Beside Still Waters (9 page)

A chill travelled up Aaron's arms as he sat on the front porch of his small house. Or at least what would be the front porch soon. All it was now was a few concrete blocks with boards set on top. His feet rested on the mud, that hadn't quite dried up from the last rain. He knew his mom would most likely get on him for muddying up his boots, but that couldn't be helped. A construction project wasn't the neatest place.

Beside him a lantern's glow sent a halo of light into the night. On his lap was his sketch book. He opened it, glancing over the sketches he'd drawn of his cabin. It was nothing fancy. A living area with kitchen, a large bedroom, and a small bathroom. It would be enough to get started.

He flipped past that, turning over blank pages. Near the back was his sketches. Yesterday he'd finished a landscape of his favorite fishing spot. Looking at it, he could almost feel the tug of the pole in his hand. Could almost hear the lapping of the water against the rocky bank. On the next page was one of their barn cat's new litter of kittens. He turned to the next page, and that was the one he paused on. It was a sketch of Marianna. He'd captured her in his mind sitting on the grass near the sandbox at the Yoder's farm. Her eyes were bright, surprised like they'd been when he'd looked back and noted her watching him. Her lips were lifted in a soft smile, and it warmed his heart just seeing them in the sketch. Aaron lifted his pencil and worked on her hand holding a piece of plucked grass. He could almost smell the scent of spring as he drew.

His smile faded as the sound of footsteps in the gravel on the side of the house took him by surprise. He dropped his pencil and quickly flipped back to the sketches of his house plans.

"Don't have a heart attack. It's only me." His friend Joseph walked around the side of the building. "It's not yer pa."

"You could have said something . . . when you were getting closer."

"And miss the look of panic on yer face?" Joseph folded his arms across his chest. "Although I don't see what yer so worried of . . ."

Aaron leaned down and picked up his pencil, wiping off the mud on his jeans.

"You know how my father is. There's work and there's sleep, and not much time for anything else."

"Too bad. You have a real talent."

Aaron cleared his throat. "And where will that lead? You think I'm gonna have a gallery showing like the Englisch? Have my name on a sign out front so everyone in the community can whisper on how prideful I am?"

Joseph kicked his boot against the gravel. "Maybe not, but God did birth you with that talent."

"Since when did you believe in God?" Aaron glanced at his friend. Though Joseph still dressed like a good Amish boy, and drove a buggy, his heart didn't reflect the beliefs that Aaron cherished. The beer under his bed and videos hidden in his closet proved that.

"So why'd you come by anyway? Jest to harass me?"

"Just wondering if you wanted to go over to the Yoders? Some of us are meeting in the new barn."

"Sounds like you'll be up to no good."

"What did I say?" Joseph scoffed.

"Nothing." Aaron closed his sketchbook. "You said nothing, but I know you too well." He stood. "No thanks."

"Marianna doesn't have to know."

Aaron lifted his gaze. "But I would." He motioned to his house. "Building this I almost think of us as married."

Joseph removed his brimmed hat and ran a hand through his hair. "Does she know that? Sounds pretty serious."

Aaron stroked his chin. What would it be like telling her how he truly felt? Showing her this place? Sharing what it meant?

"Nah, but maybe I'll tell her soon," he finally said. "Should be seeing her tomorrow. Not once but twice."

"I wouldn't wait too long." Joseph turned and moved back toward the road. "You might not get the chance if you wait . . . from what I hear and all."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sunday dawned with a sweet scent drifting through Marianna's bedroom window, but before she could enjoy it, the throbbing of her hand reminded her of Naomi, of their conversation.

Marianna thought about staying at home, sleeping in, giving herself a day to mope and question if her father was serious about moving to Montana, but thoughts of Aaron Zook pulled her out of her slothfulness. She rose and opened her bedroom window wide, letting in more of the scent of green, new leaves and the slightest hint of rain.

In the next hour she dressed, fed her siblings, and they headed for church—in a hurry, like always. Wasn't Sunday supposed to be a day of rest and peace? Not for her. Not for as long as she could remember.

This day seemed like any other Sunday, but soon thick raindrops fell, plunking on the top of their buggy as they neared the Hershberger farm, where her friend Rebecca lived, and she realized that soon everything could be different.

"I imagine those pies you and Rebecca made will be quite a treat." Dat looked back over his shoulder. "I bet Aaron Zook will ask you to save a special piece for him."

Marianna bit her lip. It wasn't like her father was interested in Aaron. If he was, then he'd give up his plans immediately. He just wanted to try to cheer her up before they got to church—to make her smile and look like the good Amish family they were supposed to be.

She thought of a cutting response but held it inside. Daughters and sons were taught to always show their fathers respect, and she had to show him double to make up for her sisters.

"
Ja,
I suppose he will." She clasped her hands on her lap as their buggy turned into the Hershberger place. When the buggy stopped at the front door, Mem climbed down first, and then Marianna who scooped up Ellie, settling her on her hip. Mem held her stomach as she walked, and her face looked more pale than usual. Marianna could tell that even if her mother went along with her father's plan she wasn't happy about it.

They hurried toward the door, attempting to dodge the fat raindrops. Marianna didn't have to watch to know that her father would park the buggy next to the others, unhitch the horse and talk with the married men while the younger, unmarried men talked behind the barn and the children played.

Marianna pictured Aaron standing with the other older youth, talking about the same things the married men talked about—crops, animals, the weather—while also fidgeting from side to side, knowing they'd soon be seeing the girls.

