Bertha's Resolve: Love's Journey in Sugarcreek, Book 4

by Serena B. Miller

  George seemed tired and sad. He was a good man who had seen too much in his lifetime of disaster relief and working with third world countries.

  “I’m going back to help with the temporary clinic Dr. Lawrence is setting up tomorrow,” George said, as he left. “I’ll let him know that you have things well under control.”

  The heat was still beating down on the roof that George had repaired, and there wasn’t much breeze. By the time she finished everything, her clothes were sticking to her skin like paste. Once George was gone, while she waited for the boys’ sheets and coverlets to dry, she went to the bathroom, undressed, and began to wash the sweat off herself. Charlotte had some bath soap setting out that smelled like lilac, and the scent of good soap paired with the lukewarm water comforted her.

  When she finished, she could hardly bear to put the soiled clothing she’d been wearing back on. Charlotte had left so hurriedly, many of her dresses were still in the bedroom closet, but she was a smaller woman. Even though Bertha knew Charlotte wouldn’t mind if she borrowed a clean dress, there was no way anything Charlotte owned would fit her.

  Anthony, however, did have a brown robe hanging on a hook in the bathroom that was large enough to fit her. She looked at it longingly. It would be so good to feel clean cloth against her skin once again. Neither Anthony nor Charlotte would mind if she slipped into it for a bit before donning her dirty clothes again, and so she did.

  She felt the boys’ bed linens again. Still damp.

  It had been quite a while since she had eaten, but even more than hunger, she was tired. She knew that once she got back to the children’s home, there would be no sleep. The children would want her immediate attention, and it would be wise to be rested enough to rise to their needs.

  Longingly, she glanced at Anthony and Charlotte’s bed. It wouldn’t hurt if she lay down for a few minutes, she decided. Just until the boys’ laundry was dry.

  Anthony had mentioned that he intended to stay at the hospital for tonight. He had access to a room and bunk bed there. She thought this gave her the freedom to rest for a few minutes undisturbed. Alone in Charlotte and Anthony’s home, she crawled into bed. It felt so good. It was large enough for her to stretch out. She lay there, physically comfortable for the first time in weeks, taking stock of her life and all that had happened in the past few hours—starting with the near-miss with Anthony.

  Bertha’s heart still sang with the knowledge that he loved her. If she were a different sort of woman, she would use his passion to wrest him away from his wife and children. But as she thought about those three precious little boys--who practically worshipped their father—and the toll it would take on Charlotte--she knew she could never do that.

  If she gave in to her great love for Anthony, it would devastate four innocent lives. No matter how deeply she loved him, it was not within her to bring about that much suffering. Nor was it within Anthony.

  There was also his work. He had grown so important to this place. The people depended on him. The ramifications of what would have happened had George not interrupted them was unnerving.

  They were better people than this. Much better.

  And yet…

  She tossed and turned, wrestling with her love for him as she faced the inevitable. It was not within her to break the hearts of his three sons and their mother. She would prefer her own heart be shattered than to cause that much pain to people she loved.

  Alone in the darkness, she resolved that she would not destroy a family—not even to be with the only man she had ever loved.

  Exhausted by lack of sleep and hard work, she made one final decision before closing her eyes for a much-needed nap. She was going to have to leave the island. Leave the children and people she had grown to love at the children’s home. Leave Anthony and Charlotte and their boys. If she stayed, the temptation to give in to her love for him would be too great.

  She knew her departure might break Anthony’s heart—it would most certainly break hers--but he would ultimately feel relief over her decision to remove herself from his life and Charlotte’s. Memories would fade. He would sink back into his work and forget her.

  Tomorrow, she would look for a way to get off the island. In a few minutes, she would go back to the children’s home and pack. It was the greatest gift of love she could give him—to protect him from losing his family and his reputation. For him, she would leave the work for which she had sacrificed so much.

  Having made her decision, feeling noble and pure of spirit, she closed her eyes, planning to rest just for a few minutes.

  Chapter 63

  The last thing Bertha expected to do was to fall so deeply asleep that she didn’t awaken until hours later. Long after night had fallen. Long after she should have retrieved the bed linens.

  Unfortunately, Anthony chose not to sleep at the hospital that night.

  “Why are you wearing my robe?” he said sternly. “And what are you doing in my bed?”

  Bertha felt disoriented as she looked around the darkened room. Anthony shined a flashlight in her eyes.

  “I-I…”

  The realization of how this must look to him came flooding in and along with it, humiliation. How terrible this must look! He must think she was waiting here to seduce him, instead of having made the self-sacrificial decision to leave as soon as possible.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think you were coming tonight. My clothes were so dirty. I was so tired, Anthony…”

  He cut her off by tossing the keys to the jeep to her. “If I had known you were here, I would never have come home. You are too great a temptation. Get out of here, Bertha. Right now. Before I do something that I will regret for the rest of my life.”

  His undeserved anger struck fire in her own heart. He was acting as though she were the one to blame, and she wasn’t. It was he who had allowed her to see the love he had for her.

  She had done nothing except work next to him these past few weeks, trying to anticipate every surgical tool or medicine he might need. She had gone beyond what any nurse should have to endure, taking on tasks that she should not have had to do, trying to make things easier for him.

