.” He closed his eyes hard as he uttered the lie, grateful to put it behind him. She need never know, he reasoned. But Gott knows . . . Gott knows. . . . “Tell me something of your Blackberry Falls,” he said hoarsely, hoping to change the subject.
He heard her soft sigh in the stillness of the room. “Blackberry Falls is—a strange place, I suppose.”
“In what way?”
He heard her sheets rustle. “Well, you’ve met Bishop Kore. . . .”
He laughed softly. “That’s true. What’s his story? Is he married?”
“He was, long ago. My fater remembers his frau. She died when I was but a babe.”
“And your own mamm, Tabitha?”
“She passed after nursing Bishop Kore’s wife. There were fifteen people in all who died from influenza that year. My fater will only speak of it if I ask him. And I don’t ask him often. . . .”
Matthew cleared his throat. “Your daed seems to be happy that we’ve wed, but I noticed your face when he exclaimed over now having a sohn. How did you feel about—”
“I’m tired, Matthew. I’ll geh to sleep now.”
He nodded in the muted light, even though she couldn’t see him, and the minutes passed as he struggled to fall asleep himself. It was not until she turned down the lantern by her bedside that he could find refuge in the darkness and finally close his eyes....
* * *
Although his cabin was not far from the Stolfus haus, Abner drowsed by the fire after John went to bed. He was relaxed for the moment, after the stress of the evening. Still, he nearly jumped from the chair when Anke came soft-footed into the room.
“Well, I suppose that went as well as it might,” Anke whispered as she straightened the kerosene lamp on the cherry end table.
“Jah,” he whispered back, tense as always in her presence. He rubbed absently at the back of his neck, seeking something to say. She caught him completely off guard when she regarded him with a concerned expression.
“Does your neck pain you, Abner?”
“My . . . neck . . . ?” He lowered his hand slowly as rapid thoughts fired through his brain. What if I lie and say jah—what might she do? “I . . . don’t—”
“Here now. You’ve had yer hands full the last few days. Lemme give ya a bit of a neck rub. . . . That’s if you’d like . . .”
She drifted off, and he realized he would probably hurt her if he refused, not that he had any desire to refuse. To have her touch me would be . . .
She bustled behind the rocker and he felt her carefully roll down the back of his collar. He shivered, unsure of what to do with his hands; he settled for clenching the arms of the chair. Then she touched him, and he felt his belly tighten and his face flush. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him with kindness or warmth, and he was surprised to feel his eyes well with tears at the sensation.
Her fingers brushed the nape of his neck. “Yer hair’s a bit long.... I can cut it fer ya tomorrow if ya kumme round.”
“Jah,” he choked, unable to get anything else out.
* * *
Anke swallowed hard as she found the tight knots of tension in Abner’s strong neck. She realized that she’d been uncommonly bold to ask to help him, but to tell the truth, she wished that someone would rub her own neck. She knew that if she had a headache, Abner must surely feel worse after the stress of the day.
Still, it felt odd to be so close to him, but the idea of closeness always created anxiety within her. As usual, she found it was easier to avoid closeness than to fight the rising panic.
“There,” she muttered. “I hope that helped.”
“Jah,” he said, low. “I—I could do the same for you, Anke. I know today was hard.”
“Nee,” she said abruptly. “I be fine.” Fine . . . fine . . . but I’m not, and I surely never will be.
Chapter Seven
Tabitha turned on the brittle-edged stone steps that led to Aenti Fern’s cabin. The healer’s haus was rather remote, which suited Tabitha’s plans perfectly. “You can geh on back, Abner. I will be fine from here.”
“I’ll kumme for ya day after tomorrow.”
Tabitha nodded, then turned away to hurry up the steps. She had no time to lose. Matthew had left at least an hour earlier with a team of men set on harvesting the red oak hardwood. She had waved him away with a smile, and she refused to contemplate the warm kiss he’d given her before he mounted Gray, one of her favorite geldings.
Now she knocked briefly on the carved wooden door of the awkward little stone cottage and was about to knock again when Aenti Fern called, “Kumme in.”
Tabitha entered the fragrant place, in which she always felt she must duck her head to avoid the great array of herbs and flowers that hung drying from the rafters. She did so now, then straightened to geh and embrace the bent-backed auld woman who was working away, stirring a concoction on the small woodstove.
“Ach, Aenti Fern, there’s so much I need to tell you, but I—”
“Jah, kind, very much, I think, but your thoughts are racing with something more pressing, are they not?”
“Jah.” Fern smiled. “I need to borrow Huntress and I need you to turn me into a buwe. . . .”
