Love Redeemed (38 page)

The questions pummeled him. He felt like a punching bag for question marks.

The hardest-hitting question smacked him between the eyes. Could he live with the constant reminders of what he'd done here?

“Michael?” Thomas's grin had faded. “Something you want to tell me?”

“Nee. I just need time to think.”

“Don't worry. I'm not asking for a commitment now.” Thomas smoothed his beard, his expression somber. “You and I need to do some talking first. And then you need to do some thinking.”

“That's all I do it seems. Think. I'm sick of thinking.”

Thomas chuckled and swung his legs over the bench so he could stand. “If it makes your head hurt, that's a good sign your brain's working. You'll figure it out. Just don't give up.” He grinned down at Michael. “You came home for a reason. Don't lose sight of what it was—or who it was.”

What did Thomas know? Everything, it seemed. “I won't.”

“Gut.”
Thomas tipped his hat and ambled away. “Be at my house Monday night after chores,” he tossed the words over his shoulder. “Don't be late. I'm getting old. I go to bed early.”

“Right.” He would go home and help his daed with chores and learn to live with what he'd done.

The bleak thought made him roll up from his seat. First order of business was to figure out how to get Phoebe back. He'd returned for her. It had been a mistake to leave her. It wasn't his first and it wouldn't be his last. Richard would have to understand.

He'd taken the first step by returning home. He wasn't a coward. He'd come home to be baptized, to be with his family and his community. He'd come home for Phoebe.

After everything that had been lost through their mistakes, he wouldn't allow their future to be lost too.

Chapter 36

T
he temperatures had done that sudden autumn drop that always surprised people and reminded them that winter stood on the horizon, waiting impatiently to make an appearance. Phoebe leaned against the porch railing, her shawl wrapped over her shoulders, wishing she had her wool bonnet. The kinner, full of wedding feast for the second day in a row, were running off the excess energy with an exuberant game of kickball. Eli belted the ball over his sister's head and it sailed into a piercing sky so blue it hurt to look up. He whooped and lit out for first base. Phoebe clapped. “Good one!”

Grumbling, Rebecca chased the ball out to the corral while her brother zoomed around the makeshift bases that consisted of old floor rugs destined for secondhand use of some sort in the barn. Eli made it to third before Rebecca could toss the ball to Elam, who stood between second and third.

“We need a new pitcher,” Lillie called from first base. “Come on, Phoebe, be the pitcher.”

“Hey, I'm not doing so bad,” William pouted. “I can't help it Eli has such big feet he can't miss.”

Everyone whooped and hollered at William's teasing. Phoebe shook her head, but she moved from the porch to the steps, squeezing past her brothers who sat on the steps discussing the price of hay or some such thing that ought to be left for a work day, not the day of Daniel and
Rachel's wedding. Determined to see joy in this day, Phoebe smiled down at them. Today's service had been easier than that of the previous day. Practice made perfect? No, she saw the joy in her friend's face and could only feel joy in return. Daniel and Rachel were in love and this was their special day. “This is a day of celebration.” She thunked Simon on his hat with her thumb and middle finger. He ducked. “Leave the talk of work for tomorrow.”

Simon tugged at her skirt and smiled up at her. “I could say the same to you. Go play. Everyone knows you're the best kickball player around.”

She had been pretty good once. She hesitated. She had vowed to set aside childish play.

“Go on,” Martin chimed in. “Enjoy the day.”

It meant so much to her that her brothers had gone back to treating her like the old Phoebe, the sister they liked to tease, the sister who hadn't yet disappointed them. They were two branches from the same sturdy tree. Broad shoulders, blond hair, blue eyes. Simple men content with their simple lives. Encouraged by their grins, she shrugged off the shawl, laid it on the railing, and trotted into the yard.

“Hand it over!” She crooked a finger at William. “Let me give it a shot.”

Her first roll of the ball was dead center on the plate. Helen's daughter Betty whacked it a good one, but it came right back at Phoebe. She scampered forward, scooped up the ball, and slung it to Lillie at first base. “You're out of here! That's three outs.”

The team behind her cheered and ran off the makeshift field.

