To Love and to Cherish (6 page)

Emma slapped another shirt on the line. This conversation had gone far enough. Their words wasted time, considering Thomas had chosen to take
no
for an answer. She felt peculiarly disappointed. Like she’d lost something she’d never even known she’d had.

Besides, who was Annie to talk? “What happened between you and Robert?” Emma asked. “Why did you say you would teach when you know Robert is going to ask you—”

“No, he’s not.” Annie jumped to her feet. She picked up the empty basket. “He’s not, I promise. I need to get back to the sewing before Catherine comes looking for me. She’s in a mood today.”

Catherine had been in a mood since the accident. The circumstances entitled her to a bit of an adjustment period. After all, she’d witnessed an event horrific beyond comprehension. “Don’t change the subject. Catherine is grieving. It’ll take time for her to recover, but she will. Why isn’t Robert going to ask you? You two have been going to the singings together for more than a year.”

Annie started walking toward the house.

“Annie, wait! Are you all right? Was he respectful?”

Annie stopped, but she didn’t turn around. The tears in her voice told the story. “Very respectful, when he came to tell me he was in love with another.”

With those tearful words she escaped back into the house.

In love with another. Emma stooped to pick up the dress she’d allowed to drop back into the basket. Poor Annie. Were the Shirack sisters destined to be alone?

At least she had her teaching. She had her students. The thought
lifted her heart. Another month and she could have the school cleaned and begin preparing for the new year. There would be a meeting of teachers from the nearby districts to talk about curriculum. Lesson plans to prepare. It was something to look forward—

“Emma.”

She froze, her hands still on the dress she’d thrown over the taut line. His voice hadn’t changed. The way he said her name as if the two syllables rolled from his tongue hadn’t changed.

God, this is not what I meant. I didn’t mean to improve my affairs of the heart by bringing him back. Not him
.

“Emma, please. I’d like to talk to you.”

She closed her eyes.
Put your arms down. Don’t just stand here
. Slowly, she turned and faced him. “How are you, Carl?”

“I’m getting there.” He stood half a dozen feet away, long, thin fingers loose at his side. Like always, his curly blond hair stuck out from under his hat, as unruly as the man could be. He wore Plain clothes again, not the slacks and button-down collar shirt he’d worn the day he came to tell her he’d made a decision. A decision that did not involve her. His pants were wrinkled. He was doing his own laundry, then. His parents were right to keep a distance until he proved himself. Otherwise they would only get hurt again, just as she would.

She turned around and picked up a shirt. No sense in wasting time. The laundry had to be hung while there was time for the sun to dry it. “Why are you here?”

Footsteps sounded. His shadow touched hers. She inhaled the clean scent of his soap and fought the urge to run into the house. Catherine and Annie were in there, sewing new dresses for the twins, the
thump-thump
of the foot pedal on the treadle machine drowning out the songs they sang as they worked. The little ones would be learning to mend. Her sisters couldn’t protect her from reliving a painful past.

“Emma, look at me, please. I need to tell you how sorry I am.”

She smoothed the wet cloth with a trembling hand and forced herself to meet his gaze. “Don’t be sorry for me. Be sorry for yourself and all that you missed.”

He frowned. Lines that hadn’t been there before crinkled around his eyes. He had the pale skin of a man who worked indoors. “You’re still angry with me.”

“No. I’m sad for you.”

“Don’t be sad. Be happy for me. I’m coming back. I’ve met with the bishop. He’s giving me a chance to prove I can return to our ways.”

That didn’t surprise Emma. The elders wanted the wayward sons and daughters to come home. They wanted the community to remain strong. But they also set a high standard. Carl would have to work hard to show them he was sincere and committed to the Ordnung. In the meantime, she should be supportive. That would be her role. Nothing more. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I
am
happy for you.” She picked up the basket. “I’m happy for your family. Your parents must be so pleased.”

“I’m staying in the
Groossdaadi Haus
until it’s determined that I will be successful in returning. Now that
Groossdaadi
and
Groossmammi
have passed on, it stands empty until Mudder and Daed’s turn. I’ll have regular sessions with Deacon Pierce and the bishop.” He stepped into her path. “What about you? Does it make
you
happy that I’m back—happy for you?”

