by Jerry Eicher
CHAPTER 21
THE SATURDAY MORNING A WEEK AND A HALF AFTER THE WEDDING, Mary slipped out of the house the minute the breakfast dishes were washed and put away. Lavina gave her a teasing smile. “I’ll be up with Leon in an hour.”
Mary felt the heat burning on her neck, and once she was outside, turned her face into the gentle breeze drifting up from the south. There was no shame in the feelings she had for Marcus, and even the weather agreed, wrapping its warmth around her. It was unseasonably warm for late November and there hadn’t been a drop of rain since Silvia’s wedding, as if the Lord wished to bestow His abundant favor on that union and on marriage in general. She had not always agreed with such sentiment, but something had shifted within her since Silvia’s wedding. What a blessed display of the Lord’s grace Silvia’s marriage had been. The Lord was indeed restoring and healing hearts. Silvia’s happy face last Sunday when she greeted her children at the church service had made everyone in the room smile. Today the two families would be officially united, after Silvia’s belongings and her children were moved over to John Beachy’s place. John’s children would be returning from a cousin’s home, where they had been staying since the wedding.
Mary slowed her steps. Marcus had been waving to her this past week when she walked back and forth from the schoolhouse, but beyond that had not made an appearance. The weather was to blame, she had told herself, at least partly. The smallest fire in the stove took the chill out of the air in the mornings. Besides that, the fall field work was in full swing, which was always a rushed time for the farmers before winter set in. Marcus and Mose had been out with their teams from the crack of dawn until the time arrived for the evening chores. She had seen Marcus go back out to work in the fields after supper. She should have gone over and offered her help with the chores, but she hadn’t dared. She had done what could be done on the day of the wedding. Marcus must be given time to absorb the realities of their new relationship. She was at peace. The Lord was in charge, and there was no rush. Marcus had come a long way since she set foot in the community, and, she had to admit, so had she. She could wait.
The memory of Marcus’s touch in her hand lingered. She had savored fully his closeness, his smile, and his strength. She had so wanted Marcus to broach the question of their future on the day of the wedding, but he hadn’t. Marcus had to feel what she had felt, and would open his heart fully to what work the Lord was so clearly doing in both of their hearts. She would have to show him that the way was safe. That despite their obvious differences, there was hope.
“How are you doing?” Mam had written this week.
“Okay,” she had written back. Mam wanted to know more, but the time to write about Marcus and the feelings stirring in her heart had not arrived. She could hear the questions her sisters asked Mam when they met at the monthly sewing or the Sunday services.
“Is there any sign that Mary has found love?”
“Has she mentioned meeting someone?” another one doubtlessly asked.
“It has to happen,” Esther would say in her all-knowing voice.
Heat crept into Mary’s face thinking about Marcus. She slowed her walk even more at the Yoders’ driveway. Marcus was handsome, and a good catch. He had a deep voice and an honest heart. Her sisters would be impressed. There was no doubt there. She could already hear Lois coo, “I see that waiting was worth it for you. That’s what you’ve been up to?”
Mary quickened her steps when a buggy appeared in the distance, followed by another one. In front of her, the barn door opened and Mose appeared.
“You’re early,” he said with a tired grin.
“Not really.” She motioned over her shoulder towards the arriving buggies. “So are you ready for the big move?”
Mose shrugged. “This is the only home I’ve ever known, but it’s okay.”
“Life moves on.” Mary tried for a lighthearted tone.
“It does,” he agreed. “Marcus will have the full load of the farm on his shoulders.”
“You might come back to help sometimes?” She tilted her head at him.
He nodded. “I told Marcus I would, at least for this fall. A few weeks, you know. He hasn’t agreed. Not yet.”
“He can be stubborn.”
Mose laughed, and moved toward the arriving buggies. “Marcus is in the barn finishing the chores,” he said over his shoulder.
It was an invitation of sorts, even if Marcus had not said the words. Mary opened the barn door and moved into the dusty interior, following the thumping sound of stalls being mucked out. Marcus was bent over his fork when she turned the corner, but appeared not to have heard her approach.
“Goot morning,” she said when he paused to catch his breath.
He turned with a tentative smile. “How are you?”
“It’s a beautiful morning for your mam’s move.”
“That it is.” He straightened his back.
“How are you doing?” she asked. “Hard at work, I see, as usual.”
He laughed. “What else is there to do?”
“Ah . . .” Mary hesitated. She wanted to say, Living. Enjoying life. Loving people.
“You are early,” he said.
“Leon and Lavina are coming soon. Looks like there will be plenty of help.”
He nodded. “The community at its best.”
“The Lord’s blessing is on your mam’s marriage. You know that, don’t you?”
He smiled. “I am thankful for how that day turned out. You were there and . . .” He seemed to falter. “It wasn’t as hard as I expected.”
She stepped closer. “The Lord is a great healer. He is showing mercy right now.”
“The Lord is,” he agreed. “Especially with me taking on the full duties of the farm.”
“I am here to help,” she said with her gaze on his face.
“And I am thankful for that, very thankful.”
