Bygones (32 page)

Beth grabbed the door handle, wrenched it violently, and threw the door open. It banged against the wall and bounced back. Beth charged through the storm door, allowing it to slam on her mother, who followed closely on her heels. Mom stood on the porch, stretching out her hand in a silent bid for her return, but Beth ignored her. She revved the engine and squealed out of the drive.

Escape. . . Escape Sommerfeld. Escape Mom
. Escape the odd longing that rose up from her breast and tried to choke her breath away.
Just. . .escape
.

The remainder of the week passed in a dizzying blur of tumultuous emotion. Marie’s elation at being welcomed back into the fellowship of believers battled with despair at Beth’s reaction; her delight at being a part of the lives of Joanna and three of her brothers warred with the pain of continued distance from Abigail, Ben, and her parents; relief at the knowledge of Beth’s innocence concerning the thefts couldn’t quite eradicate the concern that somewhere in Sommerfeld the thief still existed, casting a spirit of unease over the entire community.

She leaned against the counter and caught one black ribbon that dangled from her cap, twisting the satin strip around her finger. After only a few days, the cap felt as natural as it had in her youth.
Even the dresses—a far cry from the clothing to which she’d become accustomed since Jep’s death—offered a sense of coming home. Aware that the articles of clothing were merely exterior trappings, she still experienced a sense of security in the donning of the simple symbols of her restored faith and fellowship.

Deborah turned from the stove, wiping her hands on her apron, and gave a slight start when she spotted Marie. She shook her head, her ribbons waving, before heading into the storeroom.

Marie stifled a giggle. She’d grown accustomed to the double takes. It seemed the community was having a harder time adjusting to her cap and dress than she was.

With the exception of Henry.

Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered his reaction the first time she came around the corner from the kitchen, attired in the caped dress and mesh cap of their sect, to take his order. His eyes had grown wide, filled with tears, and then his face had broken into a smile that sent her heart winging somewhere in the clouds. His joy—so evident—had brought a sting of tears to her eyes.

He had swallowed, brushed his hands over his eyes, and said in a voice thick with emotion, “Lisbeth would be so pleased.”

Tears stung again now, remembering. Regret smacked hard. She should have returned sooner. Should have spent time with her aunt. Resolutely, she pushed the regret aside. She couldn’t change the past—she could only change the future. And from this day forward, her heart and her will would be in alignment with God. It would be her aunt’s legacy, one she would do her utmost to pass on to Beth.

Beth. . . Marie closed her eyes and prayed again for her daughter. The open rebellion pained her heart.
Father, I give her to You
, she said, repeating words that had become almost a mantra in the past few days.

The jingle of the bell that hung over the dining room entry door
captured Marie’s attention. Customers. She headed to the dining room, snatching up a handful of menus on the way.

The remainder of the day stayed busy. Saturdays always brought in the highway traffic, and Marie had little time to herself throughout the afternoon and evening. As was his custom, Henry ate his supper at the café, then stayed to tally the receipts and balance the books.

Deborah and Trina took care of the kitchen cleanup while Marie placed the orders for next week’s supplies and Henry finished the bookwork. They all completed their tasks about the same time, and as he always did, Henry offered to take Marie home. She accepted, but on this evening they spoke little. Marie pondered the odd silence and decided her reticence had to do with the change in her standing in the community.

No longer could she be considered an “outsider.” She was now an accepted part of the fellowship. Tomorrow she would attend the meetinghouse for the first time in more than twenty years as an official member. Why that seemed to impact her relationship with Henry, she couldn’t be sure. She only knew it felt different—as if a barrier had been removed. But a barrier from what?

Her heart thumped. She knew from what.

She risked a glance in his direction. The muscles along his jaw looked tense, as if he gritted his teeth. It increased the tremble in her tummy. Could Henry be thinking the same thing as she—that her acceptance in the fellowship would mean a community acceptance of their relationship moving beyond friendship?

Jerking her gaze out the window, she tried to eliminate those thoughts. Yet they niggled, increasing her discomfort as they rode silently through the star-laden evening.

When he pulled into the drive behind Marie’s car, Henry put his vehicle into park and faced her. Her heart pounded at the uncertainty reflected in his eyes.

“Do you—do you need me to drive you tomorrow?”

“No, thank you.” Marie swallowed, regret and relief bouncing back and forth and wreaking havoc in her soul. “I’ll have my car. Beth was running a slight fever this morning, so I doubt she’ll be going anywhere tomorrow.”

Concern etched his brow. “Is she all right? Do you need to take her to the hospital?”

Marie’s heart welled at his kindness. “No, I’m sure it isn’t serious. Just a cold that got out of hand. It’s that time of year.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Well, then, you take care of yourself.” The dash lights gave his face a rosy glow. At least, she blamed the color on the dash lights. “I’ll see you tomorrow, at our meetinghouse.”

