Between Two Promises (13 page)

Turning resignedly for the sideboard, Elisabeth tucked the sketchpad back in the bottom drawer, careful to lift the linens without ruffling them, and returned to Aiden’s bedside.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone,” she said, smoothing the front of her apron.

“I promise.”

Someone moved by the door. Aiden sat up, expecting Daniel to walk in. Dejected when Rachel poked her head into the room, he slumped farther into the bed.

“Everything okay in here?” Rachel asked.

“He’s doing better,” Elisabeth answered on Aiden’s behalf, as if he were one of her fledgling students. “His fever broke.”

“Goot.” Without another word, Rachel left. Aiden and Elisabeth exchanged questioning looks. Uncomfortable, he turned away and sipped more of the herbal tea.

Chapter Ten

“I
F
YOU
’
RE
driving into town, do you mind stopping by Kevin Hassler’s newspaper office to pick up some labels for me?” Rachel had stepped off the stairwell and was giving Daniel a weary look. “I had him print up some labels for my baked and canned goods last week,” she said. “He should have them ready by now.”

Daniel stood by the front door, black felt hat in hands, his fingers massaging the brim. He was on his way to the hardware store in Henry to buy a few supplies for the woodshop, since he’d noticed Mark had run low on some items, most likely forgotten with the chaos from the wedding planning. He’d felt a bit self-conscious his mother had noticed that he and Aiden had driven the Suburban to the farm. (Aiden had complained about feeling too tired to trek the two miles from the inn.) But now that she wanted to take advantage of his having a truck—and apparently, she had even employed Kevin Hassler’s modern printer—the awkwardness had lessened.

“Your goods must be selling fast if you need to print out your labels,” he said. “You used to handwrite them.”

“Ach, takes too much time now,” she said. “Things really started to pick up at the flea market, especially with the holidays. And now with Gretchen and Leah, my hands are never free for myself.”

“I can imagine how hectic. At least the wedding is over and done with.”

Rachel arched her eyebrows. “Ya, this one. But soon it’ll be Grace’s turn, then David’s. Who knows, maybe someday you’ll even get remarried.” Her kapp framed that same passive-aggressive stare Daniel remembered getting as far back as when he was a toddler and had done something to earn her disapproval.

Wanting to avoid a quarrel, he turned for the door. “Best get going, then,” he said.

“Make sure you give Mr. Hassler something for his efforts,” Rachel called to him before he shut the door behind him.

Flurries continued to fall when Daniel climbed into the driver’s seat of the Suburban. Like the large flakes that danced by his windshield, his thoughts came in directionless swirls.

His mother clearly had questions for him, questions about why he had called off his wedding with Tara. The same nagging questions his father had had no trouble throwing at him the other day in Gertrude’s stall. Why should they care? He was man enough to make his own decisions. Yet why did the guilt press on him for evading their wondering eyes?

Upstairs in the house, Aiden probably had questions for him too—like why Daniel hadn’t come to check on him while he rested from the flu. Daniel never did have the best bedside manner. The minute he’d spied Aiden getting sick from his woodshop window, he should’ve driven him back to the inn. For now, he figured it best to leave him be. He was in good hands with his mother and Elisabeth. Best to let things lie still rather than stir up suspicions.

He was lucky—and surprised—none of the ministers had cornered him during the wedding reception yesterday. He supposed they had forgotten to speak to him, despite his father’s warning that they would. He hoped to make it back to Montana before the ministers seized an opportunity to grill him.

In town, he drove past the family’s vacant furniture shop. Briefly, he wondered if it could be possible to move back to Henry and reopen it. He reflected on the times he’d spent there, manning the shop, usually in the company of his two younger brothers. Were those days gone forever?

He stopped by the hardware store first, where he purchased boxes of fasteners, hinges, and magnetic catches. After making small talk with the store clerk, he left his purchases on the front seat of the truck and walked to
The Henry Blade
, two blocks down the street.

“Hello, Kevin Hassler,” Daniel said, stepping inside the small office. The heater was working overtime. He concealed his cringe from the hot blast of the electric baseboards. Daniel never understood why the Englishers always needed to crank up everything full blast.

“Why, Daniel Schrock.” Kevin stood from behind his desk. “How have you been? Aiden stopped by the other day. Back in town for Mark’s wedding too, I suppose?”

“Ya, that’s the case.”

“It was yesterday, wasn’t it? Hope it went well.”

“Everyone had a good time.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Daniel glanced at the woman typing at a desk. She looked familiar. Some local English girl he recalled seeing hanging out with a few rumspringa youth when he was younger. When Kevin did not bother to introduce them to each other, Daniel wasted no time mentioning what had brought him. “Mom wanted me to pick up some labels she had you print for her.”

“Ah, yes. Those labels. They’re right over…. Where are they, Carolyn?”

The woman stopped typing only long enough to point a large finger at a foldout table by the window, close enough Daniel could lay a hand on it.

“There they are.” Kevin smiled. “Carolyn printed them up.”

“Awful nice of you both.” Daniel glanced over at the shoebox on the table. Either Kevin or the woman named Carolyn had written on the lid in clear block lettering, all capitals: LABELS FOR MRS. RACHEL SHROCK. Daniel inwardly chuckled at the misspelling of the family’s name.

“I’m glad to see your mother selling enough of her canned goods she needs the extra labels,” Kevin said.

“Things seem to be picking up everywhere, I figure.” Daniel reached into his coat pocket and took a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to Kevin. “Before I forget, for your efforts.”

“No, Daniel, that’s not necessary.” Kevin waved his hand in front of his face. “I’m glad I could help.”

Daniel stuffed the twenty back in his wallet. He wanted to leave. A sweat built inside his winter jacket, and he hated the effort needed to make small talk with Englishers he hardly knew. He picked up the shoebox. “I’ll tell Mom to drop off some of her baked goods for you, then.”

