The Survivor (18 page)

“I didn’t come here to talk, neither,” he said, then pressed his lips to hers.

Immediately, she lifted her hands to his chest and pushed. But her hands might have been butterflies, they were so useless.

The kiss continued. Hard and nearly violent. She felt his hard teeth against her lips. Little by little, she was finding it difficult to breathe.

Tension rose in her, intertwining with panic. With all her might, she pushed at him and averted her face.
“William!”
she gasped
. “William, stop!”

But instead of backing away, he grasped her arm. “Mattie, you know you want this.”

She most definitely did not. Just as he leaned closer again, obviously determined to trap her in another kiss, she raised her knee into his groin. Just as Graham had taught her years ago.

And, just as Graham had—William grunted, then crumbled in pain.

Mattie used the opportunity to run.

Out of breath and shaking, she raced outside, then ran to the kitchen door in record time. Only when she was safely on the other side of the closed door did she feel the slightest hint of relief.

“Mattie? I heard the door slam,” her mother said, walking into the kitchen with a towel in her hand. “Whatever is—”

“Oh, Mamm. I’m so glad to see you.”

Tossing the towel on the counter, her mother approached. “What’s wrong? Mattie, are you sick?”

“
Nee.
It was William. Mamm, he gr-grabbed me and k-ki-kissed me.” Still struggling to catch her breath, Mattie added, “I think he would’ve done more if I hadn’t run away.” As she said the words, everything felt more real than ever. Tears started to fall. “I was scared.”

Her mother tensed. “Oh, why did your father have to be out of town right now?” Looking at the closed door, she said, “Where is he?”

“In the barn. I left him kneeling on the floor. But I imagine he’ll get up again soon.” As she thought about how angry he must be, she whispered, “Mamm, what are we going to do?”

“
We
are not going to do anything. I, however, will go talk to him. You need to go lie down.”

“Mamm, that could be dangerous.”

“After everything you’ve been through?
Nee.
The last thing I would ever do is let me leave here without talking to William. But you don’t worry, child.” With a tender hand, she softly brushed two fingers along Mattie’s cheek. “Oh, my daughter. I am so very glad you are all right.” And with that, she turned and practically marched out the door.

Mattie knew the right thing to do would be to follow her
mamm
, to lend her support. But she was shaking so badly, she didn’t know how she could lend any help at all.

In a daze, she wandered to her room, sat on her bed, then hugged her favorite down pillow tightly.

And tried not to imagine what would have happened if she hadn’t fought William.

As she started shaking, she wished she could call for Graham, but it felt too strange.

It was time to stop depending on him and start making do on her own. But, of course, that made her feel even worse than usual.

For a moment, panic set in. A bare, desolate feeling settled in, making her feel completely alone.

Then, she remembered a long-ago conversation with Lucy, back when Lucy’s life had been far different. She’d been struggling with Paul’s death, and her feelings of guilt surrounding it.

“The Lord is always with you,” Lucy had said. “No matter what, you are never alone. During my darkest days with Paul, I held tight to that belief.”

Hold tight
.

Liking the imagery of those words, Mattie closed her eyes and desperately held tight to that hope. “Please, Lord,” she said to the empty room. “Please hold me in your arms and guide me. I still need you.”

She paused, feeling a bit selfish. She’d already gotten her health. Maybe now she was asking for too much.

With that in mind, she spoke again, squeezing her eyelids tightly shut and lifting her whole heart into the silence of the room and the spirit of the Lord who she felt was always with her. “God, I know I’ve asked a lot from you lately. I asked for your healing touch with my body. I asked you to be with Lucy, to help her find happiness and love. I prayed over Ella and Loyal, asked for your help and prayers for their safety and happiness.”

She swallowed. “And most of all, I asked for your trust. For you to believe in me even when I didn’t believe in you . . .”

As Mattie heard her words reverberate in the room, she remembered the scripture verse from Isaiah about prayers
. When you call, the Lord will answer. “Yes I am here,” he will quickly reply.

Nowhere in that verse were conditions about when to pray, or that a person could pray or ask for too much . . .

Gathering her courage, she tried again. “Lord, if it’s not too much to ask . . . could you help me now? Again? I really need you.” Sheepishly, she added—most likely to herself as much as to Him—“I guess I always have and always will.”

Little by little, a sense of calm floated over her. Little by little, her muscles relaxed.

After a time, her door opened and her mother poked her head in. “He’s gone, Mattie.”

Mattie scrambled to sit up. “Oh, Mamm. Mamm, are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“
Nee
, Mattie.” To Mattie’s surprise, her mother smiled. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“What did he do?”

