<><><>
John stormed into Zachariah’s apartment and marched straight to the refrigerator. He ignored Zach sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand.
“Hey, man. What are you doing?”
He pulled a case of beer from the bottom shelf and set it on the counter next to the sink. “Something I should have done the first time I came over.” He opened one of the bottles.
“Sure, you can have one.” Zach shrugged.
John continued opening bottles and then began dumping them down the drain.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Zach leaped off the couch and charged toward him.
“I told you.”
“No! Don’t dump my beer. I paid a lot of money for that.” He grasped John’s arm.
John took another bottle with his free hand and began dumping it out. “This garbage is ruining your life.”
“No.” Zach grabbed the bottle from his hand and John turned at the stench of alcohol on his breath. He looked over to the side table near the couch where his friend had been sitting and counted four empty bottles.
John’s eyes bored into Zach’s. “Let me do this, Zach.”
“I need it,” he cried in desperation.
“No, you don’t need it. What you need is your family. Come back to our people, Zach.”
“You know I can’t.”
“Do you consider me a friend?”
“You know I do.” He release his grasp.
“Then, why in the world did you show up to my wedding drunk?”
Zach scratched his head. “Drunk?”
“You don’t even remember?” John shook his head. “Well, let me refresh your memory. You walked into the Keims’ house during the ceremony and began confessing every wrong thing you’ve ever done in your life, including kissing my wife! Does that sound familiar?” He wondered if Zach was even sober enough to grasp the meaning of his words.
“I just had a few beers.” Obviously he was not.
He’d have to have a heart to heart chat with his friend when he was sober. It would do no good now. “No more. Go sit back down.”
“But that’s my beer.”
He took several bottles at once and emptied them into the sink. “No, this is the devil’s beer and it’s going back to Hell where it came from!”
“Stop it!” Zach lunged at John, pushing him into the side of the fridge. His back arched with pain.
“I’m not going to fight you, if that’s what you’re trying to start. But I’m also not going to sit back and let you ruin your life.” He seized the bottle in his friend’s hand and threw it into the sink. He didn’t care about the broken glass; that could be cleaned up later.
“My life is already ruined.”
“No, it’s not. You have your whole life ahead of you, Zach. You can meet a nice girl, get married and settle down. You can still have a great life.”
“It’s too late.”
“No, it’s not.”
Zach pointed to the empty beer bottles. “You know I’m going to buy more.”
John crossed his arms over his chest. “No, you are not.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“Try me,” he challenged. “I’ll tie you up if I have to.”
John watched as Zach defiantly marched past him and out the door. He smirked as his friend attempted to get into his car.
Zach came back into the house. “Forgot my keys.” He walked over to the table where he usually kept his wallet and keys and frowned at the empty space. “What’s going on, man?”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Who are you, Bishop Hershberger?”
“I’m your friend. Quite possibly the only one you have right now.”
“What? So you’re just going to sit here and babysit me?”
“Looks like it.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you and I care about you. Why else would I leave my wife all alone the day after I married her?”
“Rosanna. She’s a perty girl, John.”
“I know. She’s my wife.”
Zach looked at him as though a new revelation struck him. “Your wife?”
John sighed. “Yes, Zach. Rosie is my wife now.”
“Aw, man. When was the wedding? Why didn’t you invite me?”
“I did.” He frowned. Although frustrated, John was glad Zach was slowly beginning to sober up. “We’ll talk about it later, okay? I’ll tell you all about it after you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”
“But it’s morning,” he protested.
“Look outside, buddy.”
Zach limped to the window and moved the curtain. “It’s dark out there.”
“Yep. Bedtime.” John pointed to Zach’s bed and his friend reluctantly did as told.
John stared at the ceiling for the next two hours before drifting off to sleep. He listened to Zach’s snore while his thoughts bounced back and forth between his new wife and his best friend. If he could just get Zach sober and talk him into rejoining the church, it would be just like old times. Zach could find a nice Amish girl to marry, they could build a house on the property next to the acreage he’d purchased for his and Rosie’s house, and they could raise their children side-by-side. Who knows, maybe their children would someday end up getting hitched.
Jah, that is a good goal. John smiled as he envisioned their future lives, full of hope and promise.
