Along Wooded Paths (4 page)

The snow and fog filling the Montana sky outside the van window made Aaron feel like he was in a dream. Or maybe a nightmare. His hand gripped the handle of the passenger side door.

How long had they been on the road? It seemed like forever, though they’d left town only thirty minutes before. And the man’s driving was only getting worse. Why hadn’t Aaron told the driver to stop when he still had the chance? He couldn’t tell him to pull over now. Fields and forests stretched out on either side of the road, and beyond unfamiliar mountains mocked him, reminding Aaron he didn’t belong.

When he decided to leave Indiana, the only thing on his mind was Marianna. He’d thought of her every day as he built a home for her. He’d thought about her when she was gone. Even those days he’d spent with Naomi, Marianna had never been far from his thoughts. He tried to come up with the perfect thing to say when he saw Marianna again, but he’d yet to come up with anything good.

Go back.

He removed his hand from the door handle and crossed his arms over his chest. The heater groaned on high, but it did little good.

His eyes darted to the majestic mountain ranges, but he barely saw them. Instead he looked to his rimmed hat resting on his knee. He ran his hand down his face. The smoothness of the skin on his cheek mocked him. Fear caused his heart to thud in his chest. Fear that he’d come all this way and not see the love in her eyes he desired. For many years he believed in her love just as he believed the sun would rise the next day. But now?

The driver fiddled with the radio dial, then turned to Aaron.

“You talk English?”

Aaron’s head darted up.

“
Ja
. I mean, yes, uh, sir.”

“That’s funny. I was wondering. You haven’t said more than two words since you loaded up.”

Aaron shrugged. “Got a lot on my mind.”

“Ever been to the West Kootenai before?”

“No, sir.”

“What’s yer reason for coming?” The man took a sip from a thermos of coffee.

“Mrs. Sommer didna tell you?” Aaron eyed the man. His jeans looked like they hadn’t been washed in a week. A large mustache covered his lip and wiggled like a trapped animal when he talked.

“Na. She just sent a mess—”

For a moment it seemed the van floated off the pavement. Aaron’s stomach lifted, like it did when he pumped his legs on the old tire swing back home. His eyes darted to the driver, and the man’s eyes grew wide. The driver’s hands were fixed on the steering wheel, unmoving, but it was as if an outside force had caught hold of the vehicle. The man’s mouth opened in a silent scream. The road, black, shiny and glazed with snow, continued straight, but the van spun toward the opposite lane, heading straight for an oncoming car.

No!
Aaron leaned hard against the passenger side door as if his weight alone could push the van back into its lane.

Then, as if hit in the side by a large hammer, the van jolted and spun the other direction, gliding toward a cluster of tall trees.

“Hold on!”

Aaron’s vision sharpened as he focused on the large row of pines on the shoulder of the road. As if in slow motion, the van slid toward trees. Aaron braced his hands on the dashboard, his nails digging in. The tree trunks neared, and then—

The front corner of the van hit, causing a deafening crunch. Then, still in motion, the van spun and turned. Aaron’s door hit first and the sound of bending metal and shattering glass filled his ears. The crushed metal opened, like some monster widening its jaws, and closed around his leg. His breath caught as the tree before him quivered and then snapped, falling, falling. Aaron heard a terrified scream. Only when he felt tears wetting his face did he realize . . .

. . . it was his own voice.

CHAPTER FOUR

Ben crested the hill, newly fallen snow crunching under the tires of his old truck. The tools he’d loaded up in the back for Marianna’s dad, Abe, and her Uncle Ike did a good job weighing down the back. He was taking the tools up to the old Meberg place. Folks had moved into the area a few years ago and started an ambitious building project during that summer. Then winter hit and the snow piled high. They’d abandoned the house half-finished then headed back to a milder climate. Abe and Ike were part of the crew now finishing the job.

Ben was glad. It bugged him to see that house sitting half-done all those years. It seemed only right the brothers would finish what was started. Half-realized dreams did no one any good.

Seeing that electric lights had already been set up inside, Ben smiled. Sure, the Amish in the area keep plain homes, but when it came to work, most of them used the modern tools their bosses provided. They never seemed conflicted by that, and he never brought it up.

He parked in front of the house and jumped out. He was just about to open the tailgate when he noticed Abe striding toward him. Marianna’s father usually wore a wide smile, but not today. Ben ran a hand through his hair. What could be wrong? He hoped nothing was wrong with Marianna.

“Ben.” Abe approached, pausing near the rear of the truck. “It’s good of you to bring our supplies up. Our buggies would have had a hard time getting those things this way.”

Ben opened the tailgate. “No problem. Glad I can help.” He reached for a wooden sawhorse, but Abe’s hand stopped him.

“Hold up. Can we talk a few minutes first?”

“Do you need help with something else? Another load?” Even as Ben asked he could tell from the older man’s face this conversation had nothing to do with work.

“No. I’d like to talk to you about my daughter. Do you mind taking a short walk?”

“I don’t mind. I believe from the top of the hill behind the house there’s a great view of Lake Koocanusa.”

Abe nodded and headed that direction.

Sucking in a deep breath, and willing his pounding heart to calm, Ben stepped into pace next to the older man.

They walked toward the top of the hill, and Abe cleared his throat. He glanced over at Ben and let out a low sigh. “What I’m gonna say should have been said months ago. I’ve seen the signs, but Ruth finally convinced me that I should say something to you.”

