Morning Star

by Charlotte Hubbard

  When Red’s hazel eyes widened, Gabe felt himself falling headlong into their depths . . . into the soul of this woman who’d so effortlessly captured his admiration and imagination. Her lips parted as if she were ready to speak, yet no words came out. It was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.

  He cradled her face in his hand, leaning closer until her breath fanned his cheek—until he was gently brushing her lips with his. Red’s soft moan coaxed him to deepen the kiss. Gabe was vaguely aware that his guitar had slipped off his lap, and when Red wove her fingers through his hair he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. Their kiss lasted for several long, sweet moments, yet it ended too soon.

  Red eased away first, gasping softly. “Gut thing we’re sitting behind the barn instead of on the riverbank where somebody might spot us,” she remarked in a breathy voice.

  “Jah, folks at church would probably say we’re leading each other astray, talking and kissing when we’re supposed to maintain separation during our bann,” Gabe muttered as he shifted away from her. “If you were any other girl—”

  “I am who I am,” she put in. “And I’ll probably be unemployed if your dat gets the least inkling about our being together, if only because you defended my art.”

  “Why is our relationship yet another thing we have to hide—especially when we’ve been friends for years?” he retorted vehemently. “If it weren’t for the Old Order’s archaic, stupid rules—”

  He stopped there, sensing he might say something that would further upset her. Regina Miller was indeed who she was—and he respected her immensely for realigning herself with a faith he was rapidly losing patience with. “Denki for going along with this wild idea about indulging our talents just one more time,” he whispered. “It wasn’t the right thing to do—”

  “It was exactly what I needed today,” she put in with a rueful laugh. “Let’s don’t spoil it by acting all sanctimonious or beating ourselves up. How about if you play me another song while I finish this sketch? I have no idea what I’ll do with it, but for now I want your music to inspire my drawing.”

  Gabe blinked. She’d suggested the perfect antidote to his qualms. Hadn’t Red always been a calm, levelheaded problem solver—even before he’d known about her artistic abilities?

  He picked up his guitar again and began to strum slowly, playing through a chord progression in six-eight time as he worked up the courage to sing the words. Why should he feel self-conscious about singing to Red? She heard him every Sunday at church.

  Yet it was different as they sat behind the Kraybills’ barn, still thrumming with their first kiss. Maybe she wouldn’t even like the song, but Gabe drew in a breath anyway. “‘O the deep, deep love of Jesus,’” he began softly. He’d played it so many times, he closed his eyes and let the melody carry him along. “‘Vast, unmeasured, boundless, free . . . rolling as a mighty ocean in its fullness over me.’”

  As she listened, Red relaxed against the barn with her eyes closed. The dreamlike expression on her face made Gabe long to kiss her again—yet it seemed a sacrilege to begin a song about the love of Christ and then interrupt it to indulge an affection that had blossomed as quickly as the wildflowers she’d sketched on her pad.

  When he finished the hymn, he sighed. “That wasn’t exactly the most romantic song a guy could sing to impress a gal he likes,” he murmured apologetically.

  Red’s eyes fluttered opened, clear and shining. “Ah, but even if it was about Jesus, it was a love song. And it’s a beautiful tune,” she added.

  Gabe smiled. “Something about the minor key speaks to me when I’m feeling troubled. The Methodist hymnal listing said it was composed in the late eighteen hundreds, but it feels a lot more . . . relevant than the hymns we sing in our church.” He gazed into the distance, not sure he should voice any more of his doubts. Yet he sensed Red would listen objectively even if she found his ideas unsettling.

  “Sometimes, on the Sundays when we don’t have a service, I think about going to the Methodist church—to sit way in the back and take it all in—but in my Plain clothes, I’d look pretty odd to them,” he added solemnly. “I’ve made it as far as sitting outside the back exit of the sanctuary, where I can hear the congregation singing as the pipe organ plays. It’s so magnificent I can hardly breathe, Red.”

