The Forgiven (8 page)

True enough. He supposed that sort of thing really was more of a two-person operation. “Maybe your daad could do that part of entertaining the guests.”

She shook her head. “Daad has so much to do already, running my farm along with his own. And I don't think he'd like it much anyway.”

From what he remembered of Rebecca's father, he was a typical taciturn Amish farmer of the older generation. No, he probably wouldn't enjoy trying to teach an Englischer how to milk a cow.

“What about Simon, then? It seems he's over here working most of the time, and I imagine he's comfortable around the Englisch.” He had an inward smile at the thought of Simon hearing Matt recommend him for the job.

“Simon?” Rebecca's eyebrows lifted. “I never thought—Well, maybe he could, at that. I'm so used to thinking of him as my little brother that I didn't even consider him.”

“Simon seems pretty well grown to me.” Matt trusted it wouldn't occur to her to ask how he knew.

“Even if Simon could handle it . . .” She paused, the struggle obvious in her expression. “It wouldn't be easy to do this without Paul.”

“No.” He discovered that he hurt for her. “No, it wouldn't.”

He bit back the urge to offer advice. Hadn't she said she needed to handle things on her own? She wasn't finding it easy. He reached for the right words and hoped he'd found them.

“You've grown into a strong woman, Rebecca. Whatever you decide, I think you can find a way to make it work.”

She blinked, as if surprised. “Denke, Matthew.” She smiled, and it seemed to Matt that her smile traveled right to his heart.

•   •   •

Rebecca
walked toward the barn after supper, snuggling her jacket around her. The weather might feel like summer in the middle of the day, but once the sun slipped over the ridge, the air was still chilly. Still, the threat of frost was past, according to Daadi. He had his own method of predicting the weather, and mostly he was right.

Katie had said that Onkel Simon was still in the barn, working on something, though Daad had gone home. This would be a fine opportunity for Rebecca to speak with him about helping her with guests without anyone else around. She wouldn't want him to say yes just because Daadi thought it was his duty.

Asking Simon had been a sensible suggestion of Matt's. She had a tendency to see Simon as the little brother she had to look out for instead of the young man he was. Maybe that was only natural, but she should give him credit for the man's work he did.

Simon could certainly do what had to be done with the guests, and he would probably enjoy it. After all, he had many Englisch friends and seemed much more comfortable around the Englisch than she was. It was odd that Matt, coming on the scene after so many years away, should be the one to see Simon as an adult.

Rebecca's thoughts flickered to the passages she'd read in Anna's diary last night. She'd been trying to stay awake an extra fifteen minutes each night to do some reading, especially since she suspected Grossmammi would be asking what she thought of Anna's story.

Anna and her family had lived in a time so frightening it was difficult to imagine, but even so, her relationship with her younger brother was familiar enough to make Rebecca smile. Maybe the fact was that families didn't change, no matter how much the world around them did.

Matt hadn't offered an opinion on the wisdom of her plan. Most people were quite free with their advice on other people's business.

Maybe he'd been embarrassed, not expecting her to confide in him. But that didn't make sense, since he was the one who'd seen that she was worrying about something.

Funny, how that forgotten memory of the older girls talking about Matt had popped back into her head. She could see them now, clustered in a corner of the schoolroom, giggling and glancing at the boys as they came in.

Rebecca's reminiscent smile faded as she neared the barn. She'd told Matt that she wanted to stand on her own feet. It was true, but it was also a rather lonely business.

The barn door stood open, and Rebecca stepped inside, pausing for a moment. Simon was trying to hold a flashlight under his arm while he repaired a loose ring on one of the stanchions.

“Looks like you need another pair of hands.” She reached him in a few steps and took the flashlight, focusing its beam on the screw he was tightening.

“That will do it,” he said, not taking his gaze from his work. “I should have lit the lantern, but I thought there was enough daylight left to do it.” Another quick turn of the screwdriver, and he pulled on the ring to test it. “Finished.” He glanced at her. “What are you doing out here?”

“I came to talk to my baby brother,” she said, teasing. To her surprise, Simon didn't answer her smile.

