The Guardian (30 page)

As she frequently did when frustrated, Maryanna took herself off to her room to sort. She began to pull out everything in each of her dresser drawers, as well as the blanket chest at the foot of her bed. This was a cleaning tirade, and she was glad of it.

What’ll I tell Tobias?

Oh, for goodness’ sake, she’d just send him back over there for the animal, since she’d already given consent in person. “Like Joshua wanted,” she said right out. “But why was that even necessary?”

Turning her attention to the bottom drawer, she attempted to open it, but it stuck. She jiggled it and could see several pieces of paper pushed clear in the back. She reached in and found what looked to be some old receipts—and a picture.

Turning it over, she saw Benuel’s mother’s handwriting on the back.
Benuel Esh, one year old.

So long ago …
She stared at the photo—those chubby cheeks and bright eyes so like Sarah’s at that age.

She remembered when Benuel first showed her the precious picture. A rarity, to be sure, and something only a very few church members did when their children were small. As long as pictures weren’t taken later in life, the ministerial brethren paid no mind.

Maryanna studied it as tears welled up. “Such a sweet-spirited little boy,” she whispered, recalling her husband from their earliest childhood days, first at Preachings and later at the schoolhouse. Benuel had always sought out companions similar to himself … friends like Joshua Peachey. And Benuel always remarked about Joshua’s
gut
heart, too. A heart for the Lord God …

And hadn’t Maryanna observed that, too, in all Joshua had done for her family these last years, walking the children to and from school, checking in with the boys, searching for little Sarah? Truth be told, even his willingness to give Tobias that ridiculous rabbit showed the depth of the man’s caring heart.

She thought again of Ida prancing up Joshua’s back steps, obviously quite comfortable doing so.

So it’s too late for me.
She still held the picture of her dear husband. Then, sighing, she whispered, “Or is it?”

Brushing back the last remnant of tears, Maryanna carefully tucked the picture into the small drawer on the table next to her bed.
I’ve already lost one man, but I don’t want to lose another!

T
he next day, Maryanna went out to get her mail and discovered yet another letter from Turkey Dan. He was inviting her out again to talk about
moving forward.

She carried the letter up to her room and tucked it into a dresser drawer, starting to feel pressured. Oh, she liked him well enough—it wasn’t that. Things with Dan Zook could take off like a wildfire, she was afraid. He was in a hurry to find a mother for his boys, a noble cause, of course. But when she pondered this, it reminded her of the main reason she’d accepted Joshua’s invitation to go riding in the first place—prompted by her parents, no less.

And Sarah’s need for a firmer hand.

The rabbit in its cage—in the utility room as of last evening, when Joshua briefly dropped by—was a tangible reminder of that man’s interest in Maryanna’s dear children. And in the midst of her chores and the busy afternoon ahead, she closed the door to her room and dropped to her knees beside the bed. “O dear Lord in heaven, if you want me to marry again, will you, by your great grace and wisdom, make it clear who that man should be? I give you all praise and
gratitude for the many blessings over our lives. In the name of Jesus, I pray. Amen.”

That afternoon, Jodi insisted they take her car to purchase canned goods at the “bent and dent” store—BB’s in Quarryville—leaving Mammi Emmie in charge of the children, who were doing their outside chores.

Maryanna was not at all accustomed to riding in the front passenger seat of a car. She’d always sat farther back in the vans when their Mennonite drivers took her and the children to more distant destinations, and she felt a bit tense and wished Jodi might slow down a bit. Twice before, she’d gone with Jodi, who wanted to help out with groceries, refusing to
“sponge
off”
them, as she put it.

“Are you nervous?” Jodi looked over at her.

“Jah, a little.” Maryanna didn’t mind admitting it and was glad when Jodi slowed significantly as they drove west on Hickory Lane, toward Old Leacock Road.

“I think the rabbit will be content with all the extra attention,” Jodi said out of the blue.

Maryanna tried not to roll her eyes.

Jodi laughed a little. “Shadow was special to Joshua. Wasn’t the rabbit his wife’s?”

“As I understand it.”

“His pets must be a comfort to him.”

Maryanna hardly knew what to say.

“But he
did
give up the rabbit,” said Jodi.

“‘Tis true.”