  He looked at her, grateful that her expression registered interest rather than shock or revulsion. “Is it wrong to want to worship God with glorious music?” he whispered. “Will the Lord condemn me to eternal damnation because I want to join a different faith? I—I’m facing a lot of attitude adjustments if I’m ever to feel totally positive about remaining in the Old Order.”

  Red’s hazel eyes widened briefly at the way he ended his sentence, yet she took her time to consider what he’d said. “I don’t know the answer to that,” she admitted. “But Gabe, if you left our church, I’d really miss you. Everyone would.”

  His heart swelled at her admission. “Jah, and my leaving would throw a wrench into the furniture factory, and Mamm’s life, as well—which is the main reason I’ve kept my secrets to myself for so long. I could start up my own furniture shop somewhere else to support myself, but I’d be creating a permanent wound in my family that would never heal.”

  She was nodding, her pencil lying loose on her sketch pad as she clasped her hands prayerfully in her lap. “We have a lot of thinking to do, you and I. At least we can discuss these matters without getting as upset as our families— and other church members—do. If any of the preachers—especially Uncle Clarence and Ammon—had overheard this conversation, I suspect we’d be expelled before we even completed our shunning.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a very forgiving, Christian way to handle us, does it?”

  His question hung in the air unanswered for several moments.

  “How about if we get a sandwich at the diner in Higher Ground?” Gabe suggested. “It’s a pretty sure bet we won’t see folks we know there.”

  Nodding, Red gathered up her materials. He felt a pang of regret that after years of knowing each other, they were skulking around, avoiding their church friends—and their families—when they should be celebrating the discovery of their kindred spirits.

  If push came to shove—if the Old Order church leaders expelled him for continuing to follow his musical yearnings—would Red go with him?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Regina hurried along the shoulder of the county highway Tuesday afternoon, a white sack in her hand as she headed to The Marketplace. She’d had no time to cook anything for the maidels’ potluck, so she’d chosen an assortment of candies and cookies at the bulk store after work. Her hands and dress were messier than usual because Martin had startled her by coming into the staining room when she’d been carrying an open container of walnut stain—which had splattered all over her. She hoped her friends wouldn’t be too put off by the fumes.

  “Regina, wait up! Come ride with me!” a familiar voice called from behind her.

  Lydianne was waving from her open rig. A few moments later, Regina climbed in on the passenger side and the two of them continued along the county highway, which was busy with what counted as rush hour traffic in Morning Star. Whatever Lydianne was bringing to their supper smelled heavenly, but Regina didn’t get a chance to ask about it.

  “I looked all over for you after work, but you’d disappeared,” Lydianne remarked.

  Regina nodded. “I’d hoped to be out the door right at quitting time, but Martin came in for a little chat,” she said. “Seems he was making sure I’d actually been at the factory working these past couple of days, because he hadn’t seen me—”

  “Because you were trying to maintain the necessary separation,” Lydianne put in with an exasperated sigh. “If I’ve told him that once, I’ve said it at least three times since yesterday. So . . . hopefully he wasn’t hinting at firing you?”

  Regina shook her head, but she felt none too confident about the real motive behind her boss’s appearance.
“When I assured him I wasn’t the sort to miss work without telling him, he went off onto a tangent about Gabe being gone and how many orders were piling up in his absence,” she replied. “I wasn’t sure what to say about that, considering Martin was the one who ordered Gabe not to come to the factory until his attitude improved.”

  “Jah, I’m guessing things at the Flaud house are tense,” Lydianne murmured. “Doesn’t help that Delbert Plank had to go to the clinic for ten stitches today, so he can’t use his right hand for a long while.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Martin might be asking us girls to operate some of the shop machinery if we lose any more of the men.”

  “Maybe he should reconsider what he said to Gabe,” Regina said softly. “I-if I were in Gabe’s shoes, I’d feel like I’d been cast out by my family as surely as by the congregation.”