“Was ist letz?” he asked. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Well, nothing unusual. I just . . .” She took a breath. Just tell him what she wanted.

“The fact is, I've had a letter from a guest we had that summer Paul and I opened the farm to visitors. She says they want to come back, so I'm thinking maybe I should open the farm-stay again.” She hurried on to the meat of the matter. “But I'll need someone to do the kind of thing Paul did—show them how the farm operates, teach them and let them help with the work. I wondered if you'd like to do it.”

Simon didn't answer right away, and her heart sank. She couldn't read his expression in the dim light, but his lack of response probably meant he was trying to find a way to say no.

“Have you asked Daad about it?”

“Not yet. But you know Daadi doesn't really like to talk to strangers. He wouldn't be happy showing a bunch of Englischers around the farm, but I thought you might like it.” She didn't need to point out that Simon was much more outgoing than Daad. They both knew it.

Simon frowned, and the expression made him look older. “I meant did you talk to Daad about opening the farm to visitors at all?”

“Not yet. I will.” Her hands moved with a gesture meant to express what seemed so obvious to her. “Daadi's been doing so much for us since Paul got sick. I should be taking care of things for myself. I couldn't have done it last summer, but now I think I can.”

Simon's expression softened. “You know Daadi wants to take care of you and the kinder. And it's not as hard as it could be, running the two farms, since the land is adjoining. If you and Paul hadn't wanted to buy the place when you did, he probably would have bought it himself.”

“I know. He's been so much help. And you have, too. I don't know what we'd do without you. But Daadi has you younger ones to take care of and help, and now Grossmammi is moving in, as well. It's time I stood on my own feet.”

“Is that what Matthew Byler told you?” Simon's voice was suddenly so sharp it was as if a stranger had asked the question.

For a moment she could only stare at him. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I'm talking about you spending too much time with a man like Matt Byler.”

“Simon, what are you thinking? He's renting the stable for his workshop, so of course I see him from time to time.” What had got Simon riled up about Matt, of all things?

“You see him. Joshua sees him, practically every evening. Is he the kind of man you want your son looking up to?”

She stiffened. Simon was going too far. “Matt has been very kind to Josh. Why shouldn't Josh look up to him?”

“You ought to know his reputation.” The edginess in Simon's voice was so unlike him. “He drove his poor parents to leave the community with all his carrying on. Pushing the boundaries at every turn, keeping girls out late, hanging out with Englischers and coming home drunk—”

“That's enough.” Rebecca's temper nearly got away from her. Simon didn't sound like himself. In fact, she'd guess they weren't even his words, and that they'd come straight from the mouth of Simon's sweetheart.

“No, it's not enough, Rebecca. Don't you know people are talking about you?”

“Who is talking?” she demanded. “Mary Ann King and her mother?”

Simon met her gaze for a moment, and then his slid away from hers, answering her question. “People,” he said stubbornly. “Mrs. King remembers all the stories about what Matt did when he was in his teens. She wouldn't make those things up.”

Wouldn't she? Rebecca tried to remind herself to be charitable toward the woman who might well become Simon's mother-in-law, but she was too angry. Rebecca wouldn't put any exaggeration past Ada, if it made a good story.

“Ada King is the worst blabbermaul in the county, and everyone does know that, at least. I'm surprised at you, holding whatever Matt might have done during his rumspringa against him. He's long since outgrown such foolishness, just like most people do.”

Including you,
she wanted to add, but didn't. Simon's follies had been pretty innocent, as far as she'd ever found out.

“What if he hasn't?” For a moment her worried little brother peeked through the stern facade he was trying to maintain. “You don't want people saying there's something going on between you and him.”

“Nobody should be saying that, because it's not true.” Rebecca's supply of patience was running out, but she managed not to point out that a little thing like the truth didn't seem to deter Ada King. Or, even worse, that Mary Ann would be turning into her mother if she didn't watch out.

“Ada says—”

“I don't want to hear what Ada says,” she snapped. “Who I rent my stable to is my own business. And whether or not I open for visitors is my decision, and I've made it.” With a start, she realized that was true. She had decided. “I would like to have you help me, Simon.” She held her voice calm. “But if you don't want to, I'll find someone else. You can let me know what you decide.”