She sidestepped him.
Happy
wasn’t a part of the swirling emotions inside her. Only
confused
and
uncertain
. “That is neither here nor there.”

“Don’t you want to know why I came back?”

She balanced the basket between them. “I would hope you came back to be reunited with your family and your community, to return to our ways instead of the world’s.”

“I did.” His eyes full of entreaty, he paused as if searching for words. “I also came back because of you. I couldn’t forget about you. I thought of you often over the years. I even wrote you letters. I could never bring myself to send them, but I wrote them.”

If he had sent the letters, would things have been different? She couldn’t fathom how. The distance between them would remain the same. Yet those letters would’ve meant everything to her. She worked to keep her voice steady for one syllable. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“You didn’t think about me when you made your decision to leave.” Good, her voice held no hint of tears. She lifted her chin and sought his gaze directly. “Why would you think of me later? You abandoned what we had. You made your choice.”

“I know. That’s why I couldn’t send the letters. I knew it would only make it harder for you. But I thought you would forgive me.”

Forgiveness. There it was again. She hung her head.
God, forgive me, please
. “I try. Every day I try. I truly do. I know I must.” Even if she forgave him, Emma couldn’t imagine how she would come to trust him again. As much as a certain part of her—the part in her heart—wanted to trust. “That doesn’t mean we can pick up where we left off. I’m older. So are you and who knows—”

“Who knows what worldly things I did out there?” He finished the sentence for her just as he had in the days when they’d gone to the singings together and he’d driven her home in his buggy, still laughing at the antics of their friends.

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

He had the audacity to smile. “Yes, you did. You are still my innocent, imaginative girl.”

Anger flooded her. He had been gone a long time, and she had grown up in his absence. He could not presume to know her. “No, I’m not—”

“Emma, I went to community college. I worked on computers.” He took the basket from her hands. To her surprise, she let him. He stepped closer to her. Close enough for her to smell the soapy scent of his clothes. “I worked for a grocery store chain as an accountant. I went to a Mennonite church. Nothing I did shames me or you. I’m still me. I’m still Carl.”

His hand came up. Emma took two steps back. Carl had always been a little more forward than gave her comfort. Keeping herself chaste from his touch had been a challenge. Four years out there in the Englisch world hadn’t changed that. “Did you own a car? Did you live in a house with electricity? Did you watch television and go to
the movies? Did you fly in an airplane? Did you drink beer and dance in a club? Did you play war games on a computer? Did you court an Englisch woman? I’m not your girl anymore.”

She stopped, her breathing ragged. So much pent up for so long. She’d been so sure she’d managed to forgive him. But she was no better. Her inability to forgive him, to forgive the truck driver, to forgive period, showed that. And what did it matter if Carl had done those things? If he had embraced the Englisch world it was no concern of hers. She hastened her steps toward the house.

He fell into step next to her, his presence like a splinter driven deep into the palm of her hand. “I did some of those things, not all, and none of them turned me into someone you can’t know and like. The deacons are giving me a chance to prove myself. Can’t you do the same? Let me do this for you. Let me prove myself.”

Emma was almost to the back door. She hesitated, then turned to face him. “If those things were so wonderful, why did you forsake them to come back?”

His long, thin nose wrinkled. “It’s hard to explain.” His gaze roved over the fields across the road instead of meeting hers head-on. “It was the noise.”

The blaring of horns? The screaming of electric guitars? The babble of voices on a television? Were those things enough to bring a man back to his faith and family? “The noise?”

“There’s so much noise in the Englisch world. I missed the blessed assurance I always found in the quiet. I missed being able to hear God, to feel His presence in the rustling sounds of the leaves on the trees when even the slightest breeze picks them up.” He averted his gaze. “I missed the nicker of the horses and the lowing of the cattle. Can you understand that?”