  “I don’t need your jeep!” She threw the keys at his head, he ducked, and the keys clattered against the wall. “I’ll walk back to the children’s home.”

  He looked concerned. “The Vodou drums have started. The people are anxious. Some of the priests are telling them they have angered the spirits. You shouldn’t be out alone tonight.”

  “That’s not your problem, is it!” she stormed at him, jerking the belt of his robe tighter. “I am not your concern. I will never be your concern.”

  He retrieved the keys and held them out to her. “Act like you have some sense, Bertha. Take the jeep.”

  “You egotistical idiot!” She grabbed her dirty and stained dress off a chair in the corner. “I was not waiting here for you! I fell asleep and didn’t wake up because I was so tired from trying to help you and your family.”

  She went into the bathroom, closed the door, and yelled at him as she dropped the robe and jerked her soiled dress on over her head. “I’ve done your laundry, scrubbed your floors, and got the house ready for Charlotte and the boys. My sin is that I took the time to wash up and put on your robe—the only thing in the house I could fit into!”

  “Bertha.”

  “The boys’ bed linens are on the line. Make up their beds before you go to sleep. I don’t want Charlotte to have to do it!”

  “Let me drive you back,” he said worriedly. “I can’t sleep with you wandering around after dark. There is real danger out there, Bertha. You know that.”

  She crashed out of the bathroom and threw the robe in his face. “Here. Forgive me for borrowing it. By the way, I’m leaving Haiti. And the children. And you. For your family’s sake. I wouldn’t want to be a distraction. Not to the great Dr. Anthony Lawrence!”

  “Bertha…”

  “I think that’s an excellent i
dea,” A quiet voice said.

  Both Bertha and Anthony turned to look.

  It was George. Standing in the doorway, watching and listening.

  Bertha covered her mouth with the back of her hand. Anthony turned pale.

  “George!” Anthony said, “I never…”

  “I don’t care what you did or didn’t do,” George said. “What matters is what happens from here on out. I’ve heard and seen enough to know that you two need to get away from each other. I’ll be making arrangements for you to leave, Bertha. Hopefully, tomorrow morning if I can arrange it. I’ll take you back to the children’s home now.”

  “Thank you,” Bertha said, trying to regain a modicum of dignity.

  “Anthony,” George said. “I suggest you spend the night in prayer. Pray for your marriage, your children, and your soul. Pray for the great good being done here in Haiti that Satan has tried to destroy through you.

  “I do love her,” Anthony said, heatedly. “But in my defense, I have never touched her in any forbidden way.”

  “And I don’t care!” George snapped. “What you feel or don’t feel is unimportant. I’m sending Bertha home, and I strongly suggest that neither of you has contact with one another again. Bertha, go get in the truck.”

  Walking out of the Lawrence’s house, believing she would never see Anthony again, she felt such a mixture of grief, loss, humiliation, and anger that she felt sorry for any Vodou priest who might attempt to stop her.

  Chapter 64

  “What happened when you went back,” Anthony asked.

  “Excuse me?” Bertha had been wool-gathering. Remembering. It seemed strange to come back to earth and realize she was sitting on a porch in Florida with him.

  “After you left Haiti before we left and you came back to the island, what did you do?” he asked.

  “I rented a little house in Millersburg.” She gathered her wits and concentrated. “I worked at the hospital there for a couple of years.”

  “Your family was okay with that?”

  “Of course not, I had still not chosen to be Amish, but they were pleased I was closer to home.”

  “Why did you go back to Haiti after Charlotte and I left?”

  “I like to finish what I start,” she said. “I’d promised God that if He helped me become a nurse, I would do what I could for the Haitian people, and so I did.”

  “How long did you stay?”

  “Twenty years.”

  “Good grief!” Anthony stared at her. “I didn’t realize you stayed that long. That’s a remarkable amount of life to devote to a mission work.”

  “It didn’t seem remarkable at the time,” Bertha said. “Once I became acclimated, it was the happiest time of my life.”

  “And this?” He touched the sleeve of her dress. “You became Amish again. When?”

  “My mother and father were needing care, and so was Anna. There was the inn to run so that they would have a livelihood. I couldn’t leave all the responsibility to Lydia. My father was still upset with me for leaving the Amish. Since I would be living at home, taking care of my family, it seemed less awkward to simply be baptized into the church. Besides, I had always admired and loved my culture. I only left in the first place because I felt it was the only way for me to be obedient to God’s call.”

  “Are you sure that in taking your vows,” Anthony’s voice was quiet and thoughtful, “you weren’t doing penance?”

  “Penance?”

  “For falling in love with a married man.”

  The question jarred her, but considering all that had happened, it seemed silly to deny what they both knew was true.

  “Yes,” she said. “I suppose, in a way, I was doing penance.”

  “Did you ever wish you had made a different choice and stayed on the island with me once we knew how we felt about each another?”

  “There were times,” Bertha said. “But in the end, I knew I could never be so selfish as allow myself to take a man away from his family.”