“After I yelled at him and told him I’d make sure everyone knew he attacked you, he promised he’d never come near you again.” Tilting her chin up, her mother’s grin turned mischievous. “Don’t tell anyone, but I have to say I quite enjoyed watching him look at me in fear.”

Mattie couldn’t help it, she started giggling. And when her mother crossed the room, giggling, too, Mattie laughed until she cried.

Chapter Twenty-Three

W
hen the doorbell rang, Jenna’s pulse raced. Chris had left a message at the library that he was going to stop by.

“That must be Chris,” she told Mary. “What should I do?”

Jenna took one last look at Mary. “What should
I
do?”

Mary motioned her forward with her hand. “Go answer. Chris and you need to talk. Plus, you’ve sought shelter here, not a hiding place.”

Mary’s words were true. She was coming to learn that evading didn’t solve problems. Things just got more complicated. With that in mind, she opened the front door. But the person on the other side of the threshold was not who she expected. “Graham?” she sputtered. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” he said, stepping right inside, hardly even waiting for her to get out of the way.

Though she moved, Jenna wasn’t inclined to follow his directions. “Could we maybe talk tomorrow? Now’s not a good time.” Before he closed the door, she skimmed the yard behind him. If Chris kept his word, he was going to show up any minute, and if he saw Graham here, it was going to be one of the most uncomfortable moments in her life, ever.

Graham scowled. “It doesn’t matter if you think it’s a good time or not. We need to talk things through. I can’t wait another day.”

Graham’s six-foot stature loomed over her, as did his discomfort. It emanated off him in waves.

She knew she deserved his anger.

“I’m expecting someone, Graham. Are you sure we can’t talk tomorrow? Or maybe even in a few hours?”

For a moment, he looked like he was going to let her have her way, but then a muscle in his cheek tensed and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think so. This won’t take long.”

Feeling comforted by Mary’s presence in the next room, she nodded. “All right. What do you want to say?”

“I want answers to questions, Jenna.”

“Does that mean you intend to listen?”

He jerked a nod. “Why did you tell that story? Why did you lie?”

It was almost a relief to tell him. “Because I was desperate.”

His eyes flashed. “Desperate? But why would you think I would accept your lie?”

“From something you told me months ago,” she said. “When we went to that art show and walked around, you said good friends were willing to put up with things out of their control. You said good friends tried to be there for each other. No matter what.”

“I was talking about Mattie. I was talking about caring for her while she was so sick.”

“Well, I took it to mean that it also included helping me.” Before he could reply to that, she raised a hand. “Listen, before you say anything else, I want you to know that I realize I was wrong. I’m sorry, too. And I fully intend to tell everyone that you are not the father of my baby.”

“So who is?”

“That I can’t tell you,” she said, even as she heard the gravel spit out under Chris’s truck tires. “And believe me, you don’t want to know.”

He froze. “Jenna . . . did someone force you?”

“No.” Jenna held his gaze for a moment before tucking her chin again. The look she’d seen there was disconcerting. It reminded her of how she’d hoped he’d look at her when they were at the art show.

Full of concern and care.

Boy, had she messed things up between them. Now that time had passed, she knew she’d been half hoping to see a spark between them. Instead, she now knew the difference. Graham hadn’t looked at her with love because he hadn’t loved her.

She’d been hoping to force things instead of waiting for the right time, which obviously hadn’t come yet.

She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t forced,” she said, thinking about so much more than just what Graham was asking. “Everything that happened, I did out of my own free will. And the consequences, well, they’re mine to bear, too.” Glancing toward Mary, Jenna silently begged for help.

Luckily, Mary understood and immediately walked toward them. Just as the front door chimed. “Oh! We have more company!” she said cheerily as she opened the front door.

And then there stood Chris, looking tall and handsome and terribly sweet.

Jenna swallowed hard.

As Graham looked at the newcomer with solemn eyes, she wished she could disappear into the floor. This was really too much.

“Chris, won’t you please join me in the kitchen?” Mary asked, taking his arm and practically dragging him to the back of the house.

“Jenna, are you all right?” Chris called out, looking at her over his shoulder.

Graham stared at Mary and Chris’s backs as they disappeared into the kitchen. “Jenna, why is he here?”

“To visit, of course,” she said. Feeling at odds and ends, she wiped her sweaty palms on her apron, then opened the door to let him leave. “Now, if you will excuse me, I should probably go speak with him.”

“Who is he? Is he—” Graham looked toward the kitchen again.

