Love’s Journey Home (33 page)

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t set enough plates. We need two more.” Mary Elizabeth padded on bare feet
into the kitchen. “Daed, me, Isaac, Seth, Samuel, Daniel, and you, of course. You
didn’t know you would be eating with us, but even without that, we’re one short.”

“Nee, that’s not it. I…you see…” Her expression had become strained again. Gone was
that soft, motherly gaze that seemed so sure of what to do and how to do it. “I…well.”

Seth burst into the kitchen with Samuel right behind him. The room was too crowded
now. “Where’s Daniel? Isn’t he having supper? Did he say he was staying at Thomas’s
tonight?”

The boys jostled each other, jockeying for position to wash their hands.

“He didn’t say anything to me.” Gabriel looked at Helen, aware that she no longer
met his gaze. Her neck and cheeks were mottled red. “Has he come home?”

“He’s come and gone.”

“Gone? Gone where?”

“Home.”

“I don’t understand. This is home.”

“Home. Home.” Isaac broke in. “He’s gone home. To Indiana?”

Helen nodded, her gazed fixed on Gabriel’s dirty boots as if she were offended that
he’d tracked dirt into his own home.

“When?”

“Before lunch.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone.” Anger simmered and boiled up in the words. He knew she
had no fault in this, but he couldn’t help himself. “You didn’t try to stop him?”

“I couldn’t leave the girls.” Her gaze came up. Her chin lifted. “I did try to talk
him out of it.”

“But you couldn’t, so you gave up.”

She had the good grace not to remind him that Daniel wasn’t her son, but rather his.
“I couldn’t talk him out of it, so I made him a sandwich and I sent supper with him
for the trip.”

She’d taken care of him the only way she knew how. By feeding him. Gabriel’s throat
closed up. Tears welled close to the surface. He fought them back. They’d made the
long trek to Kansas together as a family. Now, Daniel had chosen to break away and
return home. Make that trek alone.

“He had no message?”

“Only that he loves all of you and Phoebe is waiting for him, so not to worry.”

Something in her tone caught at Gabriel. She’d made up the message. He was sure of
it. The fact that she sought to comfort him—even if lying were a sin—only made his
heart hurt more.

Unable to utter another word, he strode past her and out the door. He needed to put
as much space between Helen Crouch and himself as possible before he did something
untenable, like cry. Or worse, seek the comfort of her arms.

H
elen chuckled as she smoothed her hand over the material. The success of a quilting
frolic depended not only on the sewing ability of the quilters, but also on the quality
of the visiting. Emma’s stories about Eli, Rebecca, Mary, and Lillie always made her
laugh. The four of them were having fun showing the Gless children all the best places
to fish, climb trees, and collect rocks on the Brennaman farm. Emma and Thomas’s children
were as generous with their time and friendship as the adults in their home. She wished
Annie could’ve come, but having the frolic on Saturday, the busiest day at the bakery,
precluded her attending. They’d settled on Saturday so the girls could contribute
to Aenti Louise’s birthday present. Annie had already done her share of the sewing.

“What about you? How’s Edmond doing?” Emma asked as her needle flew across the alternating
rows of light and dark triangles in maroon and mauve. If she were frazzled by the
extended absence of her husband, she gave no sign of it. “Has he settled down?”

“I don’t know if I would consider it settling down.” Helen let her needle stand still
for a second, suspended in air. “It almost feels more like he’s waiting for something.
Just waiting.”

“Boys his age
are
waiting. They’re waiting to grow up.” Emma studied her stitches, then adjusted the
material in front of her. “Eli’s only thirteen and he’s itching for the day he can
stay home from school and work next to his daed in the field all day every day.”

The chattering of the other women subsided and the room grew quiet, something that
never happened at these gatherings. Emma looked around, her expression placid. “No
sense in inviting worry, is there? We will find our place in the world, and Eli will
work next to his father, whether it’s on a farm in another place or in a homegrown
business. Thomas will be home soon, and we’ll go on from there, according to God’s
plan.”

“You’re right.” Helen began stitching another triangle. “God will provide.”

“He always does,” a voice boomed from the doorway.

Thomas’s voice. Thomas had returned. He was here, in the house.

Helen’s needle stabbed her thumb. “Ouch!” She stuck it in her mouth and stood, as
did Emma and the other women. They all spoke at the same time.

“Whoa, whoa, one at a time.” Thomas held up a hand as if in self-defense, but he had
eyes only for his fraa. Helen forced herself to look beyond him, over his shoulder,
toward the door. To her surprise, Gabriel stood behind his cousin, a grin stretched
across his rugged face. Their gazes met. His head dipped in a fractional nod that
a second later she wasn’t sure if she hadn’t imagined.

He made his way through the throng that surrounded Thomas and approached her with
a certain trepidation apparent in his expression. “Helen.”

“They’ve returned,” she said unnecessarily. “What are you doing here?”

Helen wanted the question back the instant it left her mouth. Not only did it sound
rude, but it was none of her business. This house didn’t belong to her. Gabriel could
visit his good friends anytime he liked.

Still, he took pity on her, it seemed. “I happened upon the van on the road as I drove
to make a delivery. A plow we’d repaired.”

“It’s so good to see them back. Did you speak to my brothers?”

“Jah.” Gabriel studied the group crowded around Thomas. “They went on home, as did
the others. They all seem very glad to be back.”

“Did they say anything? Anything about what they saw? What they’ll tell the bishop?”

Gabriel’s gaze hadn’t left her face, but he didn’t seem to hear her questions. His
eyes were dark, almost opaque, and she couldn’t read his expression. He glanced toward
the others, then back at her. “Come outside.”

“What?”