<><><>
John grinned as Zach hobbled into the small breakfast nook. He’d managed to find a couple slices of bread and few eggs in Zach’s near empty fridge.
“Smells…interesting.” Zach checked the fridge then closed it again. Had he been looking for beer?
“You know, you should really be using your crutches.”
Zach nodded halfheartedly. “Probably, but I’m trying to learn to walk with just my prosthesis.”
John had watched him attach his prosthetic leg earlier and wondered if he would have been the one with a missing limb, had he gone to war.
“Aw, man. My foot itches!”
John shrugged. “So scratch it.”
“Not that foot, the one that’s missing.”
John’s brow shot up. “What? You mean, your missing foot itches?”
Zach chuckled. “Yep. And sometimes my shin hurts like crazy. Phantom pain. Pretty weird, huh?”
“Strange.” John moved the plate in front of Zach. “Eat up. We’re leaving soon.”
“Leaving?”
“I’m taking you home with me,” John insisted. “I had one of the Englisch drivers bring your car and drop it off. His wife picked him up.”
Zach nodded slowly as though not fully comprehending the situation.
“You left it at the Keims’ when you came to our wedding. An Englischer brought you home.”
“How did it go?”
“What? The wedding?” John handed his friend a glass of juice. He grimaced. “It was a disaster, but I managed to salvage as much of it as I could.”
His brow shot up. “Disaster?”
“You showed up drunk.” His eyes narrowed.
“Oh, no.” Zach slapped his forehead with his palm.
“Oh, yes. Zach, it has to stop. You’re going to end up ruining your life.”
“My life’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. When you show up to your best friend’s wedding drunk and humiliate your family, I assure you, your life is not fine.” He stared at his friend. “I mean it, Zach. This isn’t a game.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Then prove it by getting sober. Don’t buy any more alcohol.”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Yes.”
John smiled. This was better news than anything he could have hoped for.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rosanna frowned when she looked out the window and saw both John and Zachariah heading toward the house. She’d been looking forward to John’s return all morning, but she hadn’
t expected Zach at his side. She just finished putting the last clean breakfast dish away when the two of them walked through the door.
“Rosie?”
How she loved hearing her name on her husband’s lips.
“I’m back, schatzi,” John called from the door.
“In the kitchen.”
He walked through the back mudroom and into the kitchen of her parents’ home. The moment he saw her his grin widened along with his steps toward her. John approached and in one quick moment whisked her into his arms and offered the kiss she’d been dreaming about since he’d left yesterday. Before they got carried away, a throat being cleared reminded them they weren’t alone.
John reluctantly broke away. “Oh yeah. Rosie, look what the cat dragged in.”
Her gaze momentarily flitted toward Zachariah and she nodded briefly.
Zach stepped forward. “I’d like to apologize for my behavior at the wedding.”
Rosanna looked at John, who signaled she should acknowledge his apology. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Zach brow shot up. “What exactly does that mean?”
John put his arm around her. “I think that means she forgives you, but she’s still a little upset about it.” He looked to her. “Am I right?”
She nodded.
“I guess I’ll have to take whatever I can get.” Zach frowned.
“Rosie, do you think your folks will mind if Zach stays the night?”
Rosanna bit her tongue. How could he even ask such a question? Tonight was supposed to be their night. Not theirs and Zach’s. She’d been craving time with John and wanted him all to herself. She was tired of sharing her husband. It seemed in the time they were married, he’d spent just as much time with Zachariah as he had with her. It just didn’t seem fair. He was supposed to be home with her. They were supposed to be building a life together. First, Zachariah wanted to ruin their wedding. Now, he wanted to steal their precious time together?
Rosanna quickly turned back to the sink so the two men wouldn’t see the tears gathering in her eyes. She did her best to swallow them back before speaking. She measured her words. “You may ask my father.”
“We’ll do that.” John kissed her head lightly, then disappeared with his best friend at his side.
Rosanna sucked in a deep breath and whispered a desperate plea for help, but what she really felt like doing was screaming.
<><><>
Concern had been mounting since the moment John returned home with Zach. Something wasn’t right with Rosie and he was determined to find out what it was. The last thing he wanted was an argument. This had only been their third day of marriage. He’d stayed long enough to help with all the cleanup from their wedding but missed their second day altogether, because of his time helping Zach sober up.