“And,” Jodi continued, “Joshua probably wouldn’t ever have wanted all those pets if he wasn’t so lonely.”

“Hard to say.”

“I’ve actually thought of getting a cat myself, when I return home. It’s going to be a long year without my fiance nearby.”

“Japan’s awful far away.”

“So I can see why Joshua likes to have several pets, especially indoors.” Jodi paused. “You’ve got your children, and he has none.”

Maryanna guessed that was a logical way to look at it, although she still didn’t equate her children’s wonderful-
gut
company to that of furry pets or a loud-mouthed bird.

The sky was exceptionally pale, nearly white, like a vast bed sheet on washday. Maryanna kept her eyes focused on it instead of the road.

“How long has Joshua been a widower?” Jodi asked.

Maryanna told her.

“I’m surprised.”

“Why do you say that?”

Jodi looked over at her. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, I’d like to know.”

Jodi cleared her throat. “Well, on the walk to and from school yesterday, I noticed how patient and gentle he is with the children. From what I’ve come to know of him … Joshua’s rather remarkable.”

“You think so
?
”

“And very attractive.”

“Oh,” Maryanna said, blushing at that. She’d certainly noticed as much herself, at least here lately, but she hadn’t expected the Englischer to think so, too.

I
n the days that followed, little Sarah encouraged Jodi to kneel beside her during morning and evening prayers as Maryanna and the children went around the room and said a short prayer of gratitude.

Ever since her prayer in the back row at church, Jodi’s heart was softening—something was loosening up in her.
Trent was right,
she thought.
I can’t stay mad at God forever.

Jodi had missed praying while jogging all those months during her standoff. Now she looked forward to family worship before going to bed and at other times during the day. She prayed for guidance and help, too, especially regarding the care and teaching of the Amish children to whom she was growing more attached as each week passed.

At the end of every day, there was time for reflection and sometimes just sitting and watching the lightning bugs sparkle across the meadow while the children played with the ponies. And, oh, the sound of the katydids!

One such night, Maryanna probed a bit, just as Jodi had with her on the drive to Quarryville some time ago. Only Maryanna
was far more tactful, asking quietly how things stood between Jodi and her fiance these days.

“We’re careful not to talk about certain topics—like having kids.” Jodi assumed that fact showed Trent’s consideration for her, that he’d bundled his frustration and given it to God in prayer.

“Well, maybe you can think of it another way,” Maryanna said sympathetically. “I almost lost Sarah when she fell out of the carriage.”

Jodi nodded.

“But do you think I wished I’d never had her because of that mishap? Even if she hadn’t been returned to me, I would have cherished every minute we’d had, for always.” She paused. “Do you see?”

Jodi listened, reminded of her mother’s similar words about Karen last month.

Maryanna sighed. “And, too, I loved Benuel so much … our little ones are a constant reminder of him.”

Jodi hadn’t considered this before, but she was beginning to understand. “You know, if a little girl like your Sarah could steal my heart, maybe I haven’t really resolved this issue. And who knows, maybe I would be a good mother.”

“Oh, goodness’ sake, I know that for sure!”

It really wasn’t about that, anyway. Nor was it about losing anymore, either. Jodi wanted to give of herself, for whatever time God allowed her. It all came down to trusting, embracing His sovereign will.

At such a time, it was impossible for Jodi not to consider her own argument for why Joshua had his pets—he seemed to regard them as part of his family. But wasn’t she doing that very thing with Trent, asking him to give up his unborn children,
so to speak? Maybe it was a stretch, but she saw the parallel and it struck her heart.

In the tranquility of the moment, with a choir of crickets crowding out the world and slowing down the night, Jodi recognized that somewhere along the way, she’d begun to change her thinking.

“I think I need to talk to Trent,” she said, wanting to share her new resolve, although she hated to do so via Skype. She wished they could be together at Thanksgiving or Christmas, but that was impossible. Besides, why wait to tell him then?

So that evening, she took her laptop and drove to the coffee shop where she and Trent had argued. There, she composed a heartfelt email, taking her time to explain—and apologizing for—what she felt was her very selfish, even stubborn, position.
It was absolutely unnecessary,
she wrote, struggling to see the screen through her tears.
I’ve learned a lot about myself here, Trent, and I’ve rediscovered my desire to pray again. I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear this, unquestionably an answer to your own prayers. And I believe it is one reason why I have become more open to being a mother to your children someday … if you’re still interested.