Inside she removed her shawl and hung it on a hook inside the door, remembering the first time Aaron had talked to her in a caring way. She'd been eleven and he was the same age. He'd told her he'd liked her
Fonna-zu ruck
—her new dress that buttoned in the front. The
Hinna-zu ruck,
the dresses of little girls, buttoned in the back, so Marianna had felt like a grown woman as she wore the dress for the first time. Aaron's comment had added to her joy that day, and she'd liked him more than the other boys. And it was obvious the he liked her, too.

Inside the Hershberger house, the portable walls between the living room and dining room had been taken down, opening up the space. A group of men now worked, lining the room with long wooden benches without backs. Propane lanterns lit the space. A few women had already taken their seats, occupying the dining room area. Soon the men would fill the living room, filing in and sitting according to age.

Ellie rested her cheek on Marianna's shoulder, and even though the toddler was heavy, Marianna wasn't ready to find her seat yet.

She glanced around but didn't see Rebecca anywhere. Ever since she'd turned sixteen, her best friend Rebecca had missed more days of church than she'd attended, yet Marianna thought it would be different since this week's meeting was in her aunt's house, not twenty feet from Rebecca's home.

A glance at a long bench she saw Mem was already deep in whispered conversation with the woman sitting next to her. Marianna looked at the clock and noticed they still had twenty minutes before church started. She could run over and check on Rebecca and still be back in time for the beginning of the service.

"Go to the bench. Mem wants you." Marianna placed her sister on the floor. With a slight pout Ellie made her way to where her mother sat.

Marianna walked through the kitchen, slipped out the back door, and strode across the damp grass to Rebecca's house. Opening the door Marianna slipped inside and made her way up the stairs toward Rebecca's room. She wasn't sure if her friend was even there. There were many nights Rebecca stayed in town with Englisch friends, but Marianna hoped she was home. If she wasn't able to talk to someone, she was afraid her words would burst from her—like the fat drops falling from the clouds outside.

She knocked on the door, but there was no response. Marianna pressed her ear tighter against the unpainted, wooden panel and thought she heard the sound of music. She turned the knob and pushed the door open. Rebecca sat in the window sill, smoking a cigarette and listening to the radio. The battery-powered radio was turned down so low it sounded like a jumble of noise. But Marianna knew that Rebecca's reason for even bringing a battery-powered radio into the house, playing Englisch music, wasn't because she liked rock music, but because she could—no one would stop her. It hurt Marianna's heart to see. As Dat would say, it was the sign of a hardened heart when one turned one's back to the ways of their ancestors.

Rebecca's eyes widened in horror at the opening of the door. Then they narrowed again to their half-opened state when she saw who it was.

Marianna nodded to her friend, entered, then closed the door behind her. "Good morning. Yer braver that I, smoking in the window in that outfit in full view of the boys."

With tentative steps Marianna approached the window and peered down into the yard behind the barn. It was there the unmarried men hung around, close enough under the barn's eves not to get wet, but far enough into the yard to get a view of Rebecca wearing a night dress.

"Yes, well, I know for a fact, that a few friends of ours went on dates with those very boys, sleeping over at their houses last night, so don't try to make me feel ashamed. My father does a good enough job of that." As if emphasizing her point, Rebecca took a long drag from her cigarette and then tossed it to the ground two stories below.

Heat rose to Marianna's cheeks, but she didn't say a word. Her parents used to talk about their dates—including the sleepovers or "bed courtship" as it was called—and to Marianna it seemed natural, pure. Maybe it had been innocent back when her parents were young, but if Rebecca's wild stories were true, that was no longer the case.

Rebecca moved from the window and sunk down in her bed, pulling a colorful quilt over her thin frame. "So I hear your parents are moving?" The words were so blunt it surprised Marianna. She felt her throat tightening and tried to swallow down the emotion.

"They're talking like that, but I didn't know it was common knowledge." She moved to the bed and smoothed the wrinkled quilt, remembering many a night when they'd slept side by side under it, singing silly songs and making up stories about talking deer that lived in the woods beyond their farms.

"Are you going with them?" Rebecca sat on the side of the bed, brushing her mass of dark curls back from her face.

"I'd have to. What did you think, I'm going to live here alone?" Even as Marianna said the words the room around her darkened in shades of gray. She'd had yet to spend a night alone. She couldn't imagine her father not turning out the lanterns, wishing everyone a good night. Couldn't imagine her mother not waking her with her humming as she started the laundry as soon as the morning light filtered through the window.

"Why not? Your house is going to be empty, right? You're almost twenty, a grown woman, and there's a pretty good looking guy outside who I'm sure would be interested in a few dates, if not more."

Marianna's stomach tightened as if Rebecca's words wound up a crank. Part of her knew Rebecca was right. She had to admit she wondered if things would move quickly with Aaron. Some of her friends had started dating at eighteen and were married within a year, others even sooner. She also liked the idea of staying in the house. It was familiar. It was all she knew. It was home.

"I suppose I could talk to Dat and see what he says. Maybe I can care for the animals and gardens." Marianna moved closer to the window and got the briefest glance of Aaron before he hurried to the house with the other unmarried men—which meant church would be starting soon, and she wasn't in her seat. Heat rose to her cheeks at the thought of hurrying inside late, in full view of everyone.

"I have to go, but if I don't see you this afternoon, I'll try to stop by tomorrow."

Rebecca nodded, and she leaned her head against the white wall, empty of all decorations. She waved, but it was half-hearted. She wasn't the same as she used to be. It was as if Marianna's friend had died and someone different, distant, had taken her place. There'd been no funeral, no burial, just a numbing that happened over time.

CHAPTER EIGHT