Love Redeemed (35 page)

Out of breath, her stomach heaving, she sank onto an empty bench by the playground. Only a few children played on its slides, towers, and turrets. A little girl with blond hair in long pigtails skipped across the shredded rubber fill around the playscape, a teddy bear in her arms. She sang the ABC song at the top of her lungs, urging the bear to join in every now and then. Phoebe tried to look away from her shiny, happy face. She couldn't. The girl's chubby cheeks and carefree smile mesmerized her.

God, will this ever be over? Will I ever feel happy again? Do I have a right to be happy? Michael is happy. He's washing dishes and he's happy. What's wrong with me? Please, God, give me another chance to be happy.

How could she be happy without Michael in her life? She'd tried so hard to convince herself that she could. She could be good and content and be a teacher, lead a good life. But one second of seeing Michael with another girl and she was right back where she'd started.

The road in front of her stood empty and silent and she couldn't fathom where it led. Should she go left or right? Stay the course? No one could give her a map or point to street signs to show her the way.

“Phoebe.”

Her heart jerked and banged against her rib cage. She closed her eyes, willing him to go away. She breathed in and out.

“Phoebe.”

She opened her eyes.

“I can't believe you're here. I've had dreams about you coming here and now you're here.”

“I can't believe it either.”

“Do your parents know?”

“Jah. They asked Luke and Thomas for permission. I don't sneak around anymore. I've learned from my mistakes.”

“My mistakes, you mean.”

“I don't blame you for what happened.” Not much. Not anymore.

“Jah, you do.”

She wiggled in the seat, wishing she'd never come, wishing she could jump into a buggy and be gone. The image of a horse and buggy on the clogged streets of Springfield almost made her smile. Almost. “Where's Daniel?”

“I left him talking to Sophie.”

The girl in the blue flowered dress had a name. Sophie. “So she's your new friend.”

“She's a friend.”

“Didn't take long.”

Michael sat down on the bench. She slid farther away. “It's not like that.”

She sideswiped him with a glance. He still had those same blue eyes, the same dimples, the same face, yet he looked so different in blue jeans and a T-shirt with the diner's name on the front. He still wore the cap and tufts of his hair stuck out around the bottom. He looked Englisch, and yet she could still see the Plain man she loved in those bottomless blue eyes. She gritted her teeth and looked away. “What is it like then?”

“Her dad has a ministry to help runaways.”

“You're a runaway?”

“Nee. I'm a grown man who came here to start over. But sometimes he helps Plain kids and Sophie thought I might need some help.”

“Helps them how?”

“Helps them find a way to go home.”

“Is he going to help you go home?”

“Nee. I don't need his help.” Michael used a fingernail to scrape dried food—ketchup maybe—from his jeans. “He's been a friend. Like Sophie's a friend.”

“A special friend?”

“Why do you care? You didn't want anything to do with me after what happened.”

Not true. Not true at all. “I was baptized.”

“Daniel told me in his last letter.”

“You need to come back. You need to be baptized too.” She drew a shuddering breath and tried to calm her roiling stomach. If he came back, she'd have to face him at prayer services and she'd run into him in town. She'd have to face her mistake over and over again. “You can't let what happened come between you and God.”

“But it can come between you and me.”

“You have Sophie.”

“I don't.”

Phoebe stood. “Your parents and your brothers and sisters—all the families in New Hope want you to come home. They're worried for you. They're praying for you.”

“And you?”

“I need to go home.”

She began to retrace her steps to the diner. Michael kept pace, but he didn't speak, for which she was grateful. Everything had been said.

When they stood at the diner door, he caught her elbow and made her turn to face him. “Come inside. Get something to eat. The food is good. Meet Sophie. You'll like her. She actually reminds me of you.” He stopped and his face turned a deep shade of red akin to roses in the spring. “Come inside.”

“Nee. I did what I came to do. Tell Daniel to come outside. Please.” She turned her back and pretended to watch the cars that raced by. “Please.”

“I tried to call you.”

Her heart picked up speed, slamming against her ribs again and again in a painful thud that increased in speed and intensity until she thought she would pass out.
Stop it. Stop it. Be good. Be good. Be good.

“Phoebe.” His voice was closer now. She looked up to find him bearing down on her, his face close to hers. She could smell his familiar woodsy scent and see the tiny scar on his chin where he'd jumped off the swings in the fourth grade and landed on his face. “I tried to call you and you didn't answer.”

“I buried the phone.”

“When?”

“Right after Lydia died.”

“You wanted a fresh start.”

“I want to be good.”

“You are good.”

“Nee.”

“I will come home, Phoebe, if you want me to.”

Phoebe made herself look at him. “You have to come home because you want to do it. Not because of me.”

He stared at her, his eyes mesmerizing. Finally, he nodded. “I understand.”

Phoebe was glad he understood, because she certainly didn't.

“Where are you?”

Startled, Michael looked up from the mop he pushed across the floor in a steady, wet
slap, slap
. Someone had spilled syrup and let it dry, making his job that much harder at the end of a day that couldn't end soon enough. Oscar had gone to run an errand, but he would be back later to check to make sure everything in his restaurant was spotless. “What?”

“You're a thousand miles away.” Crystal snapped her gum and applied elbow grease to some equally dry mustard on one of the tables. She grinned. “On a deserted island with Miss Sophie, eh?”

“Nee. No.”

“Does it have something to do with the Amish girl who showed up here earlier today?”

