Love Still Stands (13 page)

Bethel leaned against the counter and plunged her hands into the dish tub as Leah
added more hot water from the stove. “I’ll wash if you want to dry.”

“That’s fine.” Leah’s voice was tight. She set the pot on the stove with more force
than necessary. “I’ll bring in the dishes from the table.”

“Leah, wait.” Thinking of Thomas’s words earlier in the day, Bethel grabbed a towel
and dried her hands. She faced her sister. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. It bothers me that you would tell Luke things before you tell me, your
sister, but other than that, I’m fine.” Leah twisted a dish towel between hands that
looked chapped and red. “Why?”

“Nothing bad happened today. A man talked to me in a way that was unexpected. Nothing
came of it. I don’t want to talk about that. I want to talk about you. You seem unhappy.”
More than usual, Bethel wanted to add, but didn’t. Doctor Karen seemed to think talking
about things helped heal hurts. Maybe Leah had a hurt that needed to heal. “Is it
being away from home?”

Leah’s lips quivered. She swallowed. Her hand went to her cheeks and brushed away
a tear. To Bethel’s horror, she realized her older sister, who had raised her younger
brothers and sisters through Mudder’s two bouts with cancer, was crying. “What is
it? Tell me, please.”

“I can’t. I don’t know what it is.”

“You don’t know?”

“Since Jebediah was born, I’ve felt…” She eased into a chair, her face lined with
guilt. What could this woman, who worked hard morning, noon, and night, have to feel
guilty about? “Having babies was all I’ve ever wanted. Now, since Jeb, I’m so tired.
And it sounds ridiculous…I’m sad. So sad I don’t want to get up in the morning. I
don’t want to feed him. I don’t want to change his diaper. How can I tell anyone that?
I can’t tell Luke. He’d think I’ve lost my mind. I have lost my mind. I shouldn’t
even be telling you.”

She drew a deep breath and sank back in the chair, shoulders bowed, head down, as
if this pouring out of words had emptied her. Her hands tied the towel into knots.
After a second, her expression fearful, she looked up at Bethel as if waiting for
her to pass judgment. Bethel didn’t know what to say. Her sister was born to be a
mother. Leah’s lips twisted. “Say it. I’m a terrible mother, a terrible fraa. Aren’t
I?”

“Nee! You’re a good mudder.”

“Then why do I feel this way? I always bounced back after every baby, even the twins.”

“When the twins were born, Emma and Annie helped you. Now you have five children under
the age of ten and me for help. Me with my crutches.”

“All the women in our community have several small children. That’s the way we want
it. That’s the way it’s meant to be.” Her voice dropped to a painful whisper. “What’s
wrong with me?”

“You’ve moved to a new place. Doctor Karen says moving is stressful.”

“Stressful?”

Not a word in their vocabulary. Bethel scrambled to explain. “It makes you tired,
not just physically tired, but in your mind.”

“I want to lay my head on the table right now and go to sleep.”

It wasn’t only the words that broke Bethel’s heart, but the look on her sister’s face.
She looked lost and scared and confused, like a woman who’d opened her eyes from a
long sleep and found herself in a foreign land. Scared and confused were two things
Bethel had never associated with her sister. Leah had always borne the brunt of that
burden and she’d never complained. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been more help to you.”

“You do what you can.”

To have her sister acknowledge that meant a great deal to Bethel. “It will be more,
when I get better.”

“It has to be more.” Tears trickled down Leah’s face. “I don’t mean to burden you,
but it has to be more. I can’t do this by myself.”

“I understand.”

“You don’t.”

“I’ll work harder. I’ll get better, I promise.”

“I’m expecting again.”

The words struck Bethel with the force of a shovel slammed against her chest. Another
baby. A blessing. God rained blessings down on her sister and Luke. She chased away
fleeting envy. “Does Luke know?”

“I haven’t told him.”

“Why?”

“Because he will be so happy, and I can’t let him see the truth in my face.”

“What truth?”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Leah wiped her face with the knotted towel. “I can’t
bear the thought.”

“It’ll be all right. We’ll get through it together.” She grabbed her crutches and
hopped closer. “Let’s write to Mattie. She would love to come for a visit. You know
she would. Together she and I can give you a chance to rest. You’ll feel good as new.”

“Mattie has her own family. You should be having your own life too. It’s selfish of
me to ask for your help when there’s a man…” She stopped and dropped the mangled towel
on the prep table. “I should get the dishes before all the food hardens on them. Makes
more work for you.”

“What do you mean, a man?”

“Open your eyes, schweschder.” All the anxiety and sadness and fear drained from her
face, leaving a mask. “You have a chance for a life of your own.”

Wishful thinking on Leah’s part. Bethel refused to be sidetracked. “You have to tell
Luke.”

“Nee.”

“Why?”

“When he married me, he expected me to be his fraa.” She sounded so defeated. “To
have his children and care for them. That’s my job.”

“He’ll understand.”

“I don’t even understand.”

“Go to a doctor.” She thought of Doctor Karen’s kindness. “Doctors can help.”

“And tell them what? I find after having five children that I’m a terrible mother?”

“You’re not.”

“Elijah didn’t get dessert.”

It took Bethel a second to realize Leah had changed the subject again. “What?”

“Take Elijah one of the cinnamon rolls I made yesterday. They’re still fresh.” Leah
waved her hand at the dish tub, her tone back to the usual no-nonsense bossiness that
had been her hallmark as long as Bethel could remember. “The dishes will be here when
you get back. They need to soak, anyway.”

The Leah she knew would never let the chores go, even for a few minutes. “What are
you doing?” asked Bethel.

“Just because I’m miserable doesn’t mean I want you to be.” Her voice trembled, but
her gaze didn’t waver. “I want you to be happy.”