Relief filled her.
“I should finish here,” he said. “The buggies are arriving.”
“What can I do?”
“There is another fork over there,” he said.
“That way you’ll finish sooner.”
“But you don’t have to help.”
“I want to.”
He gave her a quick glance.
“I do,” she said.
“But why?”
She held her breath. The moment seemed precarious, as if their gains could be washed away in a breath. They were discussing more than physical labor.
“I want to,” she said simply.
He pondered the answer for a moment. “Seems like there should be deeper reasons.”
“Is that why you are hesitating?”
“I have my questions,” he said. He seemed to understand her perfectly.
“Is the Lord’s will a sufficient answer?”
“You think the Lord cares about us, enough to bring us together, to this place, to . . .” He faltered again.
“The Lord cares about you.”
“About us?”
“Why should He not?”
“We’re not important.”
“The Lord decides why He does what He does. Don’t you think?”
“Maybe?”
“He does,” she assured him.
Marcus seemed to acquiesce. He bent his back to the work, and she joined in. The thump of muck being thrown into the wheelbarrow filled the stall as they worked in silence.
“Help us, dear Lord.” Mary sent the prayer silently heavenward. “Help us open our hearts to each other.”
Marcus threw the last forkful of muck from the stall into the wheelbarrow and straightened his back. He gave Mary a quick smile. “Thanks. That was helpful.”
Further words stuck in his mouth.
“Whoa there,” Mose’s voice hollered from the barn door as he brought in the arriving horses.
“I should go help.” Marcus motioned towards the front. “You want to come with me?”
“Of course.” Mary didn�
��t hesitate.
They met Mose coming in. “How are you two doing?”
“We’re all done,” Mary chirped.
Mose grinned. “You two make a goot team.”
Marcus hurried on as Mary lingered behind him, holding the stall door open for Mose.
“You look lovely this morning,” he could hear Mose saying.
Those were words he should be saying, but the very thought left his mouth dry. “Thank you.” He could see Mary gazing up at Mose with a bright smile on her face.
Marcus forced himself to wait at the barn door until Mary appeared.
“Your brother is so charming,” Mary gushed. “I’m surprised some girl hasn’t snatched him up yet.”
“Mose is kind of young to date,” Marcus muttered.
Mary laughed, and he soaked up the sound. At least she wasn’t suggesting that she should be the girl who returned Mose’s charm. He was jealous of his brother. That was the truth. But he loved him, too.
Marcus pushed open the barn door and headed across the barnyard with Mary close beside him.
“Goot morning,” Marcus greeted the next arriving buggy.
Bishop Mullet and his wife, Pricilla, were inside, smiling their brightest, as if they approved of the whole world, and in particular the appearance of this young couple in front of them to help unhitch their buggy.
“Looks like we have curbside service this morning,” Bishop Mullet declared, and hopped down the step, still spry for his age. The bishop hurried around the buggy and offered Pricilla a hand.
Marcus fumbled with unfastening the tug, but Mary was smiling at him when he glanced up, as if his clumsiness were the most charming thing in the world.
“I’ll take things from here.” Bishop Mullet positioned himself at the horse’s bridle. Marcus was left holding the shafts, with Mary still smiling at him. He let go to a rattle of wood on the driveway. Shafts should be let down slowly, not released like a five-year-old without the strength to hold on.
“Next.” Mary motioned towards another buggy entering the driveway, appearing once again not to notice his mistake.
Marcus followed her, with Mose soon joining them at their labors. The yard was full of buggies thirty minutes later. Several hay wagons arrived with prancing teams, eager to head back down the road with their cargo once things were loaded. The wagons were backed up to the house and the furniture appeared. The men wrapped the items in blankets to position them on the flat beds.
“They really are moving,” Mary mused as they caught their breath, standing alone and watching the activity. “It won’t be the same around here tomorrow morning.”
“I know,” Marcus said.
“You’ll be okay. I know how capable you are.”
“That’s nice of you to say.” He let out his breath.
“It is true, you know. Your capabilities.”
“We should talk about that,” he said, suddenly very serious.
“Your capabilities?” Mary looked at him quizzically.
“About my struggles with our relationship, my incapability to deal with what is clearly happening between us.” The words tumbled out quickly, as if he’d been holding them in too long and could no longer bear the burden of them.
Mary paused, considered her words. After a moment she replied soberly, “There is no rush. The Lord will lead us.”
He forced a smile. “Life goes on.”
“You don’t have to keep saying that. I understand. I really do. You have a lot of changes to adjust to right now. It might not be the right time to . . . to start a friendship.” The words caught in her throat. She meant them, but she also desperately hoped he’d tell her she was wrong, that it was the perfect time.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
She pulled herself together, determined to change the mood to a more lighthearted one before she dissolved into tears. “Because I’m a nice person.”
He looked at her. She was teasing. They both laughed.
“You don’t think me crazy then?”
“Not at all.”
“You expect things to really change then?”
“They already have, haven’t they?”
“I guess so, but I feel foolish talking about my problems so much.”
“You don’t have to. The Lord gave us friends to share the load.”