Ben pressed his lips into a straight line. “Signs?”

“The care you and my Marianna have for each other. It’s plain to see for anyone looking.”

Ben nodded. His guess was that Ruth—Mrs. Sommer—had been watching when he and Marianna had emerged from the woods yesterday and that had been the last straw. He could try to explain—tell Mr. Sommer they’d met by accident, which was the truth—but it didn’t really matter.

Abe was right, and Ben knew it.

“As much as I like you, Ben, our Amish community has its own ways. To be baptized into the church you’re not just dedicating yourself to God, but your people. Relationships with outsiders are not to be. Fer as long as Marianna has been old enough to consider staying Amish, she’s made it clear she would. It’s all she’s wanted. To live by our ways, to marry, and to raise children to do the same.”

It’s all she’s wanted.
Those words played through Ben’s mind. Was that what this was about? Abe was worried that if their affection continued to grow Marianna might leave the Amish way of life? Ben clenched his fists by his side. Part of him understood their worries, their pain. This family had been through a lot. They’d lost two children to death and one to the world. No wonder they were being protective.

“I understand, sir, and I’d be lying if I were to say I didn’t care for your daughter. I do. I care so much in fact that I want what’s best for her. I mean if the Amish way of life is her choice—”

“It is.”

Ben nodded and his footsteps slowed as they neared the top of the hill. The trees were sparse and the world seemed to open up before them. There was not only a clear view of the lake, but additional mountain ranges beyond that. Ben wished he could crest an emotional hill and get such a view of his own life. To see in every direction and know the right way to walk.

“I understand what you’re saying, Abe.” Ben crossed his arms over his chest, and he turned to him. “And I will honor your wishes. I won’t push Marianna. I won’t attempt to draw her away. I can promise you that. But I do have one question.”

Abe stroked his beard as he met Ben’s gaze.

“You’ve been reading God’s Word for a while. Do you believe, sir, that one can be a follower of Christ without being Amish? That they have the same chance of getting into heaven?”

Abe’s gaze narrowed. He opened his mouth and then closed it again.

Ben lifted a hand. “You don’t have to answer me now. It’s just something to think about. But know I will do my best to be Marianna’s friend and look out for her best interest, just as I look after yours.”

Abe nodded once, took a final scan of the valley, and then turned and headed back down the hill. Ben wasn’t sure if he’d insulted the man. He hoped not.

Dear Lord, may You use my feeble words to do good, not harm.

Back at the truck they unloaded the tools and supplies together. They chatted about the project, about the snow, but Ben knew what weighed heaviest on both of their minds. When Ike came out to help, it was clear he sensed the awkwardness between them, but he didn’t say anything. It was only after Ben closed the tailgate and drove away, heading out the way he came, that he released the heavy breath bottled up inside.

It’s all she’s wanted.

Those words haunted him as he drove back home. As he settled before the wood-burning stove in his small cabin and opened his Bible, Ben knew what he wanted. He wanted Marianna. But did he want her at the cost of all she knew, loved, longed for?

To share his love would be to draw her away. To bring her shame. To put a wall between her and her family and community. Yet he also knew God’s heart, and even though he cherished his relationship with his Amish friends, he couldn’t help but question their commitment to tradition, to their old ways. While he appreciated their dedication to family, church, community, an uneasiness had settled deep in his gut. Something just didn’t sit right with him.

Over the past three years Ben’s relationship with God had grown. Following God by obeying outside rules—like rules of dress or whether or not to have electricity—was not necessary. And that’s where he struggled. Marianna could love him
and
love God. Her salvation depended on her heart, not her kapp. Problem was, mentioning such things to her would take away any chance of friendship, let alone the hope for more. He might have already ruined everything by questioning her father.

Ben closed his eyes to pray, but no words came. He wanted to trust God, but defeat gripped his throat, refusing to release. Pursuing Marianna—as he wanted—would bring more harm than good.

It was a hard decision, not pursuing her romantically. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to see her, but he knew something else. When he looked into her eyes, Ben saw she cared. And to confess his love would lead to something he never desired.

How could he ask the woman he loved to choose between him and the only way of life she’d ever known?

CHAPTER FIVE

Muddy footprints from yesterday’s slush lay buried under a layer of white snow that sparkled like the diamonds in Millie Arnold’s wedding ring. Marianna held her gloved hand out. Glittery flakes sparkled on the black wool. Not that she’d ever have a wedding ring like Millie’s. Well, unless she married an Englischman.

Not that she’d marry an Englischman.

She shook her glove, scattering the diamond snowflakes.

With wide swishes of her broom, Marianna swept snow from the front steps, but it fell faster than she could sweep. Millie Arnold had arrived not five minutes prior, settling into the table closest to the kitchen for warmth from the woodstove and conversation from the bakers. Now it wasn’t clear where her footprints had been. White flakes had smoothed the landscape with a frosting of white.

Marianna blew out a frosty breath. The bone-chilling air, whipping through the tall pines, stung her cheeks. Finished with the steps, she turned and swung open the door to Kootenai Kraft and Grocery. She stepped into the embrace of the warmth and stomped her snow-caked boots on the front doorstep. Snow ringed the hem of her plain blue dress like lace—the only lace she’d ever wear—and she attempted to brush it away.