He pushed the mop harder, focusing on the back and forth, back
and forth motion. He didn't mind hard work, but he hated cleaning. It only turned up dirty again the next day. The monotony tore at him.

“Giving me the silent treatment, huh?” Crystal tossed the dishrag into a sink behind the counter and picked up a bottle of cleanser. “Come on, you're looking at a twenty-two-year-old woman with two kids. I've been married twice, divorced twice. No one knows more about love than I do.”

“You're twenty-two, you've been divorced twice. What you meant to say is no one knows less about love than you do.”

“Ouch. Harsh.” She blew a bubble that popped all over her lips, laughed, and began to pick it off. “Maybe I've learned from my mistakes.”

Learned from her mistakes. That's what Phoebe was trying to do. The unending good in her wanted to do the right thing. Wanted to say all the right things. She wanted him to come home because she didn't want his eternal salvation on her conscience. Well, it wasn't. He'd led her down the path to temptation. Not vice versa. He understood that now. No one was to blame except him.

“You look so sad.”

He glanced up. Crystal stood on the edge of the wet floor, her white sneakers not quite touching what he'd mopped. She knew better. She tilted her head. “Come on, spill the beans. How bad can it be?”

Seeing Phoebe again had brought it all back. The day at the lake. The look on her face after the funeral. The guilt. The rejection. The emptiness. He couldn't help himself. He wanted it out of his head.

By the time he finished the story, Crystal had tears in her eyes.

“You have to go home. Now.”

“I can't.”

“She's right.” Sophie strolled through the diner. He'd been so intent on his story and Crystal's reaction, he hadn't heard her come in. “You have to go home.”

“I thought we agreed you shouldn't be riding that scooter around after dark.”

“Leo brought me in his car.”

She'd been so anxious to talk to him, she'd been willing to owe her
big brother a favor. “Fine. You know Crystal. Sit.” He was tired of mopping and cleaning. He was tired of washing dishes. He hadn't known how tired until today. “I'll get us some iced tea.”

She sat. “We're in agreement here. You have to go home.”

“I'm done in here. I'll finish up in the kitchen.” Crystal flashed her usual grin and laid a wad of bills on the table. “Your tips. Add them to your kitty and buy a bus ticket. Don't worry about Oscar. He can get another dishwasher in about five seconds.”

“Why does everyone get to tell me what to do?” He set the glasses on the table and plopped down across from Sophie. “I moved to the city to be my own boss.”

“You moved to the city to run away from your problems.” Sophie waved to Crystal as she pushed through the kitchen door and disappeared. “You're a coward.”

“I am not.” Anger roared through him. Their friendship didn't give her the right to call him such a thing. “I didn't run away. I started over.”

“You ran away. Phoebe needed you and you left her in the lurch after you got her in trouble.”

The words hurt. It surprised him that he was able to feel any more hurt. It surprised him that Sophie would want to inflict that kind of hurt. “You don't know anything.” His voice sounded rough, hoarse, in his own ears. “You don't know her. You weren't there.”

“I'm your friend.” Sophie spread her long, thin fingers on the table and studied them as if looking for an answer there. “That's why I'm telling you the truth. I'm telling you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear. Go home. Get back to your life before it's too late. That girl Phoebe is pretty and sweet and smart and another guy will come along and snatch her up once she gets over you.”

“She's not interested in me anymore.”

“She came all the way to town on a bus to tell you to come home. Does that sound like a girl who's over you?”

“She's worried about my eternal salvation.”

“So am I. Again, that's why I want you to go home and live happily ever after.”

“Plain folks don't live happily ever after.”

“They come as close as anyone in this world because they choose to be content with what God gives them. Go. Be content.”

“You really want to get rid of me that bad?”

Her smile disappeared. “I learned how to do this from my dad. He's the best.”

A slight tremble in her voice gave her away. Michael pushed his advantage. “You really want me to go?”

“I've learned not to get attached to the runaways.” Her gaze dropped to the table and her fingers began to draw circles in the condensation on her tea glass. “To care, but not to get so attached I can't see what's best for them.”

“I'm not a runaway. So you don't care if I go?”

“I care. If you stay much longer, I won't be able to hold out.” Her gaze came up. Her blue eyes were troubled. “I'll start to care and then you'll break my heart
and
Phoebe's heart. Tell me you don't want to go two-for-two?”

That he had the ability to do such a thing confounded him. He sought the words to answer, but his thoughts scattered in all directions, like trees tossed into the sky by a tornado.

Trying to buy time, he dumped toothpicks from the jar and began stacking them in two separate, neat piles. Sophie ran a finger through them so they mixed together, his pattern gone. “Go home.”

The lump in his throat surprised him. “It almost sounds like you're telling me to stay.”

“I'm not.” But her face said differently. Her face said she really wanted him to stay. “Go.”

“I'm sorry.” The realization struck him with the force of a hammer. He didn't know if he was ready to go home, but he couldn't stay here. She was right. He had to go before he made it worse. “I didn't mean for this to happen.”

“You didn't do anything.”

He examined the painful fluttering in his chest. It came from the realization that he was about to hurt her. “I wish I felt what you feel.”

“You can't. I've always known that. Your heart is already taken.”

“Timothy likes you.” He made the words an offering. “Did you know that?”

“I do.”

“But you don't care for him?”

“Maybe someday. With time.”

If Michael stepped back. “Me not being around would help.”