Love Redeemed (3 page)

“Why? What did Thomas tell you?”

Daed's thick gray eyebrows hunched like caterpillars and his forehead wrinkled. “Thomas hasn't said anything. I have eyes in my head. I can see for myself.”

“I haven't missed a class.”

“What your daed means to say is we want to make sure you're…” Mudder didn't sound as sure of herself as Daed did. She seemed torn. “That you understand how important these classes are. How important it is to be baptized. To marry. And then to start a family.”

What other way would there be? “I do understand. It's the only way I know.”

“Sometimes, when a person reaches your age, it's hard to see the order of things in the midst of all the…feelings.” Daed's red face turned redder. He picked up the tea glass and set it down again. “What I saw in the yard today—that's not the order of things. You know better. I'm certain you were taught better.”

“We weren't doing anything. We only wanted to talk.”

“You hung around in the yard to talk to a young man instead of getting yourself inside to hear the sermon. I won't abide by that kind of behavior.”

“Michael had a question.”

“So he said, but I've sat in on my share of those classes. Michael knows the answers to the questions. I'm not sure you do. That makes me wonder why he'd claim to ask you for the answers.”

“How are your studies for baptism coming?” Mudder's softer tone took some of the tension from the air that hummed in Phoebe's ears. Mudder could be fair, even when Daed took a hard line for no apparent reason. “Are you keeping up?”

Keeping up with the eighteen articles of the Dordrecht. In German. She'd been a decent student in school, but this religious quagmire made little sense to her. Nor did much of what Thomas had said today. “It's hard to understand.”

“I know, but you'll get it.” Mudder smoothed a hand over the stained wood of the table. “It's hard for all of us. You don't have to understand every bit of it.”

Could she be baptized into a faith she didn't understand? Phoebe wanted to argue, but thought better of it. After all, her puny little brain couldn't hope to understand something as big as Gott.

“In the meantime, I think you should stay here when we go to the lake.” Daed crossed his arms over his chest, his face all angles like the limestone cut from hillsides along the highway. “Someone needs to keep an eye on the house and feed the livestock.”

“Nee!” Phoebe touched her fingers to her lips, trying to stifle the cry. It wouldn't do to argue with her daed. A daughter didn't do that. But to not go on the trip, their first since moving from Kansas to Missouri…He couldn't be that heartless. Not Daed. “I mean, I thought
Onkel
Elijah and
Aenti
Bethel were planning to take care of things here since she's too…”

Too near the time for the baby to come. Especially for a woman who used crutches to get around. Elijah and Bethel had chosen to marry in January instead of waiting until November. Given the few chores to do in the dead of winter, it made perfect sense to Phoebe. Snow made it hard for some folks to get to the wedding, but the two hadn't wanted to wait for the traditional season at Thanksgiving.

“They have, but another pair of hands won't hurt, especially with Bethel needing help now.”

She was thankful he looked over her shoulder at the window when he spoke of her aunt's condition. No girl wanted to talk with her father about these things. “I need to go to Stockton to help Mudder with the cooking and cleaning and watching the babies. Otherwise it won't be a proper vacation for her.”

“Nice of you to think of your mudder, but I'm sure you're thinking of yourself and
your
vacation too.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his gaze unflinching.

“Jah, I think of myself. It's been a long, hard year for all of us, getting used to being away from Bliss Creek and living in a new place. I thought we would have a vacation as a family. Isn't that what it's supposed to be? A family vacation?”

Daed dropped into the chair next to Mudder. Finally. Phoebe's neck hurt from looking up at him. His gaze never left her face. She felt as if she were an ant under the magnifying glass her brother Elam liked to carry around to look at rocks and bits of wood he found. “It's my job to make sure everyone in this family follows the Ordnung.”

“I'm following—”

“Schweschder! Aren't you going to tuck me in?” Lydia trotted into the room in her nightgown, her blonde hair half out of the braid that hung down her back, her chubby, dimpled face perturbed. “Hannah can't hear my prayers like you do.”

