Love Still Stands (42 page)

Elijah inhaled the cold air and let the frigid north wind blow away the heat of the
barn and his embarrassment every time he thought of his actions. What had possessed
him to kiss Bethel? He’d never thought of himself as a man who let himself get carried
away by his emotions. He smacked a log against the wall with more force than necessary
to remove the snow and slapped it in the hollow of his arm.
Gott, forgive me
. He scooped up a half dozen more pieces of wood. Bethel aggravated him until he couldn’t
think straight. That’s what happened.

Nee. He couldn’t blame his actions on her. She didn’t deserve that. He turned and
bent his head against the wind and tromped across the porch.

“What’s the matter with you?” Silas swept snow from the porch with a vigorous motion
that served to shove the piles under the railing and onto the ground with great efficiency.
“You’ve been a grouse ever since you returned home. Katie’s thinking about dosing
you with some medicine. Thinks you’re coming down with the flu or something.”

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

“It doesn’t matter how tired you are; you always have a story to tell the kinner when
you come home at the end of the day. You always play a game with them or help them
with something. Tonight you barely opened your mouth.”

Elijah avoided his brother’s gaze. He saw too much. He was more than an older brother
now; he was a minister. A leader of the community. A wise man. Elijah bit his chapped
lower lip and considered. “I did something I shouldn’t have done.”

Silas’s bushy eyebrows leapt up. He leaned the broom against the wall and opened the
door for Elijah. Elijah stomped snow from his boots and eased past his brother. Once
inside, he dumped the wood into the box next to the fireplace. He turned to his brother,
waiting.

Taking his sweet time, Silas tugged off one boot and then the other on the rug by
the door. He set them in a neat row next to a dozen others in varying sizes. All black,
all well used. Finally he straightened. “Are you going to tell me what you did?”

“Nee. It involves someone else. It’s of a private nature.”

“Ah.”

“Don’t
ah
me.”

“Did you break a rule of the Ordnung?” His stern tone said he expected a simple, straightforward
answer.

Elijah considered. He hadn’t thought of it in quite that light, more concerned for
Bethel’s reaction. “It didn’t go that far.”

“But you were afraid it might.”

“Nee. I would never. Nor would…” He let his voice trail away, not wanting to reveal
more. It was a private matter, when it was all said and done.

Silas grinned as he hung his coat on the hook and went to stand in front of the fire.
“A word of advice from an old married man?”

“I’ll take anything I can get.”

“Stop making it so hard.”

“What?”

“Trust the way you feel and do it right and proper.”

“What if I make a mistake?”

“I’ve watched you grow up, little bruder.” Silas stretched his hands toward the fire.
The flames illuminated the wrinkles just starting to form around his eyes and mouth.
He looked a lot like the daed Elijah remembered from his younger years, before age
and ill health took his vigor. “You’re a good man with a good head on your shoulders.
You spent years taking care of Mudder and Daed. Somehow in the course of that, you
lost your faith in your ability to do anything else. Let nature take its course and
get on with your life.”

“That’s not true. I know I can do this. It’s what I want. It’s all I think about.”

“Then ask her.”

“You don’t know—”

“It’s written all over your face every time you look at her and think she isn’t looking
at you.”

“She’s not sure she wants it.”

“You’re afraid she’ll say no?”

“Jah.”

“She won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve seen the way she looks at you when she thinks you’re not looking at
her.”

Elijah snorted, but somehow he felt a little less cranky. He added wood to the fire
and picked up the poker to rearrange the logs.

“I’m subdividing the land. I’m giving you the seventy-five acres north of the creek.”

Elijah froze at the words, so unexpected. He felt rather than saw his brother move
to stand behind him. He stared at the flames, leaping and dancing as if for the joy
of the Lord. He couldn’t have spoken if his life depended on it.

“You’re welcome,” Silas chuckled, that deep rumble in his chest that again reminded
Elijah of Daed. “In the spring, we can start building your house up on that knoll
that overlooks the river.”

“I’m…I don’t…Silas, what about your boys? I—”

“I’ll work that out with them when the time comes. What you did for our parents…You
gave them comfort and care for the last days of their lives. You’re a good man. Any
woman with a brain would be happy to have you.”

Elijah managed a nod.

“So ask her.”

Again, all he could do was nod.

Silas laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Enough of this talking. I need a cup
of kaffi to take the chill off these old bones. How about you?”

Elijah managed to stumble after Silas to the kitchen. If he ever got his tongue under
control, he’d thank him. And then he’d do as he was told.

Ask her
.

Chapter 38

L
uke watched as the boys played checkers on the rug in front of the fireplace. Their
faces were red from laughing over some silliness Eli had told them. He sprawled on
the sofa, egging them on from afar. Neither of Luke’s boys had asked about their mudder
since yesterday before their prayers on Christmas morning. Visiting with Emma and
Thomas and their kinner on the second day of Christmas had been good medicine for
the quiet stillness of their own home on this holiday. A blessing. He stretched his
boots toward the fire and closed his eyes for a second, hoping he could forget the
empty chairs at the table. The absences.

“Did you eat too much, bruder?”

He lifted one eyelid to see Emma plop down in the rocking chair next to him. She had
a sleeping baby on her shoulder. From the looks of her, it seemed possible another
one was on the way. She hadn’t said and he wouldn’t ask.

“If it’s a nap you want, feel free to use Eli’s room. He’s going hunting with the
Daugherty boys and Silas in a few minutes. Thomas is conked out in our room.”

“Nee, I’m fine. Just resting my eyes.”

“I’m sorry Leah’s not here to celebrate with us.”

Leave it to his sister to get right to the heart of the matter. “Are you really?”

“That’s an unkind thing to say.” She continued to rub the baby’s back with a gentle
hand, but she frowned. “Our families are meant to be together when we celebrate the
birth of Jesus.”