Emma gripped the basket tightly. He’d always had a way with words. Unlike Thomas. That stray thought brought her up short. What did Thomas have to do with this? Annie’s silly meddling had opened a door Emma had always thought of as nonexistent. Thanks to Annie, she now knew her silent admiration and her
unspoken wondering were shared. But what to do with that knowledge—that was an entirely different ball of tangled yarn. She forced herself to focus on the man in front of her. Carl looked so repentant. He looked…tired and world-weary.

Older and wiser. They were all older and wiser. With each passing day. He had been so easy to love once. Now she feared the pain that emotion might bring. “There is one thing you can do for me.”

His face lit up with that broad smile that once had turned her heart to mush. “Anything.”

She forced her gaze over his shoulder. “I need you to talk to Josiah. Share with him why you came back. Maybe that will help him make the decision he needs to make.”

The smile died. His gaze flitted back to the fields of alfalfa, corn, and wheat. Then his emerald eyes held hers, filled with a meaning she couldn’t interpret. “For you, gladly. With all my heart, I’ll try.”

She forced herself to break the mesmerizing hold his gaze had on hers. “Let’s keep our hearts out of it, shall we?”

T
homas tugged gently on the reins and brought the horses to a stop in front of the Shirack home. Tossing her regal head, the roan snorted and stomped. She seemed as agitated as Thomas felt. The oppressive July heat didn’t help. His shirt was soaked with sweat and stuck to his back. Beads of perspiration ran from under his hat into his eyes.

Shirack family members, along with their neighbors, swarmed the back end of the wagon and pulled off boxes of Luke and Leah’s belongings. Annie and Catherine trotted down the front steps, the twins right behind them. No Emma, though. Good. That was good. Really, it was.

Maybe Thomas wouldn’t have to get down. With all these hands, maybe they really didn’t need his help to carry the table and chairs into the house where surely Emma was waiting to tell them where she wanted the furniture placed.

It would be unneighborly not to at least offer to help, he chided himself silently. In the two weeks since he’d seen Emma’s reaction to Carl Freiling’s appearance at the cemetery, Thomas had been careful to avoid her. Prayer service was easy, with the men on one side and the women on the other. When she took her turn at the produce stand, he toiled in the fields. This time of year there was no shortage of work to
be done. The soybeans were planted, but he still had milo to harvest and alfalfa that needed baling. He wished he were in the fields now. Hard labor had its own rewards. Exhaustion numbed the feelings he wrestled with in the wee hours of the morning.

Luke had managed to sell his house. Luke needed Thomas to be there to help him move his family back home. It was a bittersweet time for his friend. Thomas realized that. He wanted to tell him that he respected his choice to give up the home he’d made with Leah and the boys and return to the family farm. But Thomas had no words for things like that.

Slapping at flies that buzzed his ears, Thomas lowered himself to the ground and stomped toward the back of the wagon. At the corner stood Emma, directing traffic. She’d slipped into the crowd of helpers without his noticing. Her eyes made brighter blue by her indigo dress, she looked cool and unfazed by the moist heat. She had a box of dishes in her arms.

“That’s too heavy for you.” Ignoring the desire to run the other direction, Thomas held out his hands. He was no coward. “Let me take it.”

A deep, red blush darkened her cheeks and raced all the way to the roots of her blonde hair just below her kapp. “I’ve got it.”

He tugged at the box. She didn’t release it. “Let me, please.”

“If you want—”

“If you want—”

They let go at the same time. The box smashed to the ground, with a crash that told Thomas not all the carefully wrapped dishes were going to survive.

“Oh, no! Oh, no!” Emma sank to the ground. “How clumsy of me.”

“It’s my fault. I’m sorry.” His neck and face burning with embarrassment, Thomas squatted next to her. “I’ll get it.”

“I think that’s how this whole thing started,” she snapped.

“My fault.” Embarrassment melded into a knot of misery in his midsection. Her reaction to his presence was obvious. She didn’t want him around. After all, Carl Freiling had returned. “I’ll get out of your way.”

Emma didn’t answer. Her head was bent, her fingers busy picking up a few shards of china that had escaped their wrappings. Every tiny piece had to be found so the children playing in the yard wouldn’t cut their feet.