Before she could change her mind, she turned and walked quickly back toward the house.

Lancaster County, December 1941

A
nna
slid from her bed, shivering when her toes touched the bare floor. Moonlight slanted through the window, and in the other half of the double bed, eight-year-old Sarah slept, curled on her side. She'd had a bad dream a few hours ago, so Anna had let her go back to sleep in her room, instead of insisting Sarah stay in the room she shared with Becky.

But a different sibling was the reason Anna was awake in what felt like the middle of the night. Seth. Had Seth come in yet?

She felt at the bottom of the bed until her hand brushed the socks and heavy sweater she'd left there. With a cautious glance at her little sister, she pulled on the pair of socks. Easing herself off the bed, she drew on her sweater as she padded softly to the back window and peered out.

This window, like the one in the boys' room next to it, looked out over the back porch roof toward the barn. Hours earlier she'd heard the betraying creak of the porch roof and reached the window in time to see Seth slipping over the edge to the porch post. A few minutes later, after shimmying down the porch post, he'd darted across the yard to disappear into the shadows under the trees.

Anna hadn't given him away to Mamm and Daad, naturally. That was an unwritten law between brother and sister.

Anyway, there was no cause to worry her parents about it, was there? All teenage boys slipped out at night sometimes. He was probably off with his friends, doing something he'd rather Mamm and Daad didn't hear tell of.

Still, it was a cold night for gallivanting around, and she'd been concerned enough to try to lie awake for what seemed like hours, listening for the creak of the porch roof that would tell her Seth was back.

It hadn't come. Or at least, she hadn't heard it. She'd intended to stay awake, but she'd had a busy day, and her pillow was soft. She'd drifted off into a dream of herself and Jacob standing before the church as man and wife.

She shook off the remnants of the dream, denying herself the luxury of living in it a bit longer. Seth must have come home while she had dozed off. He was probably sound asleep by now.

Shivering a little, she crept out into the hallway. The long braid into which she put her hair at night hung heavy against her breast. The cold in the floorboards seemed to seep right through her socks. Anna eased open the door to the boys' room and peeked inside. The younger ones were sound asleep, but Seth's bed was empty.

Anna rubbed her arms, trying to chase away the chill. How late was it? Was it late enough to be really worried? Late enough that she should discard her loyalty to Seth and wake Daad?

Even as Anna had the thought, she heard a sound. Relief swept over her. Seth. She'd give him such a scold for worrying her this way—

But when she peered out the window, she saw nothing but the moonlight touching the shingles.

The sound came again. Downstairs. It was coming from downstairs. Hurrying into the hall, she stood at the top of the stairs, listening. The creak came again, followed by the unmistakable
click
of the back door closing.

She stood, hand on the stair railing. Surely it was Seth, but what was he doing coming in the back door instead of climbing the elm tree and stepping onto the porch roof as he usually did?

Well, she couldn't stand here wondering. She tiptoed down the steps, staying close to the inside edge so they wouldn't creak, avoiding the noisy third step automatically.

Someone brushed against a bench in the kitchen, and Seth's voice muttered something she couldn't make out. Anna scurried into the kitchen.

“Shh. Do you want to wake Mamm and Daad?”

Seth jerked around at the sound of her whisper. “Anna. Don't scare me like that.”

“You deserve to be scared,” she scolded. “It's one thing to sneak out, but to stay out this late . . .”

She let the words trail off when she saw that he was shivering. “Ach, you're chilled through. No wonder, as cold as it is. What possessed you to stay out so late on a night like this one?” Her fingers closed on his damp jacket, and she pulled it off him as if he were a child. “Sit by the stove.”

Anna hung the jacket on a hook in the back hall, praying Mamm wouldn't notice in the morning how wet it was. When she turned back, Seth was hunched in a chair by the wood stove, hugging himself, still shivering.

“Of all the foolish things to get up to, this takes the cake.” She jerked open the stove door and shoved the poker into the coals, stirring them up, knowing full well she was angry because he'd worried her so.

