The Survivor (3 page)

And when Calvin left, he lay back on his mattress again and closed his eyes, trying to relax. But then his head started to pound as a very dark thought filtered through him.

What if Mattie heard of Jenna’s rumor? What if she heard and didn’t believe him? What would become of the two of them, then? Would they be driven apart before they’d really ever had a chance to begin?

Chapter Three

“A
bel, do be careful of the cars,” Mary warned. “Some of the drivers don’t pay enough attention to the road, they’re so busy with their coffee cups and telephones.”

“I am careful,” he muttered under his breath as he continued to dart forward on the side of the road, barely walking with her at all. Hardly acknowledging her at all.

Mary bit her lip and prayed for God to give her direction. Here they were, walking together like they’d always done for years, but everything felt different. And she couldn’t foist the complete blame on Abel’s growing pains, neither.

Much of the confusion stemmed from herself.

Yes, more than ever, she felt like she was at a crossroads in her life, and she was completely at a loss.

Of course, it would’ve been better if she knew what she wanted for her future. Or if she knew what John Weaver wanted.

Taken off guard by the direction of her thoughts, she swallowed a lump in her throat. When had she begun to care so much about John’s feelings for her?

When had you not?
a small, secret voice whispered in her ear, reminding her of the things she hoped and dreamed about in the middle of the night.

After all, everything that had been happening was her doing. She’d been the one who had been visiting John Weaver at the Kaffi Haus. She’d been the one who had asked him to spend time with Abel, and to help give him some guidance.

And now she was the one who had invited him to supper on Monday night.

Now it seemed so foolish. Oh, why had she asked him over, anyway? What would everyone say? Even if John was almost a part of the community, he wasn’t. Not really.

Looking at her boy, now striding a good five paces in front of her, his back so straight and slim and proud, she bit her lip. What if Abel wasn’t happy about this upcoming dinner? What would she do then?

“Abel . . .” she began, knowing that she needed to talk to him about John, and about his feelings for the man. The last thing in the world she wanted was for him to feel slighted or neglected.

“I’m fine walking on the road, Mother.”

“Oh, I know that. It’s just . . . Well, I was wondering—”

He turned around, interrupting both her thoughts and her sluggish tongue. “Mamm, do we still have to visit with Aunt Frieda and Uncle Benjamin tonight?”

Glad he was finally looking at her instead of pretending she didn’t exist, and glad for the reprieve from her thoughts, she nodded. “Of course. We always go over there once a week.”

“Why?”

She didn’t know why, exactly. Frieda and Benjamin were Paul’s aunt and uncle. She’d clung to the habit after her husband had died because it was all she knew. But now that it was eight years after William’s death, she had to admit it did seem a little bit strange. Though Abel liked the older couple well enough, it was becoming obvious that the three of them hadn’t developed the close relationship that Mary had once envisioned they would.

And though the couple was terribly kind to her, it had been obvious for some time that they never expected Mary to ever remarry. No, they obviously hoped that she would simply grow older and be reasonably content as her husband’s memory faded just a bit more with each passing year.

“Abel, I suppose we keep going because it’s a habit,” she said at last. “Are you trying to tell me that you’d rather not have supper with them every week?”

“Maybe.” Abel kicked a rock, sending it skittering in front of him, kicking up dust. She watched it roll jaggedly, careening this way and that.

Kind of like her life at the moment.

Finally, she caught up with it. Mary paused for a second, debating whether to kick at it, or step over it. A part of her yearned to kick it with the toe of her boot. Kick it hard, just for the simple joy of watching it fly up into the air and land far ahead of Abel.

But most likely he wouldn’t know what to think about that. Most likely he wouldn’t see her enthusiasm. Only wonder why she was acting childishly.

She left the rock where it was. “I thought you enjoyed being with Aunt Frieda and
Onkle
William. I know you enjoy their dog Skip.”

“I like Skip fine.”

Well, there was her answer. Making a decision, she said, “I will tell Frieda that we’re only going to visit there one Wednesday evening a month. How does that sound?”

“Better.” After kicking another rock, Abel added, “I just wish sometimes we did something different.”

Now was her chance. “Well, son, soon we will be doing something different.” Inserting false merriment in her voice, she added, “We’re going to have a guest for supper on Monday evening.”

“This coming Monday?”

“Jah.”

“Who?” he asked over his shoulder.

“John Weaver.”

He stopped. “John from the donut shop?”

“Yes. I, uh, thought it would be nice to have him over. The two of you seemed to enjoy spending time together.”

“But he’s English.”

“I know.” Of course she also knew that he was considering adopting their ways. Or, perhaps, reacquainting himself with their ways?

“Why is he coming?” he asked, his voice full of suspicion.

“Because, child, I asked him to. That is reason enough.” Now that they were side by side again, she patted his arm.

“Why? Is it because of me?” Distrust flared in his eyes, hot and suspicious. “Are you still worried about me? That’s why you had me work with him some, isn’t it?”

Her invitation had had nothing to do with Abel, she realized. In her own way, she’d been yearning for something different, too. “It is because John has become a gut friend and I am tired of eating donuts.”

“Like that makes sense,” Abel muttered. But as they began walking again, Mary noticed that he continued to look at her curiously. As if he didn’t quite trust her, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to think about this new development. Or how to react.

Well, that was okay with her. She wasn’t sure about her relationship with John Weaver, either. And she certainly didn’t know how to react around him.

Not at all.

“H
ave you heard the news?” Corrine asked Mattie after they’d gotten their Trail bologna sandwiches and were sitting side by side at a table eating lunch after church services at the Millers.