* * *
Abner wound his way through the forest from Aenti Fern’s cottage, glad to be alone with his thoughts for the moment. He told himself that he c
ould cut his own hair, the way he usually did, by hacking it off with a knife. But a real haircut, under Anke’s kind hands, would be such a treat. And after all, she’d offered....
Half an hour later, he found himself on John’s wide back porch, while Ralph the bulldog barked to herald his presence. Anke opened the back door and Abner felt himself give her a sheepish grin.
“You said yesterday ta kumme round if I—”
“Needed a haircut. Jah, Abner, have a seat out here and I’ll geh get my things.” When Anke turned back inside, Abner sat on one of the ladder-back chairs on the porch and took Ralph up on his lap. The puppy rolled over to have his pink belly rubbed and snorted noisily. Abner put down the dog when Anke returned.
“Ach, geh on with ya, Ralphie,” Anke scolded, though Abner could tell that she loved the little creature.
She flapped an auld, clean sheet smartly and settled it around the front of his neck, tying it at the back. Then he realized that she was feeling the texture of his hair, as if considering more than his usual haphazard style.
* * *
Anke’s fingers slowed of their own accord. Once more, she found herself close to the man she admired, and she was determined not to run this time. At least give him a fine haircut. . . . She found that by concentrating on the soft thickness of his hair, she was able to focus on creating a suitable style while her anxiety was kept at a low simmer.
She took her time, despite the tense stillness he displayed and the tightness of his fine jaw. He’d never married, so he kept that jaw clean shaven, and she wondered why no woman had snapped him up as a mann.
She moved around to his front, while Ralph played beneath the sheet and Anke continued to cut and trim, whisking hair onto the sheet and porch. When she was finally satisfied, she lifted a small hand mirror up for him to see.
“Looks . . . fine. Really fine,” he mumbled.
She clasped the mirror and put her hands on her hips, cocking her head to study him at length. “Ya do look gut, Abner . . . even if I say so meself.”
Then she swept the sheet from his neck and shook out the hair onto the grass for the birds to use to make their nests.
* * *
The dew fell from the overhanging branches of the forest and the horses kicked up stones as they picked their way over the floor of the woods. The sun had yet to burn off the low-lying fog, and Matthew felt excitement in his chest as the group of men left Blackberry Falls far behind and slowly worked their way deeper into the mountains.
Matthew rode alongside a man toward the middle of the group of seven. Herr Stolfus had stayed behind to do paperwork. Matthew was grateful when the man riding next to him introduced himself as Big Jim. The nickname was apt, as the fellow had a barrel-like body, and Matthew felt faintly sorry for his horse. But Big Jim was affable and seemed to have taken no offense at the way John Stolfus had presented his new sohn-in-law that morning at the mill. Matthew inwardly cringed when he recalled the introduction.
Herr Stolfus had rushed him through breakfast, as eager to show off his new sohn as a giddy child with a toy at Christmas time. John had hustled him along the path to the mill, giving Matthew no chance to study the building before he was swept inside.
“Buwes!” John had called. “Gather round! Rejoice with me. . . . My dochder has finally married and I have a new sohn! I want you all to treat him as such, as he will one day, as Gott wills, take my place as owner and boss of Stolfus Lumber and Woodworking!”
Matthew had the absurd notion that he should lift his hand and wave at the group of thirtysome men who stared back at him. Some seemed bemused, while others glared at him with outright disgust. He realized, in that instant, that what had started as his own selfish desire to learn woodworking with a master had become very complicated. There were people involved whose lives and livelihood might one day depend on him, and he felt like a fraud and an outsider standing before them. He was determined to do something about it.
Now, he tried to concentrate on what Big Jim was saying. “Back when Pennsylvania used to be called Penn’s Woods, folks would say that ya could git from here ta West Virginia without puttin’ a foot on the ground—the trees wuz so thick together. Where you kumme from, I bet you’ve heard the same, haven’t ya, Matt?”
Matthew smiled, thinking of similar lore he’d heard growing up. “It’s true, though I grew up in a little town on the banks of the Susquehanna River. We were surrounded by mountains in the river valley, but the woods were nothing as deep and lush as this.”
Big Jim nodded, seeming pleased with his answer, and they rode on together.
* * *
“Ach, a buwe, you say, Tabby girl?” Aenti Fern’s wrinkled face wrinkled even more, until she looked like one of the dried apple dolls Tabitha used to make as a child.
“Jah, and I’m afraid it must be quick, Aenti Fern.”
The auld woman laughed. “Such things take time. Now, show me your hands.”
Tabitha frowned but knew there was no getting around one of Aenti Fern’s requests. She held out her hands, palms up, and the auld woman gently touched the tips of her fingers.