“That's not true!” Puffing, Hannah scurried into the room, her kapp askew, face red. “I'm sorry, Daed. She got away from me. She ran down the stairs and almost took a tumble trying to outrun me.”

Lydia's cheeks creased in a grin. She climbed into Daed's lap. “A story before bed, Daed.”

“You're four years old now. Old enough to know better. When Hannah tells you to get in bed, you get in bed. As if it were Mudder or me or Phoebe.” Daed gripped the little girl's arms and deposited her back on her bare feet. Despite his rough words, he ruffled her hair with blunt, callused fingers. “Another willful daughter. How did I end up with a house full of them?”

“I'm not willful.” Hannah sounded hurt. “I do everything Mudder tells me to do. I'm not like—”

“Where's Sarah?” Mudder put both hands on Lydia's shoulders and steered the girl toward Hannah. “Now that she's crawling, you mustn't leave her alone unless you put her in the crib. She'll take that tumble down the stairs you were worrying about with this one.”

“I know. She's happy as a kitten in her crib and half asleep already.” Hannah shook a finger at Lydia, looking like a shorter, equally plump replica of Mudder. “Not like this one. Running all over the place.”

Only twelve years old, Hannah was already better at taking care of kinner than Phoebe. Sometimes it seemed as if Mudder liked Hannah best. Phoebe couldn't help but see the way Mudder looked at her—perplexed, as if she'd found a baby giraffe among her litter of kittens. The thought hurt Phoebe's heart for a second, but then Lydia wiggled free of Mudder's grip and threw herself at Phoebe. “Come to bed with me, schweschder. It's bedtime. Daed said.”

By
schweschder
, she didn't mean Hannah. An unkind thought. Phoebe squashed it. This wasn't a popularity contest and Hannah did much of the work without complaint when Phoebe slipped away on her rumspringa adventures. Hannah never said a word when Phoebe came into the bedroom late, smelling of tavern or bonfire or worse yet, the beer the Englisch boys tried to get her to drink. She didn't like the way it tasted. She couldn't even stomach the way it smelled.

No adventures tonight. Tonight she would be a good big schweschder. Time to settle down and concentrate on her baptism lessons. Phoebe grabbed Lydia's warm, sticky hand. She didn't seem the least bit fazed by Daed's words. At four years old, she already knew what they all knew. Daed might be stern, but he loved his kinner. “I'll take her. Come on, Hannah.”

Looking relieved, Hannah trotted toward the door. Trying not to think of the trip to Stockton Lake that she wouldn't be taking and all the fun she'd miss—all the possibilities of time with Michael she'd miss—Phoebe followed.

“Phoebe.”

She paused in the doorway and looked back. Daed smoothed his beard, his blue eyes hard as marbles. “You think you're grown-up now. With growing up comes responsibility. And the decision to join the
church and follow the Ordnung.” He crossed his arms over his muscled chest. “You have to choose. But you're right about the trip being a family vacation. You will go, but I expect you to think about what I've said tonight. And the commitment you'll make when you're baptized. Whenever you choose to do it.”

Phoebe squeezed Lydia's hand hard. The girl squealed in protest and Phoebe loosened her grip. “I promise I'll cook and clean and watch the kinner so Mudder can enjoy the time too.”

“See that you do.” His smile was slow in coming. “Behave at the singing tonight.”

“I will.”

She marched toward the stairs, Lydia in tow. She would prove to him she could be trusted. She'd finally outgrown her rumspringa. Time to be an adult.

“Phoebe? Phoebe!” Lydia tugged free and planted her bare feet on the wooden floor.

“What? What's the matter?”

“I don't want to go to bed yet. It's still light.”

“That's so we can see our way up the stairs. The days are longer in the summer, but we still have to go to bed early so we can get up early.”

“Are you going to bed now?”

“Nee.”

“Why?”

“You, little one, ask too many questions. Little girls should be seen and not heard.”

As if she'd ever paid attention to that rule. Daed said bees were silent compared to her constant buzzing. She crooked a finger at her little sister. “Go. Now.”

