The Sound of Sleigh Bells (17 page)

“Beth.” His gentle voice circulated through her blood, reminding her of a hundred dreams she once imagined for her life. “That day at Pete’s, when we saw each other, I felt it too. I’ve thought of you so many times since then. Are you going to close me out because I don’t know you when you’re the one not giving me that chance?”

She went to the kitchen table and picked up the letter she’d tossed there earlier. She always carried letters with her when traveling, an old habit in case she needed to reference some information or address a question. But in Jonah’s case, she’d kept them with her because she enjoyed rereading them. Walking back to where he stood, she pulled it out of its envelope and opened it. “Did you mark out this line?”

He took the letter from her, studied it for a few moments, and then laid it on the counter in front of her. Without giving an answer, he opened two small tin canisters, added a spoon to each, and slid them her way. One contained sugar and the other powdered cream. “You’re changing the subject. We were talking about you, about us.”

She picked up the letter and lightly shook it. “You want honesty from me, but you can’t give it?”

He took two mugs from the cabinet and moved to the stove. “Your aunt knew we needed each other’s friendship. She saw that in both of us, but we agree she went about it completely wrong.” He held out a mug of steaming coffee to her.

She didn’t take it. Instead she nudged the letter toward him again. “What did the line she marked out say?”

He set the cup on the counter in front of her. “I think it said that your voice on paper sounded much different than you sounded in person. I noticed it in the first letter from you, but I thought maybe that’s why you asked for us to write.”

Beth’s throat ached from the effort of bottling emotions she didn’t want. Without meeting her, Jonah sensed more of who she was from a letter than others she had known since childhood did. Tears choked her, and she wished she hadn’t asked about the marked-out line. “I should go.”

He met her eyes but said nothing for a moment. She felt so transparent and couldn’t sort out if it thrilled her or frightened her.

“I understand. You know what I’d like, but it’s ultimately your choice.” The finality in his voice dug deeper into the canyon of doubt inside her. He took a sip of his drink. “I’ll miss hearing from you, Beth.”

She stared at the black liquid in her cup, not wanting to see the message in his face again. “If you were an old man, I’d be a nice girl to write to, one who could help you earn money selling your carvings. But you’re not old, and I can’t chance what might happen if I don’t walk away. There are boundaries I can’t cross.”

“That’s how you’ve been coping, I know, but I don’t believe that’s who you want to be.”

A sob escaped her, and she turned her back to him. To her right stood a set of french doors, framing a view of rolling pastures, sprawling oaks, and a huge moon, highlighting the work of a God larger than her pain. “I felt drawn to a man once before.” She whispered, but she knew by Jonah’s silence that he’d heard her. “Only a little compared to…us. But it dug two graves—his and mine.”

Jonah stepped closer. “Can you tell me what happened?”

She’d come this far. “There were two Henry Smuckers. The one I agreed to marry and the one who showed up soon after I said yes to his proposal. The latter came out of hiding whenever he didn’t like something.”

It was several minutes before she could say more, but Jonah waited.

“The longer we were engaged, the more things Henry didn’t like about my life. He wanted to control my every thought, every feeling. Accused me of caring too much for my family. He especially resented my feelings for Lizzy and my Daed. He demanded I give up the store. At first I avoided family gatherings, worked fewer hours—anything that might make him feel more at ease. No matter what I changed for him, it wasn’t enough. His complaining turned into yelling. Then he started getting rough with me—nothing huge, just quiet ways of leaving bruises on my arms. A day or two later he’d be the Henry I fell for…warm, endearing, funny. He said he knew he needed to change, and if I’d help him, he would. But the closer we got to our wedding, the worse he became. I could see only misery ahead. I wanted to remain loyal, but I couldn’t marry him. I grew more distant, indifferent, and when I no longer cared whether he needed me or if I was being selfish, I told him I was done. And I didn’t care what it did to him.”

She turned to face Jonah and drew a deep breath. “He wasn’t from Apple Ridge, but he was staying with one of his uncles when I went to see him. It had been pouring rain for days. We stood on the porch, and I told him I couldn’t marry him. At first he was kind and understanding, trying to convince me to change my mind. Then he grew angry and began threatening me. He lifted me off my feet and banged my back against the side of the house, demanding”—she looked Jonah straight in the eye—“
demanding
I marry him. I broke free and ran for my buggy. He chased me, begging me not to leave him, swearing he’d change. But I told him it was too late. He threatened to spread lies, said he’d break my Daed’s heart and ruin my business and…” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Suddenly I could see that his problems were deeper than insecurity and uncontrollable anger. He needed real help, but I just wanted out. As I climbed into the buggy, he…he jerked me out and then dropped me. I slid through the muck in the yard. When he grabbed me off the ground, I kicked and lashed out with all my strength. I… I guess I caught him off guard, because he went down to his knees in pain.” She rubbed her eyes. “Dear God, forgive me. While he was still down, I said horrid things one person should never say to another.” She closed her eyes. “And while he screamed promises from the mud, I left.”

“And Henry?”

“The next day he was found downstream—dead, drowned. Before daylight his uncle brought me the news, and I went to where they’d found him. I knelt in the rain, holding him, with no way to change the past. The muddy, frothy water roaring nearby was unusually powerful from the previous days of rain. When the police arrived, I told them about our fight. One of the officers said they’d need to investigate but that I should protect Henry’s family and my own by keeping the argument and the breakup to myself. It didn’t take long for them to verify that Henry was still alive when I left him and that I was home when he came up missing. Another officer, a detective, I think, said he’d found a spot on the creek bank where it looked as if it had caved under Henry’s feet. There were claw marks in the mud nearby that showed where Henry had tried to get ashore, so they didn’t believe foul play or suicide was the cause. But they told me again that it wouldn’t help anyone to share what Henry was really like or the hurt he was feeling when he died. I understood it would hurt everyone I loved to learn the truth. And I kept thinking if I’d been more loyal, been the kind of person who’d stand by my fiancé no matter what, then he wouldn’t be dead.”