“You never liked her.”

“I can’t lie. She makes it hard.” Emma began to rock. The chair creaked on the wooden
floor, a sing-song noise. It reminded him of their mudder and the hours she’d spent
rocking their twin sisters, born years after Mark, two little surprises. “But I’ve
been thinking it’s likely it’s not her fault.”

Luke knew as much as anyone how difficult Leah could be. He also knew how loyal she
was, how dutiful, how loving a mother she was. Had been. Always. “What do you mean?”

“Do you remember how Catherine acted after Mudder and Daed died?”

“How could I forget? That business with Melvin and the wedding and all the tears and
silliness.”

“Not silliness.” Her tone was dry and stern. For a second, Luke heard their Aenti
Louise in her voice. “She had a sickness. A sickness of the mind. The doctor told
us as much. You didn’t believe it then and you still don’t believe it now, despite
everything that happened.”

“No, not really.” He didn’t like excuses for bad behavior. Their parents’ deaths had
been hard for them all, but God chose to take them. They went home that day after
their buggy collided with a truck on a wet stretch of highway. “The rest of us got
through it fine.”

“We weren’t fine. Not really. But we managed to get through it. Each person is different.”

“I know. Some are stronger than others.”

“Sickness of the mind is not a weakness anymore than sickness of the body.” Her tone
turned soft, soothing, as if directed at the baby in her arms. “It’s arrogance on
our part to think otherwise.”

“Arrogance on my part you mean.” He simply wanted a quiet, peaceful day of visiting.
“Who are you to judge?”

“You are my brother whom I love.” She smiled for the first time. “I know we don’t
go around saying such things, but there are days, like today, when I am so thankful
for what I have and for my family members, I can’t contain myself. I’m sorry if it
makes you uncomfortable.”

Luke shifted in his chair. He gripped his hands in his lap, wishing he had a piece
of wood to carve or a
Budget
to read. Wishing this conversation would end. He stood. “I need some air.”

“Our minds can play tricks on us. Make us think terrible things. There are sicknesses
that we can’t control.” She glanced at the boys. They were arguing over a move, oblivious
to the adult conversation going on around them. “From what I understand, sometimes
the cause is physical and medicine is needed to fix it. To fix the person’s mind.”

His legs weak beneath him, he sat. “What are you saying?”

“Medicine helped Catherine. She stopped being depressed. She became herself.”

“She became an Englischer.”

“I know. I don’t understand that either, but she stopped crying. She stopped being
so sad. She stopped wanting to die.”

“She wanted to die?”

“Jah. She was so sad she wanted to die.”

The agony of his frustration burned through him so fiercely, he feared he wouldn’t
be able to swallow the lump in his throat. It would suffocate him and he would fall
at his sister’s feet. “I don’t understand.” The words were a hoarse whisper in a voice
he didn’t recognize as his own. “Wasn’t that enough? Weren’t the deaths of Daed and
Mudder enough? Now this?”

How dare he question God’s plan aloud? He couldn’t help himself. He raised his head
and met his sister’s gaze. “Haven’t we suffered enough?”

She rose and laid the baby in the playpen in the corner. When she returned she sat
next to him on the couch instead of the chair. “Do you remember Deacon Altman’s sermon
about the thorn in Paul’s side?”

“I didn’t sleep through his sermon, whatever you might think.”

She chuckled, the sympathy in her face enough to undo him. He looked away.

“Three times he asked God to take it away. But God said His grace was sufficient.”

“For His power is made perfect in weakness.”

She nodded. “You
were
listening.”

“You sound so much like Aenti Louise.” He swallowed. That lump just kept coming back.
He cleared his throat. “She was a wise woman.”

“Bethel told me the same thing not long ago. It’s strange—or maybe not so strange—that
we find the wisdom of a particular scripture applied so often in our daily lives.
We only have to pay attention.” Emma relaxed against the chair, her expression serene.
“Stop being so proud and go bring your fraa home.”

His entire body stiffened. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“Were you really listening to what God said to Paul? Leah is afflicted and you’re
her husband. She needs you.” Her somber gaze pierced him. “Do you love your fraa?”

“That’s personal.” She was sounding more and more like Aenti Louise. Maybe it wasn’t
such a compliment. He didn’t like it. Not one bit. “Not your business.”

“You’re my bruder. It hurts me to see you in pain.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t let pride keep you from doing what you need to do.”

“And what is that?”

“You need to bring your fraa home.”

“I can’t make her come home.”

“Tell her you’ll take her to see a doctor. You’ll take her yourself. You’ll get her
help.”

“I can’t—”

“Do you want to spend the New Year the way you’re spending Christmas?”

The lump in his throat had grown to the size of an overripe watermelon. When he was
sure he could get the word out, he opened his mouth. “Nee.”

“Then go. I’ll help Bethel. We’ll keep an eye on your boys. Go bring your fraa home.”

He stood. Unable to speak, he nodded. She nodded back. “Happy Christmas, Luke.”

It would be when he had his family back together again. “Happy Christmas.”

Chapter 39

L
uke leaned into the van window and waved goodbye to the driver. He wasn’t Michael,
but he was a pleasant enough fellow who didn’t expect a lot of conversation. Luke
appreciated that. He’d spent most of the drive from New Hope to Bliss Creek alternating
between prayer and the rehearsal of his speech in his head. He turned and faced Mattie
and Abel Kurtz’s neat, white, two-story house. The bitterly cold air burned his throat.
His breath came in white puffs. Smoke wafted from a chimney and the familiar smell
of wood burning calmed him. He went up the steps and stamped his feet to clear the
snow clinging to his boots. Before he could knock, the door opened. Leah’s sister
Mattie smiled up at him.