  Lydianne looked speculatively at Regina. “Martin expected his son would come around immediately to apologize. The way you’re telling it, I’m wondering if you know more than the rest of us about Gabe’s feelings.”

  Regina nipped her lip. She’d already said too much to the astute young woman beside her.

  Checking the traffic in both directions, Lydianne steered her mare into a left turn to approach the white plank fence surrounding The Marketplace. “All right, I’ll come clean,” she said with a chuckle. “I spotted you and Gabe in his buggy yesterday afternoon. And I’m happy for you both, Regina.”

  Lydianne might as well have punched her in the stomach. “Oh my,” Regina gasped. “Please don’t let on about—”

  “I won’t say a word, Regina.”

  “—especially to Martin, because—”

  “Especially not to Martin,” Lydianne assured her, “and not to our friends this evening, either, unless you say something first. They’d be delighted to hear about you two being together, though. Gabe’s such a nice guy—and he did rise to your defense on Sunday.”

  “Why are you already making us out to be a couple, Lydianne?” Regina demanded, more stridently than she had intended.

  Shrugging playfully, Lydianne hopped down to open the gate, which had been left unchained by the maidels who’d already arrived. After Regina clucked for the mare to pull the rig through the opening, Lydianne closed the gate again and hooked the padlock on the chain without snapping it shut. She was still chuckling as she clambered back into the driver’s side.

  “Deny it if you want to, girlfriend, but you two were coming back into Morning Star from wherever you’d been, looking like you’d had a fine time,” she said. “And I think it’s wonderful, Regina. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Regina’s cheeks went hot. She chuckled nervously, hoping she could indeed trust her longtime friend. “Okay, so I couldn’t come to a Marketplace meeting last night because I did load up my painting supplies, like I told you,” she said in a rush. “Gabe suggested that we should take his guitar and my art things to the thrift store together—to hold each other accountable, you know—so we were on our way to do that. But he drove past the turnoff.”

  She exhaled with a mixture of frustration and exhilaration. “I spent the afternoon sketching down by the river, while he played his guitar and sang. We really are going to get rid of our stuff, Lydianne, but it didn’t happen yesterday as intended.”

  Her friend’s expression softened. “That sounds so romantic,” she whispered. “But be careful, Regina. If I spotted you together, other folks could, too.”

  As they pulled around behind the large red stable that housed The Marketplace, Regina wondered if anyone else had seen her and Gabe. When Jo and the Helfing twins called out their greetings, however, she composed her face so she’d give nothing else away. She loved all these young women dearly, but if they all found out she’d spent time with Gabe, the news was bound to spread.

  “Gut to see you two!” Molly called out.

  “My, but that’s an attractive dress you’re wearing, Regina!” Marietta teased.

  Regina couldn’t help laughing. “Thanks to Martin, I sloshed stain all over myself today,” she said as she hopped to the ground with her white sack. “When you see what I brought for our meal, you’ll know I cook every bit as well as I mind my appearance, too. Grabbed some candy and cookies at the bulk store.”

  “I didn’t cook, either,” Lydianne put in as she reached behind the seat. “I called ahead for pizza and picked it up on my way out of town.”

  The twins clapped their hands, laughing. “We love pizza!” Marietta crowed.

  “Mostly because it’s not made from the broken noodles left after we bagged them up today,” Molly remarked as she held up a casserole covered in foil. “You know how we always bring a noodle-and-cheese dish, jah?”

  Jo was at the back door, chuckling as she held it open for them. “Mamm and I have zucchini coming out our ears already, and some green beans left from canning yesterday,” she said. “So I sautéed them together with oil and seasonings. Seems we’ve covered all the main food groups—and we’re all here together, which is the most important ingredient for a gut potluck.”

  As Regina followed her friends up to the loft, she felt a twinge of sadness when she spotted the empty shop area where NatureScapes had been. She was grateful that the other maidels still wanted her to participate in their meeting despite her bann, however. As the five of them gathered around the old table in the office, Regina realized she was hungry for more than the assortment of food they were setting out.