  “I often wished you had made a different choice,” he said. “But I was not that selfish either, and I was grateful you left.”

  “I have discovered that life, if one lives long enough,” she said, “tends to burn the selfishness out of you.”

  “For a good person, that is true,” Anthony said. “But some people carry selfishness straight into their graves. I’ve seen it.”

  “As have I.”

  Once again. Silence.

  What did one say, when there was so much to say? How did one even start? A lifetime lay between them, and yet the memories of what had happened between them were still fresh enough to cause pain.

  “If you had not left the island,” Anthony said, “You know that I would have had to.”

  “I know,” Bertha said.

  “I did love you,” he said.

  “And I loved you, but the memory of that last night together still stings. What I was not given a chance to tell you when you showed up so suddenly, was that I had already resolved to leave the island.” Bertha said. “With or without George intervening. Your anger was not necessary. I already realized that if I destroyed your family, there would come a time when you would grow to hate me. I could not bear the thought of that.”

  “It’s hard to imagine ever hating you,” he said.

  “Perhaps,” she said. “But ultimately, I could not see any way to build a good life on the embers of so many innocent people’s pain. Your sons revered you. They wanted to be like you. Where would the infidelity of their father fit into that? They loved their mother. How could they not hate you for hurting her? They would most definitely have ended up hating me.”

  Words she had never spoken aloud to anyone, she was now free to say to the one person who could truly understand.

  “Had we stayed together,” she mused, “I think we would have ended up two sad old people, estranged from our families, who in the end didn’t even like each other very much. Nor would we have liked ourselves very much. Instead, you have this beautiful home. You have your wonderful daughter. You have sons and daughters-in-law and grandchildren who no doubt admire and love you.”

  “I’ve seen too much of the wreckage people make of their lives to disagree with you,” Anthony said. “You saved us both by walking away. But what do you have? Did you ever marry? Do you have any children?”

  “No,” Bertha said. “I couldn’t.”

  “Couldn’t have children?”

  “Couldn’t marry.” Bertha smiled. “There were men who were interested down through the years, but how could I ever love someone else when I measured them against you?”

  His shoulders slumped. “I wanted you to have a good life, even if we couldn’t be together. You deserved a chance to raise your own children.”

  Bertha lifted her chin in defiance to his pity. “I have had a happy life. A rich life.”

  “I’m glad.” Anthony placed his hand over hers. “The sun is starting to set. Let’s go for a walk before it gets dark.”

  He rose and helped her to her feet, but he did not let go of her hand, nor did she let go of his. They held on to one another as they walked down to the beach together.

  It was so different from her regular life—this feeling of holding hands with a man for whom she had once harbored such deep feelings. But somehow, it felt exactly right.

  When they arrived at the edge of the ocean, they stopped and gazed out at the ocean as the sun began to slip below the horizon, streaking the sky with vivid colors.

  “It is so beautiful here,” she said.

  “Would you do me a favor?” he asked.

  “What is that?”

  “Would you take off your kapp and let your hair down? That is how I always think of you. That day after helping with that birth, for instance. You were so young and earnest. You had worked so hard to help. Been so kind to that laboring woman. So tender with the new baby. It was hot. You’d pulled off the headscarf that you wore. Your hair was so bright and lovely, and it f
loated on the wind flowing up from the ocean. It looked like spun gold, and you were utterly unaware of how beautiful you were.”

  She felt foolish, but the balmy air, the scent of the ocean, the sunset, Anthony standing so close…should she?

  “I’m an old woman, Anthony,” she said. “My hair is far from golden.”

  “I know exactly how old you are,” Anthony said. “But I watched you fight to protect the children in your care. I’ve seen you comfort the dying. I’ve watched you bring new life into the world. I watched you walk away from me when I knew you loved me. I know your soul. You will never, ever, be anything but beautiful to me.”

  Mesmerized by the passion of his words, she took her kapp off, dropped it on the sand, unpinned her braid, ran her fingers through it, and shook out her hair. The gentle ocean breeze captured it.

  “I remember everything.” Anthony took her face in both hands. “I tried hard to hide it, but as we worked together, I became so obsessed with you, I could hardly eat. There was a window of time when you could have had me with a snap of your fingers. And yet, once you knew that, you chose to leave. You kept me from destroying myself. Thank you for what you did.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. She leaned her face against his shoulder, breathed in his scent, absorbed the delicious feeling of being held by this man whom she had loved most of her life. Finally, with a sigh, he released her, picked up her kapp, took her hand in his, and they began to walk along the edge of the water together. Each deep in thought at the wonder of this night.

  For the rest of her life, she knew that she would forever remember this walk with Anthony, feeling—just for a short while—as though she were young again, and this time he was free to be hers.

  Chapter 65

  The U.S. military had managed to patch the airport tarmac enough that there was a commercial flight available for George to secure a seat for her the next day. Bertha packed her bags, said a tearful good-bye to the children and the staff. The trip to the airport with George was spent in awkward silence. What could she say? He knew what he knew. All she could hope for was that in deference to Anthony and Charlotte’s marriage, he would keep that knowledge to himself. The Amish and Mennonite were a large but close-knit community—which often made them a gossipy bunch.