A flicker of flame appeared, but she'd need more to get Seth warmed up. The wood box next to the stove was well filled, and she seized a couple of pieces of river birch, knowing they'd flare up quickly. Anna shoved them into the coals and had the satisfaction of an instant blaze.

“We'll have to hope Daad doesn't notice the fire's been monkeyed with,” she murmured.

“He won't.” Seth's voice was a low mutter. “Just go to bed and leave me alone. You shouldn't have waited up for me. I'm not a kid.”

“You're my bruder, ain't so? Mammi always wants us to look out for each other.” The fire's light flickered on Seth's face, and Anna gasped. Bruised, dirty, a streak of blood on one cheek—

“Seth! You've been fighting.”

“Hush.” He nearly snarled the word. “You want to wake Mamm and Daad? Go to bed. I'm fine.”

Ignoring his words, Anna tipped his face up to have a closer look at the damage. It wasn't pretty, and her heart twisted to see him that way.

Tight-lipped, she seized the teakettle from the back of the stove, thankful to find it still warm to the touch. Grabbing a clean dishcloth, she soaked it with the warm water and began cleaning his face.

Neither of them spoke. She was probably hurting him, trying to get the dried blood off, but he didn't move.

Anna rinsed the cloth and began again, more gently this time. “You might as well tell me,” she said softly. “You know I'll keep asking until you do.”

He shook his head, looking very young and very stubborn. “Leave me alone.”

“If I leave you alone, Daad will know you've been fighting in a minute. Now tell me.”

His blue eyes blazed for another second and then his gaze dropped. He looked tired, young, and maybe a little bit ashamed of himself.

“I was supposed to meet Johnny Wexler down by the mill, but he didn't show up. So I ran into some Englisch guys, and they had some beer.”

“Stupid,” she said, without heat. Seth was seventeen. For sure he'd do some dumb things before he was grown.

“Ja, well, I didn't have more than a couple swallows. The guys were all talking about how probably a war was coming. And Jack Jacobson, he said as how he'd enlist right away. And the others said the same.”

“You should have come away.” She could imagine the scene only too well. All the kids boasting about how brave they were, and Seth the odd man out. “We are Amish. We don't fight. We turn the other cheek, like Jesus said.”

“Well, nobody else sees it that way. And Tommy Millard said I was a coward. That everybody knew all the Amish were cowards or worse.”

“So you thought it would make things better to hit somebody.” She pressed a cool, wet cloth against his eye. “And they hit back.”

“I don't want to talk.” He snatched the cloth from her hand. “If you're gonna tell Daad, go ahead and do it.”

Anna could only look at him . . . at the sweet face she'd washed so often, now halfway between the baby he'd been and the man he would become. Her heart hurt so much she could hardly breathe. What was happening to them?

“You'd best have a story ready for Daad about how you hurt your face,” she said, and fled before she could burst into tears.

•   •   •

Rebecca
put her arm around Katie, drawing her closer as they sat next to each other at worship on Sunday. The benches grew a bit hard for lively kinder toward the end of the three-hour service. Katie leaned against her, and Rebecca savored the moment. Her daughter was growing so fast that soon she'd reject such a display of affection in public.

She tried to concentrate on Bishop Jonah's closing words, but found her thoughts straying to her brother. It was all very well to tell Simon she'd manage without his help with the guests, but if he didn't come around, what was she to do? Would one of the younger boys be capable? Or perhaps one of her male cousins?

Rebecca glanced across the aisle to the men's side. Joshua was so pleased to be sitting with his grossdaadi and onkels for worship, instead of being stuck on the women's side with her as if he were a baby. At the moment, despite his claims of being so grown-up, he had clearly dozed off on Simon's lap.

Her heart clenched. Simon was so good with the boy, and such a help to her in so many ways. She didn't want to be at odds with him, but she certainly wasn't going to let his sweetheart's mother govern what she did.

Ashamed of the surge of annoyance she felt at the thought of the woman, she looked down, shielding her eyes for a silent prayer for forgiveness for her uncharitable attitude. Criticizing Mary Ann and her mother was certainly not the way to reconcile with Simon.