When she’d finished writing her heart on the page, she happily pressed Send. Jodi was surprised to see an email from Trent had arrived in her inbox. In her haste to write, she’d missed seeing his note!

Clicking on it, she began to read.

Hi, Jodi,

The days are so full of activity associated with my students, all of whom have captured my attention. For more than a week, I’ve wanted to see you face-to-face, but we both know that can’t happen till next summer. I’ve been composing this
email to you in my head awhile, and I’m ready to tell you what I’m thinking. After much prayer, I’ve come to see your position.

Life is fragile, which is why I didn’t want to lock the door on having a family with you, honey. The reason I initially changed my mind is because of my love for you—I wanted to see your eyes, your sweet spirit, your Jodi-ness in another soul … in our future children. But causing you stress or pain—heaven forbid!—by insisting on my way is not what I wish to do.

So I’m going to honor our original decision, Jodi. I love you that much … enough to give up the hope of children. You will be my family, and I am content with that.

With all my love,
Trent

She gasped, crying, “What have I done?”

During the next two weeks, Joshua’s neighbors kept dropping by unsolicited to inquire about his two remaining indoor pets. It was the most peculiar thing, really. Why would not only his own sisters-in-law and neighbor Rhoda Kurtz stop by, but also Lovina Yoder and even Rebecca Lapp? The women brought fresh-baked sticky buns or pumpkin whoopie pies from the Bird-in-Hand Bake Shop or their own kitchens, seemingly for the purpose of asking to purchase Malachi or to take Honey Lou off his hands.

Not a one had said boo about faithful Buster. That, too, was very odd.

What’s going on?
Joshua wondered as he tended to his young steers.

The last week Jodi Winfield was scheduled to substitute teach, Joshua decided to pay a visit to Maryanna while the children were at school. He’d seen little Sarah going next door to visit her grandparents, so the coast was clear.

If Maryanna’s busy, I’ll just make it snappy,
he decided.

Maryanna greeted him at the back door, and he immediately felt awkward. “Just thought I’d ask ‘bout Shadow.” He removed his straw hat.

“Well, so far he hasn’t eaten more than his fair share,” she said with a straight face.

“Have to say I miss the little critter.” Joshua looked down at his feet, standing there on the back porch. “My house pets have all been farmed out.”

Maryanna wrinkled her nose. “I imagine Ida must be happy ‘bout that.”

“Ida?”

Maryanna seemed to hedge. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No worries. Besides, I’m not seein’ her anymore.”

Maryanna turned pale. “Well, why not?”

“It just wasn’t meant to be, and I’ll leave it right there.”

Maryanna looked at him intently, as if unable to grasp what he’d said. In fact, her expression was so curious, he felt compelled to explain further, even though warning bells were sounding:
Don’t put your foot in your mouth!

“Ida’s nice enough,” he said. “Ain’t that.” He hesitated, then thought better of what he had in mind and plunged right ahead. “But I figure a man shouldn’t marry someone, no matter
how nice she is, when he can’t stop thinkin’ about another.” His heart was on the ground, but Joshua had said what he’d wanted to since before his first date with Maryanna.

And now, what was this? She was blushing to beat the band. He’d embarrassed her. Again.

They stared at each other, Joshua shuffling his feet, hardly knowing what to say or do. “Heard the school board’s finally found a replacement for the Englischer. Did ya know?”

Maryanna, still red in the face, nodded. “Jodi did mention something.”

“An unmarried older teenager from the Harvest Road church district, evidently. She’ll teach for the rest of the school year.”

“The children will miss Jodi, I’m sure.”

He agreed, returning his hat to his head. “Well, I’d better be on my way.”

She looked nearly dejected. “Must ya, Joshua?”

“Sorry?”

Maryanna softly cleared her throat. “Would you like to come for supper, I mean?” She glanced in the direction of his house. “Since your pets aren’t around, it must be awful lonely over there.”

He gazed at her pretty face, and she smiled sweetly. And if he wasn’t mistaken, it looked a little like the way she used to smile at Benuel when they were first courting.

Joshua said simply, “I’d love to join your family, Maryanna … for supper.”