Love’s Journey Home (21 page)

“Would it…I mean…could I…would it be all right if I held her, for a minute or two?”

In all the times Isaac had stopped into the bakery to pick up Mary Beth—why he felt
it necessary to come in rather than waiting in the buggy, Annie didn’t know—he’d never
hesitated about anything. He seemed to think he knew everything there was to know
about this world. He forecast rain. He suggested what kinds of cookies she should
or shouldn’t make. He recommended a new kind of soap for cleaning the floor. He had
an opinion about everything under the sun. What was it about a tiny, sleepy baby that
made him stutter and cast about for words?

“Of course.”

“I’ll try not to break her.” A sudden grin stretching across his tanned face, he leaned
down, then stopped. “What’s the matter? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Why?”

“You look like you’ve been…well, crying.”

“It’s allergies. I’ve a bit of an allergy with dust and hay,” she spoke hastily. She
did have allergies. She’d never lie about such a thing. “It’s worse in the summer.”

Without acknowledging her explanation, Isaac took the baby from her arms and held
her against his broad chest. He studied Lilah’s face, then finally looked back at
Annie. “They’re so little, aren’t they? You forget how small they start out.”

“True, you do.”

“I remember when Rachel was born.” His gaze lurched away from hers. “She was a puny
one, even smaller than this little sweet pea. Mudder called her the runt of the litter.”

“Would you like to sit down?” Annie stood and moved away from the rocking chair. “You
could rock her for a minute, if you like.”

“You’d better take her.” He shook his head and held out the bundle gingerly. “I’m
such a big oaf, I might drop her or something.”

“You’re not going to break her.” He handled the baby bundle as if he’d done it many
times. That wasn’t the problem. “Sit. I’ll stay right here in case you lose your nerve.”

The sadness in his face dissipated. “Gless men never lose their nerve.” He smiled.
Annie smiled back, at ease for the first time. Despite the rough edges, he had a soft
center. “We muddle through, no matter what.”

“I don’t know what the problem is. You actually look like you know what you’re doing.”

“After Mudder died…” He stretched out his long legs and gazed out the living room
windows, flooded with evening sun. “The girls had their aunts, it’s true, but they
needed their father. Daed was…he spent a lot of time in the fields. As a man should.
He’s not a talker, not much for touching, either. The younger ones were sort of lost.”

“You stepped in.”

“I helped some.” His smooth cheeks ruddy, Isaac tucked Lilah’s blanket around her
with a practiced hand. “Some might not think it a man’s place.”

“Nee, you did what was needed.” A knot formed in Annie’s throat as she contemplated
the role Isaac had been forced to take. He’d been willing to do it. A lesser man might
have folded. Even his father bent, although none would fault him for it. He hadn’t
broken. “Some would think you were brave.”

He made a sound somewhere between a snort and a growl, but didn’t say anything for
a few seconds. He rocked faster, the toes of his boots beating a rhythmic pattern
against the braided throw rug under his feet. Unsure what to say or how to offer comfort
if it was comfort that was needed, Annie waited in silence.

“I know we’re supposed to accept death and move on,” he said into the silence finally.
The rocker creaked in protest under his solid frame. “Holding little Rachel made me
feel…”

“Closer to your mudder.”

“Jah.”

“I know how that is. I lost my mudder and daed too.”

“So you’re muddling through like me.”

“Like most people.”

“Do you believe everything happens for a reason?” He set the rocker moving faster.
“Even bad things?”

Annie thought of David and the pain that etched his thin, pale face at the end. She
thought of his bald head, his cold fingers that gripped hers with surprising strength,
even at the end. She thought of the way his hand fell away, finally, as he took his
last breath. She thought of how alone she’d felt in that moment when his absence became
a permanent void in her life. The same horrible, stubborn rebellion welled inside
her that always came when she allowed herself to dwell on those memories for even
a fleeting second. He had gone on ahead. He had left behind a broken world. They were
only passing through. She knew all that. It didn’t help. It took all her strength
to beat back her rebellion, like an unbroken stallion that refused to be captured
in a corral. She breathed.
God, forgive me
.

“Don’t you believe it?” To her surprise, her voice didn’t waver. Her tone didn’t give
her away. “Don’t all Plain folks believe in God’s plan?”