“So, child, your secret continues I see.... Will you tell your new mann? I wonder.”
“Nee, he wouldn’t understand.”
“Are you so sure?”
“Jah, now sei se gut, may we hurry?”
Aenti Fern sighed and turned away. “If we must. Take off your kapp and those shoes. . . .”
Chapter Eight
At the end of the day’s trek, Asa Zook, the leader of the small group of Stolfus’s men, called back that it was time to make camp for the nacht. Matthew had enjoyed the ride and was grateful for Big Jim’s solid company, although the others had spoken only briefly to him.
With capable hands, Matthew took special care of Gray, the big gelding, then tied the hungry horse to some low-hanging branches so that he might graze to his heart’s content. With his horse settled, Matthew made it a point to help wherever needed in setting up camp.
He bent to set a tent peg for Asa, but the taciturn man waved him off. “Geh on with ya, flatlander.”
Matthew felt himself flush with irritation. To be called a “flatlander,” or one who didn’t kumme from the mountains, was a direct insult. Still, he was not about to give any sign of temper, which would only make things worse among the men.
He took a hatchet from the satchel Abner had handed him when they’d left and went deeper into the woods, where the summer moon played hide and seek with itself among the trees and mountain laurel. He intended to cut some firewood, but he paused for a moment as the moonlight shone on a mossy stone against a tall tree. He went and sat on the stone, leaning his back against the tree, and took a minute to pray.
Gott, I don’t know what I’m doing here. I thought it was so simple, but there are so many people here that I could hurt . . . not the least of whom is my frau. Bless her, Fater. Your thoughts are not my thoughts, Gott. Lead me through Herr, for Your Glory. . . .”
Matthew bowed his head, ready to geh back to the camping site, when he heard a low voice begin to speak from somewhere close.
“It’s bad enough that the brat had to choose a flatlander—seems she thought she wuz too gut for the likes of us. But now, we’re supposed to see him as the sohn—the heir and our boss, huh. . . . I bet he can’t even whittle a toothpick. . . .”
Matthew listened intently, knowing they were discussing him and Tabitha. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but making his presence known would only aggravate the situation.
Then another voice came—lower and filled with more anger. “I say there’s many an accident in the woods—It might serve our future boss right if he met with a bit of trouble. . . .”
“Asa, what’re ya talkin’ about? We’re Amisch, and ta intend ta harm another is—”
“Shut up, Micah. Ya always wuz a coward.... Now, hush. Here kummes Big Jim.”
Matthew held his place, tense and motionless. He would have to be careful the next day wh
en they cut the red oak; he had no desire to be someone’s accident.... He bowed his head to pray once more, but all that rang in his head and heart was the Bible promise he’d learned as a child . . . “No weapon formed against ye shall prosper . . .” He knew that Gott would help him somehow.
* * *
Tabitha and Aenti Fern’s gray wolf dog, Huntress, had been following the group of men throughout the day in the cover of the deep woods. Huntress had a keen nose and was wise enough to hang back, lest they be discovered. And even if someone should see them, Tabitha knew that she looked just like another lumber buwe to the casual eye.
Aenti Fern had helped her bind her chest and had provided an outfit of Amisch buwe’s clothes, complete with the long, underwear shirt that most men wore in the woods because it kept them from being soaked with sweat and catching a chill. Some soot from the banked fire darkened her jaw like the beginnings of a beard and her hair was hidden under a tight cap. She moved on foot, knowing that a horse would likely give her away, but she was strong and fortified even more by the bitter elixir Aenti Ruth had made for her. In truth, it felt as if she could walk for days.
When the dark began to set in she found herself a cozy seat in a strong maple tree while Huntress lay down to silently guard the ground around the base of the tree. Tabitha was not afraid in the woods; Abner had seen to that. He’d often taken her on long rambles through the forest, pointing out which mushrooms were safe to eat and which ones could kill. He’d also shown her how to behave should she ever kumme across a mother bear and her cubs and how to treat a rattlesnake bite. But mostly, he’d shown her Gott as the Creator of the wondrous mountains and taught her that she could find kinship with Him there.
So, she unwrapped the corn muffins Aenti Fern had given her and munched away happily, dropping down a portion for Huntress to share. Tabitha could see the light of the men’s fire and allowed herself to doze for a bit, not wanting to put her plan into action too soon.
* * *
Abner allowed himself the luxury of taking a stroll through the myriad paths of Blackberry Falls. He knew he could geh over to the Fisher General Store, or Cubby’s, as it was called, and get into a checkers match, but he really felt himself to be at loose ends. Restless, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned the corner around a small pine, nearly running smack-dab into Bishop Kore.