“I know I have things to sort through, but we are becoming more than friends. You know that, right?”
“Do you object?” She tilted her head at him.
“No.”
They looked at each other for a long moment, allowing their eyes to lock, to speak everything their words couldn’t at that moment. Until finally Marcus broke the spell, laughing a little.
“But you and me? Who would have thought?”
“The Lord and His mysterious ways.”
“Is that always your answer?”
“Maybe? It does fit.”
He nodded, agreeing. “We should go help with the loading.”
“I’ll go work in the house,” she said, but it was another moment before she willed herself to walk away.
He followed her progress to the front door before he approached the wagon to grip the side with both hands and catapult himself upward. What had just happened between them? Had he committed himself to Mary? This was the girl of the shimmering suitcase. A cold sweat broke out on his arms.
“About time we get some help,” one of the men scolded. “Lovebirds have to come down from the clouds someday.”
Marcus forced himself to laugh and grabbed the edge of the couch the men were carrying.
CHAPTER 22
LATER THAT DAY, MARCUS’S MAM AND HER BELONGINGS HAD BEEN permanently moved to John Beachy’s home. In the falling dusk, Mary lingered in the yard, waving to Lavina and Leon as they walked out of the driveway. Mary hadn’t seen Marcus since the noon meal had been served in the yard, where the community women had made full use of the waning Indian summer day’s warmth. Marcus had kept his distance while Mary helped serve the sandwiches and chocolate milk prepared for the gathered movers. Laughter and happy chatter had drifted across the yard and upward towards the open heavens. Mary had joined in where she could, but her laughter quickly died away whenever her thoughts turned to Marcus. She must exercise patience, to match her bold words this morning. Marcus was still at a crossroads, in spite of her intense desire that he move on. She should be at his side this moment, or close at least, but she must give him the room he needed. The Lord would have to finish the work that had been so clearly begun. In the meantime, she must bear the wait as Marcus worked through his fears at his own pace.
Lavina, who must have noticed her predicament, whispered in her ear, once the movers had left, “You should stay and serve supper for Mose and Marcus. I heard Mose say he’d help with the milking and then spend the night. I’m not sure he’s too eager to move into the new place, to be honest.”
“Serve them supper?”
“Marcus shouldn’t object,” Lavina had encouraged her. “Someone left a casserole and a pecan pie. The casserole just needs to be heated up, I expect.”
Mary swallowed the lump in her throat and waved one last time at the retreating Hochstetlers. Leon had left with a smile on his face, so he must fully approve of Lavina’s suggestion that she stay to fix supper for Marcus and Mose.
Mary sighed and turned towards the barn. She pushed open the door, and the hinges squawked loudly, as usual. Mose looked up from herding the cows into the barn.
“Ah, help has arrived,” he said, grinning.
“I thought I’d stay. You must be tired from moving today.”
“Not more than usual,” he said. “But I am glad you stayed behind.”
“And there is supper, of course. Casserole. Which you could heat yourself, I suppose.”
“We don’t know how to turn on the oven,” he said, and they both laughed. “I’ll have the feed down in a moment.” He turned to go. “Marcus will be around soon.”
Mary p
icked up a three-legged stool and stood along the wall, waiting, as the soft lowing of the hungry cows filled the enclosed barn space. Marcus wanted her to stay. Deep down he did. She would have to believe that until proven otherwise.
Marcus paused behind the horse stall with a bale of hay clasped in both hands. The weight hung heavy on his shoulders, but he barely noticed. Mary was standing against the far barn wall, obviously waiting for the milking to begin. She had stayed after everyone else had left. Warm circles raced around his heart, the first pleasant emotion he had felt since the fear that had gripped him after their conversation this morning. Marcus shifted the hay bale as the strings cut into his ungloved palms. The agony of the day had been severe. Life without Mary had become like the desert landscape he had seen in pictures back during his school days. There the weather was hot and the sand dry, without an oasis or green trees in sight. That’s what his life had been like before Mary arrived in the community. He hadn’t known back then, but he knew now. He didn’t want that existence anymore.
Marcus kept looking at Mary standing against the barn wall, waiting for Mose to feed the cows, and the pain in his heart seemed to fade into the distance. The beauty of Mary’s spirit washed over him, and her soothing presence touched him again, deep in his heart. He must move forward in his relationship with her. There was no other choice. Seeing Mary like this, he knew. She was here tonight, and he felt like getting down on his knees right here on the barn floor in thanksgiving for the Lord’s grace. During the lunch hour he should have offered her a smile while she served the sandwiches. That was the least he could have done. He could not assume that she would continue to extend her hand of friendship forever.
Marcus repositioned the bale of hay and stepped around the corner. Mary’s gaze flew up.
“You stayed,” he said, trying to sound lighthearted.
“I did.”
“I’m glad.”
“Oh.” She was smiling now.
“I’m sorry about today.” He forced the words out and set the bale of hay on the barn floor.
“We got your mam moved,” she said.
“I appreciate everything about our conversation this morning. I should have told you at lunch time.”