“Beth, you’re blaming you for protecting yourself. Can’t you see that?”

“I should have seen his problems sooner. When his issues were serious, I should have been strong enough to help him. But as I stood at Henry’s grave site the day he was buried, covered in bruises no one would ever see, I knew it didn’t matter what I should have done, only what I would do. Make sure never to let it happen again.”

“You question your loyalty, but didn’t his proposal come with an unspoken promise of love and protection?”

She didn’t answer. The logical part of her understood that, but the hardness that she felt inside didn’t yield to reason. “None of that matters now. I try to do what’s right. Try to respond to those around me like before Henry’s death, but it’s not the same.”

He dumped a spoonful of sugar and one of powered cream into a mug. “And ever since, you hide from your future behind black.” He stirred the coffee. “Henry had problems, the kind we almost never hear of among the Amish. But you did the right thing not marrying him.” He walked to where she stood and held out the mug to her. “The right thing, Beth.”

“How could it be right if I carry Henry’s blood on my hands?”

“The only blood on you—whether his or yours—is what he spilled every time he hurt you.”

His words sliced through the lies she couldn’t find freedom from, leaving her staggering at the revelation that someone else knew her secret—and didn’t find her guilty. “I… I need to go.”

“Then take a few sips while I get something I want you to have.”

She took the cup. Her chest ached from the tears, but she was glad to have finally told someone. She drew the warm mug to her lips and drank. The flavor was both customary and keenly rare.

Like the man himself
.

Breathing in the aroma, she couldn’t imagine what he’d used or done differently to make it so delicious.

He came back into the room with a letter in hand. “It’s the one I wrote to you after I came to the hayride. I mean every word, if you can manage to hear it.”

She kept both hands wrapped around her mug. “No more, Jonah. It’s too much, and I can’t take it. Lizzy shouldn’t have thrown us together. I just gave you every reason you need to let me go.” She held the drink out to him.

He took the cup, but with his index and middle finger of that same hand, he continued to hold the letter out to her. “Take the letter. Mostly it says what I’ve already said here today, but you’ll be able to hear it better when you’ve had more time to adjust to who you’ve really been writing to. Just tell me you’ll read it, and I’ll let you be. I hope to hear from you, though.”

“You won’t.”

In spite of her assurance, she eased the letter from his fingers before she turned and left.

B
eth and Gloria rode home in silence, the joy of the business deal gone. Despite Beth’s anger with Lizzy, Jonah’s voice continued to work its way through her, as if they stood in the same room. His letter tormented her, begging to be read, but she left it sealed.

After one stop for food and gas, they continued on. She hadn’t eaten, and between pondering what Jonah had said and thinking about how ridiculously wrong Lizzy was to have pulled such a stunt, she couldn’t manage to hold a conversation with Gloria.

The hum of the tires against the pavement continued mile after mile, and her emotions finally began to settle. The lull of the van slowly overtook Beth’s anxiety, and she grew drowsy. As sleep eased over her, sleigh bells rang, and children’s laughter echoed. Darkness filled every corner of where she stood. It matched her clothing. It matched who she’d become, and she couldn’t see a way out. The tinkling sound of bells and laughter came from a place ahead of her.

Feeling her way through the darkness, she walked and walked. Her palms bumped against a heavy wooden door, but it swung open easily, and she stepped onto a snow-covered field. The moon glistened on the white backdrop. A man appeared in front of her. A beautiful sleigh held several children of various ages—how many she couldn’t tell. The man’s hand stretched toward her, but she refused. He motioned for her, unable to cross some unseen barrier.

She knew this place. Fear jolted through her.

Demanding her body to wake, she slowly became aware of the car seat beneath her, but the sound of sleigh bells continued. Willing herself to breathe deeply and become fully conscious, she seemed to be awake several long moments before the jingling faded.

Beth sat up, watching the silhouettes of night pass by until Gloria pulled into Lizzy’s driveway. Even though it was past midnight, going to her aunt’s house after a trip was the routine, one Beth couldn’t avoid or Lizzy would come to her. That would be especially true since Gloria had called Lizzy after they’d left Gabe’s to say they were going to Jonah Kinsinger’s.

Beth wished she knew how to share the mix of anger and humiliation circling inside her, plus the confusing situation Lizzy had heaped on her.

Gloria stopped the van.

Beth gathered her things. “I don’t know what all you report back to Daed, but this situation with Jonah is personal, and I’m twenty-six.”

“One day I’d like to understand how you had such a row with a man you’d never met before, two of ‘em, in fact, but I won’t say a word to anyone.” Gloria looked at her. “You okay?”

“I’m not sure,” Beth mumbled, wishing she knew the answer. “Do you believe people need surgery and physical therapy for emotional or soul wounds?”

Gloria put the van in Park. “I never thought about it in those terms, but, yeah, I do.”

“Jonah believes it. He thinks if I’d quit trying to hide long enough to face what’s killing me, I might find happiness again.” Beth paused. “If you held a secret, an awful one that would hurt everybody, would you tell your family or pastor?”

Gloria ran her palm back and forth over the steering wheel. “I’ve known you for a long time, and I don’t want to say anything that would hurt you, but the truth is, if a secret was doing to me what it’s done to you, I’d tell. I guess you should ask yourself if holding on to the secret isn’t hurting people just as badly as telling them the truth.”

Beth had thought she was sparing her family, Lizzy in particular. “Go on. I’m listening.”