The service moved on to its conclusion. As she slid down to her knees for prayer, guiding a half-asleep Katie, she made up her mind. She wouldn't wait for Simon to speak—she'd go to him with an apology for her angry words. After all, if Simon ended up wedding Mary Ann, she'd have to . . . Somehow she couldn't finish the thought.

There was a rustle of movement as worship came to a close. It would take a few minutes for the men to convert the backless benches into tables, and they'd probably set them outside on such a warm spring day.

“Komm, Katie. I'll see if I can help in the kitchen. You may go and find your friends, but mind you stay out of the way while people are setting up for lunch.”

“I will, Mammi.” Katie's lively smile flashed, and she darted off in an instant.

Rebecca joined her grandmother, who was looking after Katie with an affectionate smile.

“The little ones need to stretch their legs a bit after sitting so long, ain't so?” She took Rebecca's arm for a step or two, moving slowly. “And so do the old ones.” She chuckled, never one to take herself too seriously.

They walked together out of the long concrete-floored shed that was attached to Eli Esh's machine shop, and as she looked at her grandmother, Rebecca's thoughts turned to the diary she'd been reading.

“Grossmammi, do you remember anything about the Second World War?”

Her grandmother's eyes lit. “You are reading Anna's book, ain't so? I remember a bit, I suppose, but I was just a child then. And if times were hard . . .” She shrugged. “Well, a child thinks however he or she lives is normal. I didn't have anything to compare it to.”

Rebecca nodded, realizing how true that was. Probably that was why Josh seemed less affected by the loss of his father than Katie. He didn't remember a time before his daad was sick.

“It makes you think, reading someone else's thoughts,” she said. “Some things about Anna's time seem so different, but other things—things like family troubles—well, they're just the same.”

Grossmammi gave a brisk nod. “Families don't change much, that's certain-sure. There are always marryings and buryings, quarrels and making up, love and jealousy and worry all mixed together most of the time.” She shook her head, as if shaking off any melancholy in her own words. “I'd like to hear all about it later, but I know you don't have time now. You run on and help with the food, there's a gut girl. I'll chust have a seat under the tree in the shade.”

Rebecca delayed long enough to see her grandmother settled with a few old friends before she hurried off to the kitchen. Ella Esh would have all the work done by the time she got there, if she didn't hustle.

Sure enough, when Rebecca entered the kitchen, Ella already had women cutting sandwiches and mixing up the peanut butter and marshmallow cream mixture that the children loved. And some who were no longer children loved it, too. The laughter and chatter of a dozen women at work echoed from the kitchen walls.

Rebecca squeezed past one group filling dessert trays, wanting to wash her hands before touching the food. Sadie Byler, Matt's cousin, was among them, and her voice seemed to ring out suddenly.

“Matt's supposed to have come back to Brook Hill to help Daad, but as far as I can see, he's spending more time over at Rebecca Fisher's place than he is ours.”

Rebecca froze, praying she wasn't flushing, feeling mortified and angry all at once. Maybe Simon's claim that people were gossiping wasn't as far-fetched as she'd thought.

The other women around Sadie fell silent when they saw Rebecca standing there. Sadie, maybe warned by their stillness, swung around and saw her.

Rebecca had to speak, had to do something to refute the implication that Matt came over to see her. Sadie was staring at her, lips pressed together, eyes snapping.

Say something,
Rebecca commanded herself, but she couldn't.

Mary Stoltzfus, the bishop's wife, set a cake pan on the table with a clatter that sounded loud in the silence. “Since your cousin is renting a building for his business from Rebecca, it isn't surprising that he should spend time at the Fisher place, ain't so?” Her tone was mild, but she spoke with the assurance of one who knew that what she said made a difference to those who heard.

Sadie flushed, an angry red that stained her cheeks. For an instant it seemed she didn't intend to respond.

“Ja,” she said at last. “That's true.” With a flash of temper she added, “But he's supposed to be helping my daad.” She dropped the slice of cake she was holding and turned to shove her way out of the kitchen.