Her lower lip protruding, Lydia stomped up the stairs, her feet making a
slap, slap
on the wood. Phoebe glanced out the window at the foot of the stairs. Buggies pulled in outside the barn. She paused for a second, one hand on the banister, and then forged ahead.

She would do the right thing. She would go to the singing and then march herself up the path to the house at a decent hour. No hanging around hoping Michael would approach and ask to take her for a ride
in his buggy. She couldn't chance it. If Daed decided she hadn't lived up to her end of their agreement, she wouldn't be allowed to go Stockton Lake. She had a much better chance of having a conversation with Michael there.

Patience was a virtue. One she intended to cultivate even though it seemed to go against the very grain of her character.

Chapter 3

M
ichael led the horse to the hitching post outside the Christners' barn, all the while keeping a lookout for Phoebe. In all likelihood she'd already gone inside. Still, he didn't want to miss her if she were walking across the long stretch of gravel road that led from her house to the barn. He liked to watch the way she sauntered along, arms swinging, head high, her gaze lifted as if searching for something just beyond the horizon. She didn't walk like a girl. She walked with an assurance that made him want to fall in step next to her and find out what she studied so intently in the clouds. Heat crept up his neck at the thought. Not that he would do it. He wasn't that forward. But he could watch for her and help her carry something if she needed it. In the gathering dusk, he couldn't see much of anything beyond the corral fence, but he would know if she approached. His heart would do that
zing-zing
thing it did and he would know.

“What are you doing standing out here? The singing is inside.” Daniel hopped from a two-seater. “You are going inside, aren't you?”

Michael and Daniel had been close friends since they were old enough to catch tadpoles in the pond, but they didn't always see eye to eye. They were about as alike as an apple and a turnip. Daniel jumped feet-first into the fire without considering the consequences. Michael thought on the consequences long and hard. Doing right was
better than doing first. “Nice two-seater. I like the upholstery and the headrests.”

“Hiram is letting me use it while he goes to Bliss Creek for a visit.” Daniel tied the reins to a hitching post close to the hay stanchions. “It's a surprise for Rachel. I bet Jacob would give you his, now that he's married. He doesn't need it anymore.”

Michael made sure his horse had enough tether to feed on the hay and started toward the barn door. “He sold it. Needed the money for the new house.”

“That's okay. You'll never need a two-seater if you don't actually ask a girl to take a ride with you.”

“Courting is private.”

“Only if you're actually courting.”

Michael shrugged off the irritation his friend's insistence always caused him. He didn't have Daniel's easygoing nature. He wasn't good at talking to girls—or anyone for that matter. He didn't see much need for chatter, which made this whole courting thing painful. It had become apparent to him early on that conversation would be required. The girls liked that. He'd tried a time or two and that was enough. He'd rather get a tooth pulled or dig eighty postholes or clean the chicken coop or…The list of things he'd rather do was as long as his leg. And he was well over six feet tall.

“Hey, here comes Phoebe. Here's your chance.”

Daniel slapped him on the back and disappeared through the door. Michael whirled, nearly tripping over his big feet. It was too late for him to leave without her thinking it was odd. Walking at a good clip, Phoebe was already close enough for him to see her face in the light of the kerosene lantern she carried. She wore that dark green dress that made her blue eyes bluer and her white skin whiter. At a distance she looked like a little girl, so slight was her figure. He could probably heft her over his head with one hand and sling her over his shoulder, given the need. Say there was a sudden tornado and he had to rush her to the cellar for her own safety. He stifled a smile at the thought and stowed away in his mind the image of her headlong dash toward him, along with all the others he'd collected over the years.

She glowed in the lantern's soft light as it bobbed up and down, up and down. She glowed with something he couldn't put a name to. High spirits or love of life or simple happiness. He found that glow touching. He wanted to protect it.

“Michael. Hello.”

Her high voice had a slight quiver to it. It didn't have the usual happy ring it did when she chattered with the other girls about sewing frolics and canning and baking and such. They had their own foreign language. Or so it seemed to him. He turned toward his horse and checked the tether. It was fine, just as it had been a minute or two before. “Hey, Phoebe.”