He jerked his head toward the door. “Come outside. Please.”

He strode away. Nonplussed, but curious, Helen considered the tilting in her stomach
that threatened to bring up her breakfast.
He’s just a man. Just a man
.

A man who made her want to pull her hair—or his—out by the roots and hold tight to
his hand all at the same time.

She squeezed past Emma, who was grilling Thomas on whether he’d gotten enough to eat
on the trip, insisting he looked thinner than he had ten days ago. Thomas denied it,
but then allowed that he’d missed her mashed potatoes and chicken fried steak something
fierce.

Helen followed Gabriel out the back door. A picnic table stood empty near several
long rows of clothesline. They were also empty except for dozens of clothes pins awaiting
their weekly burdens. A brilliantly colored robin sat on the line, chirping until
he was joined by his more subdued mate, a mousy brownish-red bird. Helen knew how
she felt.

She pressed her damp hands together and waited.

“Could you sit?” Gabriel pointed toward the bench. “I’m tired.”

She sat, giving him leave to do the same. “What is this about? Did Thomas say something?
Are they leaving for sure? Did they find property in Missouri?”

He lifted his straw hat and resettled it. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry. For what? What’s going to happen?”

“This is not about the trip. Thomas and Tobias and the others will bring that information
to the bishop first. He will decide when to tell the rest of us.” He spread his huge
hands, palm down on the picnic table and began to rub them against the rough, sun-weathered
wood. “I’m sorry for being so…my oldest daughter calls it being so daed.”

Helen felt a laugh burble up in her. “So you?”

“Jah.” He didn’t smile. “They don’t say anything, but I can tell my children think
I wasn’t very kind to you after you took care of the girls. You cleaned up after them
and cooked for us and then I was ungracious.”

“You were upset.”

“And I took it out on you.”

On impulse, Helen placed her hands on the table, palms down. Her fingers didn’t touch
his, but they were close. She watched him as he stared at the four hands. He looked
tired and not a little discouraged. Why? A new business took time to get off the ground.
It took time to become part of a new community. “What’s wrong, Gabriel?”

His jaw worked. His right hand inched forward until the tip of his index finger touched
her. She felt that touch down to her toes. “Gabriel?”

He cocked his head and lifted his gaze. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“You’re sure that’s all you wanted to say?”
Say it, please say it. Say something. Please
. “There wasn’t something more?”

“The girls thought it would be nice if we tried again. You could come to supper tonight.”

“The girls thought?”

“Abigail especially. She took it hard, the way I treated you. She scolded me right
good. Reminded me of…” He stopped. “Anyway, I’d be grateful if you could see your
way to forgive me and come to dinner. You could bring your children.”

That was indeed a peace offering. Helen could imagine what it cost him to set aside
the notion that her son was not a good influence for his children. She wanted to say
yes, but she was still stuck on the sentence he hadn’t finished.
Reminded me of
…of his late wife.

“Are you sure you’re wanting to do this?”

“Wanting to do what?” The gravel in his voice deepened. “Invite you to supper? It’s
only right, considering how you helped me.”

“And that’s all it is? A thank-you?”

This time all five fingers on his right hand inched forward. They slid over hers and
wrapped themselves around her wrist. He met her gaze head-on. “It’s what I’m able
to do right now.”

Mesmerized by his gaze, she didn’t try to escape his grip. “I can’t live in someone
else’s shadow.”

“I don’t expect you to do that.” His grip slackened and his hand withdrew. “I’m just
trying to find my way.”

“Me too.”

“I know.”

The second his hand left her wrist she felt doubly alone. She wanted his hand back.
In order to get it she would have to take it on faith that he would find his way into
the sunshine where the only shadows that fell were his and hers. She would go and
he would catch up.

“I’d be happy to accept your invitation to supper.”

G
abriel inhaled the aroma of frying pork chops. His mouth watered, but his stomach
did a strange see-saw like the lapping of the water in the pond when a strong wind
hurled itself against it. He gritted his teeth.
Stop being an idiot. She’s a woman. Just a woman
. He glanced around the kitchen. Abigail and Mary Beth had everything under control,
it seemed. Mounds of mashed potatoes, gravy, pork chops, creamed corn, beets, hot
rolls, watermelon, a lemon pie. A decent meal for family and friends. Too bad Isaac
had gone out after finishing his chores. Gabriel would’ve liked to have his oldest
son as an ally in making conversation, never his own strong point. With Daniel back
in Indiana, that left Samuel, Seth, and the girls. They’d be more interested in talking
to the Crouch children, leaving him to fend for himself with Helen.

Just friends.

“Shoo, shoo!” Abigail made a flapping motion with her apron. “Go on.”

“Are you talking to me?” Gabriel frowned, not bothering to keep the irritated surprise
from his voice. “Do you think you should speak to your daed that way?”

“You’ve been mooning around the kitchen and the front room for at least half an hour
now.” Her tone sounded equally tart. Her cheeks were rosy and she kept looking toward
the battery-operated clock on the wall. “We know how to cook. We won’t embarrass you.
You should wash up. They’ll be here any minute.”

“I never thought you would embarrass me, and I know what time it is.” Gabriel studied
his oldest daughter. She looked flustered. “It’s just the Crouches. Friends. Why are
you in such a state? Is this about Edmond? You know how I feel…”

“I’m not in a state and it’s not about Edmond.” Without looking at him, she began
lifting the pork chops from the skillet and laying them on a platter. “You’re in a
state.”

“Nee.”

She turned and they glared at each other. Gabriel won the match. “I expect you to
keep your distance from Edmond. You may be on your rumspringa, but I still know what’s
best for you. And he is not it.”

“How can you know that? He only…he only listens to me.”