As she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and waiting for sleep to come, Jenny thought about the events of the evening.
She'd thought she would return home and have a quiet dinner with her grandmother, talk awhile, and go to bed early. She'd told Matthew before she left that she didn't know how late she'd arrive and planned to see him and the children the following day.
But plans had changed.
Matthew, the children, and her grandmother had made her arrival an occasion with a family dinner, and there had been happy chatter and good food and a loving atmosphere.
The way that the children had shown how fond they were of her warmed her heart. She knew how much they had come to mean to her but she'd had no idea how much she meant to them.
Could they need me as much as I need them?
She'd fantasized about what it would be like to be married to Matthew, to love him and his children, to be a family.
Jenny knew that these children had not lost as much as some of the children overseas. But they had lost their mother and needed one again. And she wanted so much to be that mother to them.
She drew in a deep breath and let it out. She could relax more now that David had interviewed her and he'd invited other people to continue her work. She could have her surgery and get better.
It was very, very clear that she'd had an answer to prayer about the situation. With Him in charge, she knew she could relax and let go.
Sighing, she fell asleep.
M
atthew pulled up at Phoebe's, but before he could get out, Jenny emerged and came down the walk.
"Phoebe's taking a nap," she told him as she got into the buggy. "I thought I'd wait by the door so we didn't wake her."
"Is she ill?"
"She's fine. We both stayed up a little late last night."
Matthew signaled the horse to enter the road and then turned to nod at Jenny. "You had much to catch up on, eh?"
"I—yes, I guess you could say so." She sighed as she looked out at the passing scenery. "The snow's melting. It isn't ugly and messy the way it was back in the city."
"But you seem glad you went there."
"It was good to see David and his family. I saw some of my friends at work. Saw my boss." She sighed. "Busy."
"And you still found time to buy presents for everyone." He glanced at her and grinned.
"I liked that part of the visit." She smiled at him. "It's nice to be going into town just for fun, not for some kind of therapy."
"When do you go there again for therapy?"
When her smile faded and she didn't answer, he glanced over. "Jenny?"
"I won't be going again."
"You're through?"
"Not exactly. Listen, could we talk about something else?"
He turned to frown at her. "Jenny, are you certain that it's a good idea to stop the therapy?"
"Matthew, please?"
Their eyes met. He hesitated and then nodded. "We'll discuss it later."
He thought about how different this ride was than those than had come before—not just the ones where he'd driven her with Annie to speech therapy or to the physical therapist. No, he was thinking about the rides they had taken in his buggy when they were teenagers years ago.
He glanced at her, wondering if she ever thought about those times. Sometimes he saw something in her eyes when she looked at him, something that made him wonder if they would stay friends or become more.
Then, last night, he'd felt that things had changed. That was why he'd asked her out today. They needed to talk. He was no longer that young man who felt so elated that he'd found a woman he wanted to love for the rest of his life.
After she'd left that summer, reality had hit him hard and disillusioned him for a time. He'd thought they could surmount the distance between their worlds, and it had been a bitter pill to swallow to find out that he was wrong.
And then Jenny had returned , and though many years had passed and many joys and pains, it seemed that their paths had converged for a reason. He'd been afraid to think that it was a second chance.
She'd said she felt this was home. When her being in the community had been questioned, she had reacted with dignity and respect, but a stubborn belief that she and Matthew were entitled to have a relationship without others' scrutiny.
And she had returned even after she had visited her
Englisch
world, this time when he'd feared that she would not.
He'd watched her and seen that she loved his children. That was so very clear. But did she love their father as much?
"Matthew?"
He turned. "Yes?"
"You're being awfully quiet. I'm sorry if—"
"I am not angry with you," he assured her. "I was thinking."
She tilted her head, studying him. "About what?"
"I have something to show you."
"Okay."
The next road seemed familiar, then they stopped near a huge tree. Snow covered the ground beneath its bare branches. They walked over to the tree, hand in hand.
This tree looks vaguely familiar.
Then she remembered. "We picnicked here that last summer."
Something was carved on it, just a little above her head—a heart with their initials.
"When did you do this?" she asked, touching her fingers to it.
"The last day you were here. I was going to show it to you, but Phoebe said that your father had come to get you and I didn't see you again."
Her eyes flew to his. "Oh, Matthew, I'm so sorry."
"I was angry," he admitted. "But later, I understood why you had to leave."
She found that she was holding her breath. "Matthew, why did you bring me here today?"
"I've watched you with my
kinner,
Jenny, and I know that you've come to love them."
"Who could not love them?" she asked, smiling.
"Is it possible that you could love me, too?" he asked quietly.
Before she could answer, he grasped her hands tightly. "I loved you as a pretty, young girl, and I love you even more now as the beautiful woman you have become."
He stole her breath. He made her speechless.
Jenny threw her arms around him. "Oh, I don't think I ever stopped loving you," she cried against his shoulder.
Pulling her back so that he could look at her, his eyebrows rose as he saw the tears. "You're crying?"
"Happy tears," she said, sniffing. "Don't you know about happy tears?" She laughed. "Joy had to explain them to Sam, but you're a man, you should know."
He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped them away. And then he bent his head and kissed her.
Jenny closed her eyes and savored the kiss. This wasn't the kiss of a tentative young man who had kissed her when they were out picking blueberries. This was the kiss of a man who was not moved by youthful impulse and passion. It was the deliberate, intense kiss of a man who loved.
He held her then, grateful that he had spoken his heart. Grateful to God for bringing her back to him.
When at last they separated, he smiled. "Will you marry me, Jenny, and be my love?"
She stared at him as the words sank in. And then she cried, "Yes!"
"You said I was quiet a while ago," he said as they drove to the restaurant in town. "I was thinking about the past. Have you ever wondered what might have happened if your father had not come early for you that summer?"