Mattie took a listless bite of her sandwich. Even though she was done with her chemotherapy treatments, nothing tasted all that appetizing. She ate now to try and gain weight and to keep her health. Hardly ever did she find enjoyment in the meals.

At the moment, though, even the silly worries of her community grated on her nerves. Sometimes she was so tired of people talking about each other and making predictions about their futures.

“What news is that? The news about Abraham’s new horse or the Lunds’ naughty four-year-old?” she said drily.

Corrine leaned closer. “I’m talking about Jenna Yoder’s news, of course.”

Feeling a twinge of unease, Mattie put her sandwich back on her plate. Though Graham had told her things were over between him and Jenna, perhaps he’d only been telling her that to spare her feelings.

Resolutely, she prepared herself to hear more wonderful-
gut
news about Graham’s past infatuation. “What about her?”

“She’s expecting.”

Her mouth suddenly feeling dry, she coughed. “Truly?”

“Oh,
jah
. And she has no sweetheart to speak of, you know.”

No sweetheart besides Graham. Confusion waged war inside her head as she sought to keep her voice and manner only mildly interested. “Well, I imagine her parents are mighty upset.”

“Well, of course they are.”

Mattie took another bite of her sandwich, simply to gain another moment or two to coax her emotions back in line. “Who is the father? I haven’t heard of her seeing anyone other than Graham.”

“People are saying it’s Graham,” Corrine murmured. “Some are saying that they’ve been meeting in private, without anyone knowing.”

“That hardly makes sense.”

“I know. But from what I understand, she’s told people the babe is his.”

Mattie’s hands shook as she tried to process that information. “We’re talking about my Graham, right?” When Corrine’s eyes widened, Mattie rephrased the question. “I mean, my, uh, neighbor.”

“Of course I’m speaking of Graham Weaver.” Corrine picked up her sandwich and took a big bite. “The news surprised me, too, it did. I have to tell ya, I’ve always thought there was something special between you and Graham. I thought one day you two would see past your jokes and friendship and turn things into something more.”

Once upon a time, back when she’d been small, Mattie had hoped things between them would turn romantic.

But as the years passed, she’d been more grateful for his friendship. Though sometimes she’d had an uncomfortable stinging sensation when he’d talked about Jenna, she’d pushed that feeling away. After all, she wanted him to be happy; he certainly deserved that.

And then there was that moment in the elevator . . . She pushed the thought aside. Yes, what she needed to do was concentrate on Graham’s happiness. And given this news, she needed to get accustomed to the idea that Jenna and Graham would be announcing their intentions to marry soon.

When they married, all of their fun, easygoing time together would be in the past. As they’d both assumed it would.

But she wasn’t ready to share all that with Corrine.

And, to her surprise, she also wasn’t ready to picture Graham and Jenna together forever. “Perhaps the rumor isn’t true,” she said quickly. “You know how people like to talk.”

“People do talk. But this news is true. Jenna is with child.”

“No. I mean, it’s not possible that her sweetheart is Graham.”

“I know that might make you upset, but you can’t deny the facts. Graham did see Jenna for a while.”

Mattie hated that here again gossip and innuendo were taking center stage. “That may be true, but Graham wouldn’t . . . I mean, he didn’t . . .” Oh, but she was so flustered! Too flustered to even contemplate that he’d been intimate with Jenna. “He’s just not like that. And believe me, I know Graham well.”

Corrine’s eyebrows rose as she picked up a celery stalk and crunched. “You might be right,” she said slowly. “After all, I did hear that he said it wasn’t his. But why would Jenna make up such a thing?”

“I don’t know.” After all, there was no reason. In fact, Mattie had never heard of anyone outright lying about their circumstances. In their community, each person took care to be the type of man or woman to be proud of. And though no one was perfect, Mattie and her friends had always tried to act in a respectable manner.

“So you really hadn’t heard about the babe?”

“Of course not.”

“I just thought, you and Graham are such
gut
friends . . .”

“We are friends, but he’s never said a word to me about Jenna except that he wasn’t seeing her anymore.”

Of course, that might have been because he’d known Mattie was a tiny bit jealous of the woman.

Corrine nodded. “Well, most likely Graham didn’t wish to upset you.”

Mattie grimaced. That could be true. But either way, she was definitely upset. Scanning the area, she attempted to find the girl they were speaking of. But no matter how hard she looked, she didn’t see Jenna’s usual navy-colored dress. “Where is Jenna, anyway?”

“Not here.” Lowering her voice, Corrine said, “I heard that her parents were so upset with her, they made her move out of their home.”

“What?”

“
Jah!
I heard they’re terribly upset with her for being so foolish, and at Graham because he hasn’t married her yet.”

Mattie looked around. She sighed when she finally spotted Graham sitting at a long table with his whole family. But instead of talking a mile a minute like usual, he was sitting morosely. A line had formed between his brows, and he was glaring at his parents.

And with that line, a thin strand of worry began to snake through her. Maybe it was true. Maybe he hadn’t been honest with her or about his feelings for Jenna?

“Oh, my. I wonder what Graham is thinking.” Shifting her chair, she contemplated getting up and walking over to him. But even from her angle, Mattie could see that he was the focus of everyone’s attention. If she walked over, even more tongues would start wagging.

Corrine leaned closer. “I feel sorry for him. Jenna is headstrong. They are going to have a rocky life together.”

Yes. He and Jenna were not a good match. “Perhaps they won’t marry,” she said slowly.

Vegetables done, Corrine picked up a peanut butter cookie. “Of course they have to marry. If they didn’t, what would happen to Jenna? She doesn’t really have a choice, you know.”

No choice. Mattie hated that idea. When she was small, she always thought being older meant a person got to make more decisions.