“What could God’s plan be in taking the mother of a baby? The mother of eight kinner
who weren’t ready to be on their own without her?” An anger so like Annie’s engulfed
his words. He hadn’t learned, even after three years, to corral the stallion. The
thought gave Annie no comfort. How could she learn, if this man couldn’t? “Nothing
is the same anymore. Our family isn’t the same.”

His voice a hoarse whisper, he gazed at her, his pain swirling across his face. He
looked so different from David. Tanned, healthy, his eyes a lighter, almost almond
color, his shaggy brown hair hanging below his hat. He glowed with health and life,
yet pain sought to douse that glow. “You lost your mudder and daed. How long did it
take to bow down and accept it?”

“I didn’t bow down. I kept putting one foot in front of the other.” She’d moved forward,
one step at a time, because life demanded it. She did the same with the loss of David.
It took time. Time would heal the wound. Only time. “Every day, it got a little easier
to bear. Our family changed too. But we’re still a family. Families can change shape.”

Suddenly light-headed, she eased into the chair across from him. The distance between
them was far enough for propriety, but not so far that comfort couldn’t be had. Something
about his face and his voice, something about the way he held that newborn baby in
his arms told her she could talk to him. “I lost my husband last year.”

“I know.”

He didn’t offer empty words or condolences. She appreciated that. “David was a wise
man, considering how young he was. He said we needed to take the time God gave us
and use it to the best of our abilities. To step out in faith that He knows what He’s
doing. David said he wanted to spend whatever time we had together.” She brushed at
a stain on her apron, then forced herself to look at Isaac. He needed to know things
would get better. It would get better, for both of them. “It turned out to be much
shorter than either of us wanted. But it’s all the more precious because it was so
short.”

“You wouldn’t have chosen not to marry him if you knew how it would turn out?”

“Never. Never. That’s the whole point of faith. You don’t know how it’s going to turn
out.” She tried to swallow the familiar, aching lump in her throat. It refused to
go. “We had something. We had each other. And now there’s Noah, my son. David’s son.”

“Jah, there’s that.” Isaac looked down at the sleeping baby, then back at her. “Who
could regret this?”

“Just like your father doesn’t regret marrying your mother.” Annie didn’t know that
for a fact, but she saw the way Gabriel looked at his children. The same way Annie
looked at Noah. With heartfelt gratitude and a sense of awe at the blessings they’d
been given. “We have to be thankful for what we have and who we have in our lives
and not demand to know why we can’t have more.”

His full lips turned up in a faint smile. “I’m trying.”

“Your sister says you have a broken heart.” Any other time Annie wouldn’t have dared
to raise the subject—or any other of such a personal nature—but something about this
quiet moment shared only by the two of them made it possible for her to say the words.
“Is that true?”

“Mary Elizabeth is a blabbermouth.”

“No. She loves you. I knew that from the first day she worked with me.”

“She’s my sister.” Lilah hiccupped a small cry. Isaac had forgotten to rock. He began
again. The baby quieted. “It’s not much of a stretch to say she loves me.”

“She defended you. Not all sisters would.” Annie saw that he hadn’t answered her question.
She let it go, as she would’ve wanted him to do for her. She wore her broken heart
on her sleeve, but not everyone—especially men—chose to do so. “She said you were
pushy because you wanted to help her have her dreams. I thought that was nice of her
and of you.”

“Did I need defending?”

“You were a little pushy.”

“Me? Pushy?” He smiled, a sad, forlorn smile, but still, a smile. “Annie Plank, if
I shine a flashlight in your window some night, will you do me the honor of taking
a buggy ride with me?”

Annie froze. Had he heard nothing of what she’d said? She had loved David with every
muscle and every bone in her body. “I…” She closed her mouth. Swallowed. “I don’t…”

“Didn’t you say you had to step out in faith?”

“I didn’t mean…”

“You didn’t mean with me.”

“We’ve only met.”

“Yet I’ve talked more to you in the last few minutes than I have to anyone the entire
time I’ve been in Bliss Creek.” Something in his voice forced her to meet his gaze.
The smile was gone, replaced by an expression so mesmerizing she couldn’t look away.
“Come out with me, Annie Plank. Have a little faith…in me.”

Much to Annie’s relief, Lilah picked that moment to open her eyes and wail. At least,
Annie thought it was relief.