“You're up first.” Mary and Lillie, so alike in features she couldn't tell them apart, grabbed her hands and propelled her to home plate. “You first, teacher.”

They'd been the first to call her that. Teacher. Monday would be her first day. A short week because of the Thanksgiving holiday on Thursday, but enough to get her feet wet. She shoved the thought aside. Today was for visiting and celebrating the union of her good friends.

She focused on Nathan's throw. The ball came right at her. She swung her foot out and met the ball square-on.

“Go, go, go!” Lillie and Mary screamed from the sideline. “Go, teacher, go!”

The rest of the kinner jumped up and down and yelled encouragement. She lifted her skirt and ran toward first base ahead of the throw from Jonathan at second base. Laughing, breathless, she careened around the corner and then backed up, foot squarely on the rug that marked the base. “I made it!”

“You made it.”

That voice. She'd been avoiding it all day. She glanced back. Michael stood in the shade of the oak near the corner of the house. He stepped into the sun. His black pants, suspenders, and blue shirt were back. In honor of the wedding service, he wore his black jacket and black hat. He looked as Plain as ever. They both knew he wasn't. He couldn't be, not after his time away.

It didn't matter. Today was Daniel and Rachel's day. A day to celebrate.

“You should be with Daniel. You're his second.”

She kept one foot on the rug, waiting for Nathan to throw the ball to Mary, who had both hands in fists at her sides, sneakers at the ready, a look of fierce determination on her freckled face. The twins were the spitting image of their sister Emma. And just as sweet and fun.

“He's fine.”

She had been glad Rachel had chosen Molly to be her second. It saved her from standing in front of their community only a few feet from Michael. “This is one of the most important days of his life.”

A day she'd once hoped they would also enjoy together.

“I needed a breath of fresh air. They're still going strong inside. The singing has started.”

“Michael, play with us!” Eli shouted from behind home plate. “We need another player.”

“No more big people,” Lillie argued. “They kick too hard.”

“Nee, no more.” Elam stood behind home plate, arms crossed, no longer smiling. “We've got enough players.”

“That's okay.” Michael's gaze stayed on Phoebe. Her chest tightened at the sight of those dark blue eyes, so somber. The light once there had
been extinguished. No more dimples, either. He looked older. “I'm more in the mood for can jam.”

“We couldn't find the Frisbee.” Eli's grin said he didn't mind. “Besides, all the trash cans are being used for the wedding.”

Michael shrugged. “I have to get back inside to the
eck
, anyway. As Phoebe has said, I can't shirk my duties as Daniel's second on a day like today.”

So why had he come out here? He should be sitting at the corner table with the wedding party. Had he been looking for her? Phoebe didn't dare ask.
Be good. Be good.
She was a teacher now. All grown up.
Be good. Be good.

Nathan rolled the ball to Mary. She kicked wildly, missed, and sat down hard on her behind. The kinner roared. “It's not funny.” She scrambled to her feet, rubbing her backside. “Give me another.”

“That's strike one,” Nathan yelled. “Here comes another.”

“Richard paid me a visit last night.” Michael took a step closer to first base. He kept his voice low. Phoebe had to strain to hear over the chatter on the field. “He said I shouldn't worry about what I saw yesterday. Is he right?”

Richard had gone to speak with Michael. Why in the world would he do that? Richard shouldn't have stuck his nose where it didn't belong. She crept off the base as Nathan wound up and tossed the ball. Lillie missed again. Phoebe rushed back to her base. This was no place for this conversation. Betty Crouch, the first baseman, had curiosity written all over her face. She would surely report everything to her mudder Helen.

“Go away, Michael.”

“Richard meant well. He wanted me to know that he laid no claim.”

Laid no claim. The sheer audacity of such a conversation bowled her over. She forgot about the game and the big ears on little girls. “He never even shone his flashlight in my window. He has no right to even—”

“Sometimes, it's not what you think.”

Richard meant well. He'd let her go with grace. “He has no claim on me.” The words came out louder than she intended. Betty scooted
closer to the base, eying them both with obvious interest. Phoebe forced the volume down. “No one does. Now go away.”