“I’d love that.” Kevin grinned wider.

“Have a good Christmas.” Daniel nodded to both Kevin and Carolyn as he edged backward toward the shussly cardboard Santa hanging on the door.

“You too, Daniel,” Kevin said. “Say hello to your family for me.”

Back outside, Daniel relished the cool air. Something repressive hovered in that office, more than the heat. He hated being indebted to anyone, particularly an Englisher. Kevin was gracious enough. But that woman. She had made him feel like an intruder.

He wanted to take care of a few other things before returning to the farm. He welcomed the long, relaxing drive through Frederick County even while the flurries changed over to a steady snowfall. He stopped by his old farm. Only the slightest impression was left in the ground where the farmhouse had once stood, the same farmhouse where an emergency crew had found the bodies of his wife, Esther, and son, Zachariah. When he had decided not to rebuild after the destruction, the community had filled in the basement hole, along with everything in his past, it seemed.

Staring through the windshield at the field he currently rented to an English farmer, he reflected on his past life. Much of that life was gone. His wife, his son, his farm. Hadn’t everything happened for a reason? Wasn’t it all God’s will?

Aiden had once told him he would like to become Amish and live with Daniel on a farm. Daniel had snickered. The world’s first gay Amish couple. Both realized that was impossible, at least officially. The idea was absurd. Like the Amish, he and Aiden lived semi-subsistent, but they would never be welcomed into a strict ultraorthodox culture. The community simply had no capability to absorb such nonconformity. Even Aiden had said he understood how accepting gay couples into the community would invariably change the Amish way of life.

Daniel mentally shrugged. What did any of it matter? Everything made less and less sense to him.

Communities, lifestyles. He only wanted to be himself, to be his own man. Hidden away in the mountains, far from the many ordnungs wrapped around the infinite competing subcultures within the United States. Sometimes he tired of it all.

The individual was the smallest minority on earth, he reflected, suddenly coming to an understanding of the passage he’d read in one of Aiden’s tattered paperbacks, scattered about the cabin.

But as he gazed over his land, speckled with snow, where he had once lived with his wife and baby, where his barn had once housed his livestock, where he had once worked in his woodshop, before an F-3 tornado had disintegrated it, he wondered if he had the stomach to leave everything behind.

He made a mental note to telephone the English farmer whom he rented his land to. Although no house stood on it, Mr. Sweeney used the land merely for extra acreage. Many English farmers owned or rented land scattered over a multicounty area to harvest larger yields. He decided he needed to speak with Mr. Sweeney about something urgent. He would call him after supper, when he was certain he’d be in for the night.

Twenty minutes later, he found himself in the town of Unity. Why he had driven that far, fifteen miles from his family’s farm, when he had no business there, he did not know. He recognized the fabric shop where Tara Hostetler had worked while they were engaged. He wondered if she still worked there. Curious, he pulled the truck into the shop’s small parking lot and went inside.

“Frehlicher Grishtdaag,” Tara said when she spotted him by the entrance, where he stood as still as a snowman.

“Merry Christmas,” Daniel mumbled, taken aback by her pleasant greeting. He’d had no idea what to expect coming into the shop, but he’d thought she might be angry with him for how he had left everything in June.

“What brings you to a fabric shop, Daniel Schrock?”

“Thought I’d stop by, was in the neighborhood and remembered you work here.”

“I’m surprised,” she said, one dark blonde eyebrow raised. “You never could remember where I worked while we were engaged.”

Shame heated Daniel’s cheeks. “I could be forgetful at times.”

“You were a distracted one, for sure,” Tara said, curling her naturally pink lips into a smile. “So, why after everything that’s happened, did you think of visiting me at work now?”

“I’d feel kinda shussly if I was in town and didn’t say hi. After all, we were engaged once, Tara.”

Tara fluttered a laugh. “We were more than engaged, Fickle Dan. We were practically kneeling before the bishop.”

Daniel flushed again, recalling when he’d broken his engagement with Tara. The stress had mounted so high he feared he may chicken out, go along with the long-awaited ceremony anyway, and never see Aiden or Montana again. He never did reveal to Aiden how perilously close he came to letting him and their dream of living together in a rustic cabin drift away, like dandelion seeds in the wind.

Once he took that fragile, terrifying step and faced Tara while they sat in his courting buggy in the driveway of her family’s farm, he realized there was no backing down. Tara merely responded to his rejecting her with “Fickle Dan.” Afterward, she climbed down from the carriage without even a glance back.

“I never did get to fully apologize,” Daniel said. “I am sorry.”

“No need to be,” she said. “In a way, I figure, I should thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“I wouldn’t want to be married to someone the rest of my life who was unsure of wanting me as his wife,” Tara said. “I figure in a way it took some courage to do what you did. Besides, I kinda saw it coming.”

Daniel lowered his head. She spoke the truth. He had always supposed she’d expected him to back out of their engagement. It had been such a long one. Near six months. So much time to mull things over. Yet he’d never predicted he would back out a mere five days before their nuptials. But he never foresaw bumping into Aiden Cermak in the middle of the Montana backcountry six months after his father had banished Aiden from the community, either.

Tara moved to a kiosk of buttons, ribbons, and zippers. She appeared to be sorting them, keeping herself busy while she spoke. “I’m courting someone new,” she said, with a hint of pride in her tone. “He’s very nice. He’s not from here, but he’s been for a visit a few times, and we write letters to each other often.”

“That’s goot, I’m glad to hear it.” Daniel had learned about Tara’s new boyfriend through one of his mother’s letters. His father had also mentioned it a few days ago. Daniel had sensed Samuel had used the information as kindling to hasten him to “patch things up” with her.