If lightning had struck Bethel at that moment, she wouldn’t have been more surprised.
“Please talk to a doctor. Talk to someone.”

“I talked to you. Now go.”

A wave of inadequacy rolled over Bethel. “At least tell Luke about the new baby. It’ll
help.”

“Cut the cinnamon roll.”

Leah disappeared through the door.

Bethel stared at the spot where her sister had stood. The weight of Leah’s words pinned
her against the counter. Another baby. Somehow, she had to help Leah get through this.
Her sister needed to know she could depend on Bethel. And Bethel needed to get better.
Fast. Which meant trips to town. It meant spending time with Elijah. She went to the
table and cut a huge cinnamon roll from the pan and put it on a saucer. A peace offering.

At the screen door, she held her breath and peered out. He hadn’t gone yet. “Wait!”
She pushed against the screen door with her shoulder. The cinnamon roll slid across
the plate and teetered on the edge. Her crutch caught on the threshold. She started
to go down, caught herself, and the door swung away. She breathed a silent prayer
of thanks. “Elijah, wait.”

He looked up from the horse he was untying from the new hitching post in front of
the house. His expression didn’t look inviting. In fact, he looked as if he might
leap on to the horse and flee.

“Wait, you didn’t get dessert. Have a cinnamon roll before you go.”

His hand on the horse’s long mane, he still didn’t look convinced.

“Leah made them yesterday. They’re almost as good as Annie’s and Annie runs a bakery.”

Slowly, he moved to retie the reins to the post. His stride toward the porch bordered
on laborious. She held the plate out.

His warm fingers touched hers when he took the saucer from her hand. “I suppose it
can’t hurt.”

“Can you sit for a moment?”

“It’s getting late. It’ll be dark soon.” He took a big bite of the sweet pastry, flakes
of icing catching at the corners of his mouth. She stifled the urge to wipe them away.
For a minute he looked like William and Joseph, eyes rolled back in pure delight.
“We have to be off to town early in the morning.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” She sank into the hickory rocking chair
positioned behind Leah’s favorite blue and green piece rug. “I wanted to say I’m sorry
for being so grumpy today.”

“Grumpy.” He eased into the chair next to her. “I don’t think grumpy is the word.
Strong headed. Stubborn. Mulish.”

“You can stop now.” His comical expression made her laugh for the first time all day.
“I’m not that bad.”

“It was an uncomfortable situation for both of us. I handled it badly.” He wiped his
hand on his pants and held it out. “Forgive and forget. Friends?”

She could use a friend. The weight of Leah’s confession made her shoulders ache. To
her surprise, sudden tears welled up. She blinked them away and grasped his hand in
a quick shake. “Friends.”

“I don’t plan to let that man bother you.”

“You don’t understand.” She wished she had her basket of sewing. It soothed her to
keep her fingers busy. “You say you want to be my friend. Then you have to realize
something.”

The saucer in his hand remained suspended in the air. “What?”

“The man’s name is Shawn McCormack.”

“I know. I remember.”

“All the girls who were my friends when I was growing up are married now.” Would he
understand what she was saying? His expression said no. “They’re married. All my sisters
and brothers are married. I’m the only single one. No husband, no kinner.”

“So you think this Shawn, this
Englischer
, is somehow going to change that?”

“Nee! He wants to be my friend.” She pointed to her legs, hidden by her long skirt.
She raised her head to meet his gaze. “He understands about this. I need a friend
who understands.”

Elijah stared out at the lengthening shadows cast by the house. The sun dropped behind
a cloud on the horizon and the world darkened. Finally, his gaze came back to her.
“
I
understand. The cinnamon roll was good.”

He set the plate on the table, stood, and stomped across the porch, his boots thudding
on the wood. At the bottom of the steps he turned, his head haloed as the sun drifted
out from behind the clouds. “I figure you never stopped to think I might understand
too.”

“I don’t—”

“I’m not just your driver.” He swung onto the horse with the ease of long practice
and sat tall and straight in the saddle. “See you in the morning.”

Bethel sat there a long time, watching as the horse’s gentle trot became an easy canter
and then a full-fledged gallop. Regardless of what Elijah had said, he seemed to be
doing a good job of putting as much distance between them as possible as quickly as
possible.

Chapter 13

E
lijah urged Ned forward. He’d waited too long to leave the Shirack farm. Dusk gathered
quickly and it was past his bedtime. He shouldn’t be angry with Bethel’s declaration
that she needed friends who understood her situation, but he couldn’t help it. She’d
chosen this soldier she’d met once to be a friend over a Plain man standing right
in front of her. A man she’d known since childhood. He would have to accept that.
He didn’t want to be the one to take care of her, anyway. He’d had enough of that.
Hadn’t he? He heaved a sigh and tried to relax into the saddle. The familiar rise
and fall of the horse under him soothed his physical tension, but his determination
did nothing to fill the empty void in his chest. He had willingly taken care of his
parents while others chose their fraas and married. Now his parents were gone and
he lived with his brother, watching Silas’s family grow and helping him start a new
farm and a new life. Elijah had a good life. A blessed life.

Gott, if it’s Your will that I remain alone, so be it. I accept Your will for me.
But if it’s not, Lord, help me find the right woman to be my fraa. Set her directly
in my path because I seem to be too dense to know her when I see her
.

On the highway overhead lights popped on, startling him from his prayers. At least
the highway would be well lighted. The dark dirt road that led to his brother’s house
once he left the highway would be another story. Despite every attempt to let it go,
he continued to mull over his conversation with Bethel. The woman made no sense to
him whatsoever. He snapped the reins.
Let it go. Let it be. What will happen, will happen
. The horse picked up his pace as if he too longed for his stall and a night’s rest.
“Let’s go home, Ned. We’ll both feel better at the other end of a good night’s sleep.”