She couldn’t deny the rush of pleasure that came with his words.
Our meetinghouse
. Hers now, too. She gave a quick nod. “Yes. Tomorrow. Thank you for the ride, Henry.” Hand on the door handle, she turned back and added, “And for your friendship. It’s meant a lot to me.”

His lips tipped upward, the left side climbing a fraction of an inch higher than the right. It gave him a boyish appearance that sent Marie’s heart fluttering. “You’re welcome.”

With another nod, she bounced out of the car and hurried inside. After checking on Beth and insisting she drink some more juice, she readied herself for bed. Sleep tarried, her thoughts cluttered with the odd emotions Henry had stirred.

When morning came, his face—the sweet, lopsided smile of last evening—lingered in her memory and teased her as she prepared for service.

Her hands trembled as she slipped her cap into place, and she gave herself a stern command to gain control. She would miss the point of the sermon if she spent her morning daydreaming about
Henry Braun! A quick check on Beth showed her fever had broken during the night, but she had no desire to get up, so Marie gave her a kiss and headed for the car with the promise she would come straight back after service rather than going to Joanna’s.

Her thoughts on the service, she almost didn’t stop for the brown van that crossed her path on Main Street, heading north. The driver, his black, flat-brimmed hat pulled low, glared in her direction as he rolled past. Marie lifted a hand in silent apology, and his nod acknowledged it.

Heaving a sigh of relief that she hadn’t pulled in front of him, she started to cross Main. But then something struck her, and she stared after the van. The driver had appeared to be Mennonite in his dark suit and familiar hat, yet vans were not on the list of approved vehicles. She had reviewed the list only last week, knowing she would need to trade her red car for something more conservative if she remained in Sommerfeld.

A feeling of dread wiggled down Marie’s spine. Without another thought, she made a sharp left and followed the van toward the edge of town.

K
nowing her red car would be conspicuous on the brown landscape, Marie fell back, her heart thudding with fear of being spotted. When the van turned right on the second county road outside of town, her instincts told her to go to the next intersection and double back. She craned her head as she continued north past the intersection, watching. The van increased its speed, kicking up puffs of dust that nearly swallowed the entire vehicle.

Her hands felt damp and her stomach churned with nervousness as she increased her acceleration to reach the next corner. She made a sharp right, holding her breath as her tires slid on the gravel, but she clutched the steering wheel with both hands and kept the car on the road. Looking off to her right, she spotted the swirl of dust that indicated the van’s progress.

She smiled. “Thanks, Lord, for the cloud.” Speaking aloud offered some comfort, so she continued talking to God as she drove, the van’s telltale cloud of dust pointing the route. The cloud disappeared behind the dilapidated barn of a farmstead long since abandoned and surrounded by scrub trees. If it weren’t for the bare branches of winter, the farmstead would have been hidden by the barrier of wind-shaped trees.

Marie slowed to a crawl, aware that the same dust that had notified her of the van’s progress would alert the driver to her presence. The crunch of the tires on the hard gravel road made her cringe as she let off the gas and coasted to a stop on the east side of the barn.

She found the van parked on the north side, its back doors standing open. The van’s radio blared out a rock tune, which told her in no uncertain terms the vehicle was not being driven by a Mennonite, no matter how he was attired.

She sat in her car, leaning forward to peer around the corner, her heart booming so hard she feared it might burst. As she watched, the man came into view, carrying something that appeared to be heavy by the slope of his back and his staggered steps. He pushed the item into the back of the van, brushed his hands together, then turned toward the barn again.

He came to a halt, his head jerking sharply in her direction.

Marie sank against the seat, her mouth dry. She grabbed the gearshift with a trembling hand, prepared to ram the car into D
RIVE
and speed away if needed. The man rounded the corner of the barn and came directly to her window. Her jaw dropped as he leaned forward and tapped on the glass.

Rolling down the window, Marie gasped. “Mitch!”

He had the audacity to laugh as he snatched off his hat and ran his hand over his close-cropped hair. “Surprised you recognized me in these duds. I’m as stylin’ as you, Miz Mennonite Lady.” He struck an arrogant pose, his grin wide.

Marie opened the door and stepped out. “What are you doing?”

Mitch’s grin faded, replaced by a sneer of displeasure. “Trying to load up and get out of here. I guess I should’ve waited another half hour. If you were already in that chapel, you wouldn’t have seen me.” A disparaging snort of laughter burst from his chest. “Guess I got impatient.”

He slung an arm around her shoulders and herded her around the corner. “Well, c’mon. Might as well confirm what you’re suspecting, huh?”

Marie’s feet felt leaden as she moved unwillingly alongside Mitch. When they entered the barn, she nearly collapsed. The hodgepodge of items, stashed haphazardly, provided evidence of Mitch’s illicit industry.