"I'd still have gone away," she said slowly. "College was so important to me. I guess I thought you'd be here when I finished. You know, that I'd come back summers and see you. I know that sometimes you marry young here, but I still felt college was something to be done first."
She frowned as she remembered. "But you didn't answer my letters, and so I thought you weren't interested in me, that my feelings weren't returned."
"It was never that," he said quietly. "But I felt we would not be able to have a future together and I had to move on."
She put her hand on his. "Tell me about Amelia."
"I knew her all my life," he said. "We were friends, and she comforted me after you left. Friendship turned into a quiet kind of love."
He turned to look at her. "It wasn't the kind of intense feeling that I'd had for you, but I think I was afraid that kind didn't last. Instead, I had only to see you again and there it was, strong and true."
They had arrived at the restaurant. He guided the buggy into a parking place and when he turned to her, he saw that there were tears in her eyes again.
"Those don't look like happy tears, Jenny."
Pressing her fingers to her trembling lips, she shook her head. "I need to tell you something. Something serious. What I have to tell you may affect how you feel about me, Matthew, and I'll understand if it does."
Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him. "While I was in New York City, I went to see the doctors."
His heart constricted. "Jenny, please don't tell me there's bad news. God wouldn't bring you back to me just to take you to be with Him so quickly."
"Well, that puts things into perspective," she said, staring out pensively. Then she turned to him again. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to worry you. I'm not ill, not the way you mean. I had injuries, scarring—"
"I've told you that you shouldn't worry, that you're beautiful—"
She smiled at him. "And I love you for that." Her smile faded. "But I'm not talking about scarring on the outside. Matthew, there is a real question about whether I will be able to have children."
He laced her fingers with his. "I would be sorry if that didn't happen since you so obviously love them and want them, Jenny. Children are such a joy and a blessing from God. But I'd like to share my children with you and hope that they would be enough?"
"Would they be enough for you, Matthew?"
"Whatever is God's will is enough for me, Jenny. If we're to have more, we will. But in the meantime, we're blessed."
Hope blossomed in her heart, swelling outward. She squeezed his hand. "Yes, we're blessed. Imagine, in a short time I've gone from thinking I would have no children to suddenly having three."
They went inside then, to eat and to get warm.
They served themselves from the buffet, sat down, and thanked God for the meal. Matthew picked up his fork and began eating.
Then he looked up at her. "Jenny? Aren't you hungry?"
"I'll eat in a minute. There's one more thing I need to talk about," she said. "You asked about physical therapy earlier and I didn't want to talk about it."
She bit her lip, upset to have to even say this, then plunged in and told him about the surgery. He put down his fork and listened, looking more and more concerned as she went on.
"The doctor wanted me to stay and do it right then," she finished.
"I don't understand why you didn't stay. If it was needed, you shouldn't have come back home." Then he shook his head as she hesitated. "Ah, I know why. You made a promise to Annie."
"I couldn't break my promise. She wouldn't understand. Now she'll trust that I'll come back next time."
"And I'll trust, too," he said slowly. "I worried that you wouldn't return this time. Now I'll know, too."
The Amish were careful about public displays of affection, but Matthew reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
"It just feels like I'm going backward," she confessed. "I got my hopes up that I wouldn't need more surgery."
"If there's a problem still, it needs to be fixed."
"I know."
"And you're getting better."
"I'm just going to backslide a little," she mused, tracing the design on the tablecloth with her finger. "It'll be a time of recuperation again, a walker for a while, intense physical therapy."
"But you're stronger this time, and you said the surgery is to get out more of the metal. It won't be as bad as last time, right?"
Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "You're right. And hopefully this will be the last surgery."
He withdrew his hand. "I know you're upset, but you need to eat," he told her.
Picking up her fork, she forced herself to take a bite and slowly her appetite returned. Before she knew it she'd finished most of what was on her plate. Matthew had her laughing over a story Mary had told about a boy at school.
On their way home a thought came to Jenny. She turned to Matthew. "Well, I'm disappointed. You never asked me on a date—I don't even know if you call it that?"
He grinned. "The younger generation calls it dating. The older ones in the community often call it courting." His grin faded. "I didn't know if you'd welcome it."
"I'm teasing you. What would we have done on a date?"
Now it was Matthew's turn to smile. "Many of the courting activities are for the younger couples. Singings, buggy rides, that sort of thing."
"Then I guess we could pretend we're doing it now."
"You know that you don't take on just the children and me?" he asked her earnestly. "You must be baptized into the Amish church. That is, if we stay here."
"Stay here?" Then she realized what he was saying. "Matthew, I would never ask you to leave here!"
"And I would never ask you to stay if you couldn't embrace the religion, the life here," he told her firmly. "I've done a lot of thinking about that."
"I was attracted to your life when I was a teenager, remember?" She paused, then grinned at him. "As well as to you."
He grinned back, and his relief was palpable. "Marriages take place in November, after the harvest. Well, sometimes we have a few at the beginning of December, but the weather can make travel to a wedding difficult."
"November? That's so far away!"
He took her hand. "You'll need the time to have the operation and recover. And you'll need to study to join the church."
Lifting her chin with his free hand, he studied her. His eyes were warm. "The time will go quickly, Jenny."
"I guess." Then she realized that she was being impatient again. She barely envisioned a future with him, and now that one lay on the horizon, she couldn't wait. But it wasn't as if she wouldn't see him every day.
"Who shall we tell first, my grandmother or the children? Or shall we tell them at the same time?"
"Let's tell them at the same time."
Jenny leaned her head on Matthew's shoulder and savored the closeness. She was disappointed when they arrived at her grandmother's home. But he kissed her and promised to return to pick them up for supper at his home.