“Because I came back you've decided to stop seeing him?” He sounded mad. He had no right to be mad. She hadn't been courting with Richard, but even if she had, Michael had no claim on her. Not since he rushed off to Springfield and started hanging around a girl called Sophie.

“I'm not interested in more problems.” She dusted her hands on her apron and prepared to dash to second base.
Be good. Be good.
“Please go inside. Now.”

Simon and Martin stood. Even after five years of marriage for Simon and three for Martin, they seemed to move as a unit. Elam strode from the field and joined them. “You're back.” The three of them stopped within a few yards of Michael. “We heard you'd turned Englisch.”

“You heard wrong.” Michael took a step back and leaned against the tree. His tone was calm but firm. Still, tension radiated in the set of his shoulders and the grip of his hand on his knee on the leg he propped against the trunk. “I came back to finish my classes, get on with my baptism.”

“Your parents must be real happy about that.” Simon chewed on a long blade of grass. “They've got some mighty fine cake in there. You might want to get some before it's all gone.”

Michael straightened. His gaze brushed against Phoebe's. “I was just leaving.” He made a wide berth around her brothers. “See you, Phoebe.”

What could she say to that? Mary connected with Nathan's next pitch and the ball rocketed across the yard. It smacked Michael in the back of the head, saving Phoebe from having to answer.

“Ouch. Hey!”

Mary hopped up and down and then took off for first base. “Sorry, Michael, sorry!” she yelled, but didn't slow. The others clapped and hooted. Especially Elam, who looked tickled. “Wahoo!”

Phoebe couldn't help it. She giggled and raced toward second. Michael whirled and scooped up the ball. His face had turned red, but he grinned. “I'll get you, Mary Shirack. My throwing arm is rusty, but I still got it.”

He loped across the yard, the ball in hand. Mary shrieked and headed for second. Phoebe raced for third. Michael's throw went wide, but Naomi raced forward to snag it and tag Mary, who made the mistake of taking her foot off the rug as if to try for third right as Phoebe headed for home plate.

“Gotcha! You're out, Mary.” Naomi whirled and hurled the ball to home plate, giggling all the while. “Thanks, Michael!”

“I told you I still got it.” His gaze collided with Phoebe's. He looked so wistful. “Some things, anyway.”

“Play with us, Michael, come on!” Eli and Rebecca joined in the chorus with Lillie, Mary, Joseph, and William. “Come on. It'll be fun.”

Michael glanced at Phoebe's brothers, who still stood side by side on the edge of the field as if they were watching the game. Their gazes were riveted to Michael. “I'd better get back.”

Once again, he strode toward the house. This time, he didn't turn around. She considered hitting him with a ball herself, but the look on Simon's face as he walked around their makeshift field and made his way to home plate kept her glued to her spot.

“Mudder and Daed have been through enough.” Simon twirled the blade of grass between two fingers. “You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Gut.”

“I'm grown up now. I'm a teacher.”

“Gut.”

He didn't sound as if he believed her.

That didn't surprise Phoebe. She hardly believed it herself. It was all she could do to keep from dashing up the steps and into the house to find Michael.

Gott, forgive me.

Despite the pretty girl named Sophie, despite everything, she still loved him.

It didn't matter. Sometimes, love wasn't enough to fix things. If anyone knew that, she did.

Chapter 37

H
is bow heavy in his hands, Michael slowed and then stopped, not wanting his boots to make a crunching sound on the frosty crust of the snow. His daed and Silas did the same. The puffs of their breath hung suspended in the icy morning air and then dissipated. They hadn't even made it to the tree stand his daed built the previous week when they picked up the hoof prints in the freshly fallen snow—the first of the season. A regal buck, its antlers broad and heavy, stood on the edge of a small clearing, his nose close to the ground as if sniffing for leaves or grass under the blanket of snow. Michael caught his daed's slight nod in his peripheral vision. The need for silence kept him from deferring to the older men for the first shot.
Smell and sound, a hunter's biggest enemies.
The familiar refrain echoed in his memory from all the years his daed had taken him hunting as a boy. Daed even took a bath the night before, something that never ceased to amaze Michael. Tobias Daugherty hated bathing with a passion.