  “How did things go last Saturday? There was a big produce auction, jah?” she asked as she popped open her clamshell containers of chocolate chip cookies, brownies, and fudge. “After the talking-to I got from Saul and the Slabaughs on the previous Saturday, I didn’t think I’d better show my face.”

  Molly put out a stack of paper plates. “It was our busiest day yet,” she replied. “We need to seriously increase our noodle production to keep up with the demand here.”

  “The Wengerds brought a couple of wagons loaded with baskets of beautiful veggies from their fields and greenhouses,” Jo said enthusiastically. “Several folks from church had big baskets of produce, as well as people from as far away as Cedar Creek and Clearwater. Jude was our auctioneer, of course.”

  “Customers were already asking when the next produce auction will be,” Lydianne said with a nod. “I think we should allow Nelson and Michael to set dates that will work well for them.”

  “But we missed you, Regina,” Marietta said with a sad smile. She opened a bag of disposable forks and spoons. “Lots of folks were asking what had happened to the wonderful paintings in your store—”

  “And that brings us to our first order of business tonight,” Jo said as she removed the foil from her casserole. “We’d dearly love it if you could come help us on Saturdays, Regina—act as a floater, perhaps, when some of us could use an extra pair of hands. The preachers surely couldn’t object to that, because you’d no longer be painting your pictures.”

  Regina was so hungry she’d snatched a slice of pizza from the box, but she paused before taking her first bite. “I’m not supposed to speak with anyone or hand them anything, or—”

  “It’s like Gabe said on Sunday,” Jo interrupted with a smile. “You can certainly handle transactions with English customers, ain’t so?”

  “But won’t church members realize you’ve been communicating with me, if I’m working with you?” Regina asked pensively. “I don’t want to get you in trouble. I really appreciate it that you’ve invited me tonight, and that you’re not . . . shutting me out.”

  Molly grasped Regina’s wrist, her expression earnest. “We just can’t do that, Regina,” she insisted. “Who will stand up for us maidels if we don’t stand together?”

  Everyone around the table nodded as they began to eat.

  “I think we can agree to not talk to you while you’re helping us—at least in public, while anyone’s looking,” Lydianne suggested after thinking about it.

  “But that won’t stop us from win
king or making faces or sticking our tongues out at you!” Molly teased. “What’re friends for?”

  Laughter filled the room and lifted Regina’s spirits. Where would she be without these loyal friends? They ate in silence for a few minutes before the conversation continued.

  “I can understand that you might not want to come since you wouldn’t be earning any income, though,” Lydianne said pensively. She pulled steaming slices of pizza from the box and positioned one of them on Regina’s plate.

  “Jah, there’s that,” Regina agreed as she spooned up some zucchini casserole. “But as I recall, Lydianne, you’re not making any money here, either, because you volunteered to do the bookkeeping and to help the Flauds—or whoever needs you.”

  “We might have a solution to that,” Jo said with a cat-like smile.

  Everyone watched Jo fill her plate again, sensing she enjoyed making them wait for the explanation that had put a lilt in her voice. When Jo glanced up at them over a fresh slice of pizza, she began chuckling so hard she could barely chew.

  “All right, so we have some gut news!” she announced. “First, the owners of the bulk store and Koenig’s Krafts want to open stalls here at The Marketplace, starting this Saturday—”

  “Oh, that’s fabulous!” Lydianne said as the others nodded.

  “—and second, Margaret Shetler and Delores Flaud have asked to hold their annual family reunions here this summer,” Jo continued happily. “So we’ll be needing someone to manage these events, and we’ll need to set the fees for using the facility. It seems only right that the person who becomes our event manager should be paid for her time, from those fees.”

  Everyone began talking at once, filling the office with happy chatter. Regina was pleased about this news, even if the prospect of managing family events didn’t particularly appeal to her. Once she was stuck in her uncle’s guest room, however, it would get her out of the house more often.