Jenna heard Chris’s voice float down the hall as he accepted a cup of coffee from Mary. Her uneasiness about the whole situation forced her to finally say what needed to be said.

“Graham, I’m sorry. I was wrong, I promise I realize that now. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying about you. For lying to you. Though my apology will probably never be enough, I don’t know what else to say.”

He shuffled to the doorway. Grasping the door handle, he paused again, looking toward the kitchen. Jenna felt her cheeks heat as Chris’s voice flew their way again.

“I, uh, hope you will have a good evening,” she said. “That is, unless you have any more questions?”

“
Nee
. I got the answers I came for,” he said cryptically.

Jenna watched him turn and walk away, and with a sigh, she closed the door. As she heard Chris’s easy laughter float down the hall, she steeled herself to get ready for the second confrontation of the day.

G
raham’s mind was racing double time. Far quicker than Beauty’s hooves as she clip-clopped along the road.

Though he usually took time to admire the snow-covered landmarks in Jacob’s Crossing, all he could think about was his visit with Jenna.

Why had that
Englischer
shown up? And what did he want with Jenna? Or, perhaps he had come to see Mary? Mentally, he tried to recall how old that man was. Younger than himself by at least two years, placing him around twenty-two.

That seemed too young for Mary Zehr. She had to be at least ten years older than him.

No, he’d definitely come to see Jenna.

As he drove through town, he passed John’s donut shop. The store was closed, but there was a light shining in John’s window. Making a decision, he stopped the buggy.

With heavy feet, Graham climbed the stairs and knocked.

Inside, he discovered that the light hadn’t come from the electric lights, but instead from a Coleman lantern.

Then he noticed that John’s shirt had no buttons. In fact, John looked Amish.

“Uncle John, what’s going on?”

“I decided it’s time to make the change.” Patting his shirt, he shook his head with a slight grimace. “I have to say I’d forgotten how to pin my shirt easily. Pricked my finger two times.”

Spying an open cardboard box on his otherwise bare kitchen table, Graham walked over and inspected it. “Whose clothes are these?”

“Jacob’s. I mean, they are your father’s.”

Graham lifted up one of the shirts. Though he figured it was silly, he pressed his nose to the cotton, on the off chance it would smell like his father.

But of course, it only smelled like the laundry soap his mother favored. “Did Mamm give you these shirts?”

“She did. She gave them to me a few weeks ago, I just hadn’t been ready to put them on.”

“What’s different about today?”

“Mary. I want her to be able to trust me . . .” His voice drifted off. “Graham, does my wearing your father’s old shirt distress you?”

He wanted to say no. He really did. He wanted to be more accepting of John, and not feel out of sorts that his uncle—who they’d never seen or heard from much at all until recently—now owned more of his
daed
’s old things than Graham did. “A little bit,” he finally said. “I never thought my
daed
’s things would go to someone besides Calvin, Loyal, or me.”

“If you had wanted them, why didn’t you take them before?”

“Mamm had them in her room. I thought she wanted the clothes near.”

“She had the box in your attic. It was obvious no one had looked at the clothes in years. She washed everything again before passing them on to me.”

Well, that was convenient. Caught off guard by his sudden anger, Graham put the shirt back in the box and picked up his hat. “I think I’ll be going now.”

“Wait. Why did you stop by?”

Graham couldn’t believe it—he’d almost forgotten. “Oh, no reason in particular.”

John’s brows snapped together. “Are you sure? You seem pretty upset. Is there anything new with work? Or Mattie . . .” He paused. “Or Jenna?”

Graham was almost tempted to smile. There was quite a lot new: He’d realized he was in love with Mattie, but Mattie was still seeing William, who he worked with.

And Jenna—well, he didn’t even know how he felt about Jenna anymore. For some reason, he didn’t hate her so much. Instead, he simply felt sorry for her, which caught him by surprise. He’d thought for sure that he’d never feel anything but anger toward the girl.

It was all terribly peculiar. “Everything’s mixed up,” he said.

“Do you want to talk about it? I’ve felt that way before.”

“No. Actually, I think I had better go see Mattie.”

“Are you upset with me? Do you want your father’s clothes back?”

Having his father’s clothes wouldn’t make the man return. Slowly, he shook his head. “No. Keep them,
Onkle.
They suit you.”

John’s eyes widened as he ran a hand down one of his sleeves. “You really think so?”

“I do,” he replied, surprising himself. “I think they suit you just fine.” Backing up, he grabbed the door handle. “
Gut naught,
Uncle John.”

“Gut naught,”
he replied. But didn’t move when Graham opened the door and left.