Now that they were alone in Rosie’s folks’ dawdi haus, they’d be able to spend some time together. His wife had already gone to bed, and he guessed it was because she was upset with him. He quickly undressed and slid into bed next to her.
“Rosie?” his voice was gentle. “Wanna talk?”
His wife shrugged but didn’t turn to him.
Yep, she’s mad. “What can I do to make things right?” He stroked her soft hair, which evidently had just been shampooed by the subtle sweet fragrance.
Rosanna shrugged.
“Turn to me, please,” he requested.
She did as bidden.
He felt the warm moisture on her face. “You’re crying, lieb? Why?” What on earth had he done to make his bride cry? He needed to come up with something quickly. "I'm not that ugly, am I?”
Her shoulders shook and he knew he’d struck a chord. “You’re not supposed to try to make me laugh when I’m crying. It’s just not right.”
“But I don’t want you to cry. I hate seeing you cry.”
“Why is Zachariah here?”
“I don’t want him staying alone at his apartment. He’ll just go buy more beer.”
“Are you planning on having him move in with us?”
“No. Of course, not. It’s just temporary. If he dries out and sees that he doesn’t need the alcohol, I’m hoping he’ll stop drinking.”
“How long is he staying?”
“I don’t know. A few days, maybe. I’m hoping he’ll go back home to his folks’ place.”
“We’re supposed to leave tomorrow, remember?”
He smacked his forehead with his palm. “Ah, man. I forgot all about that. Can it wait a few days?”
“We have people expecting us, John.” He heard the exasperation in her voice and he knew she was on the verge of crying again. “Do you not want to go?”
“Nee, lieb. Of course, I want to go. It’s just…” He thought about it for a moment. “I’ll talk to Abram Zook tomorrow and see if Zach can stay with them. If he agrees, you and I can go. If not, we’ll have to postpone it a few more days. Is that okay with you?”
“I guess it has to be, jah?”
“I just want to help Zach. I want to see him living his life like he should. If it were me, wouldn’t you do the same?”
“Jah.”
“Maybe Zach’s cousin Elam will help him out. He still lives with his folks, last I heard. He’s a great guy and I’m sure he’d be willing to help.”
“I don’t think I’ve met him.”
“He’s in another district, just east of Honey Ridge. I’ll call tomorrow and leave a message at the phone shanty.”
“What happens if Zach doesn’t recover?”
“I know Zach; he can beat this. I think there’s a battle going on in his head. While I stayed the night with him, he seemed to toss and turn all night. I think he might have been experiencing nightmares. He saw a lot of bad stuff out there in the world. Remember how he confessed that he’d killed several people when over in Afghanistan? Well, I think that might be coming back to haunt him.”
“So, he wants to kill himself now?”
“No, I don’t think so. I think he drinks to help him forget.”
“But that’s not going to help.”
“I know. The folks he rents from are good people and they’ve been inviting him to their church. They have a program for people like Zach. I’m going to encourage him to go. Maybe I’ll even go with him.”
“You want to go to an Englisch church?” Her voice screeched.
“If it means getting help for Zach, then yes. You can go with us.”
“Nee. I cannot do that. You shouldn’t either. You know you’ll be receiving a visit from the deacon if you keep this up.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else to do, Rosie. I refuse to let Zach keep going down this destructive path that he’s on. He has no one else to help him.” He stroked her arm. “Let’s not talk about this anymore, okay? Let’s talk about us.”
“Us? There is no us, John. There’s you and Zach. And then there’s me. I feel like you’re more committed to Zach than you are to our marriage.”
Was that true? Had he neglected his wife that much? “I promise I’ll make it up to you. When this is all over and straightened out, you’ll see that it was just a short part of our lives. We can sacrifice a small amount of time to help a brother in need, jah?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Glancing around his room for the night, which Frances informed him was once Rosanna's, Zach couldn't help but feel restless. It was all about to come back – the memories, the flashbacks, the nightmares. And this time he didn't have anything to dull the pain.
He sat on the bed and placed his head in his hands. John wanted to protect him from his addiction, protect him from the alcohol, but he didn't know that that wasn't what Zach feared. Drinking was only the symptom of his real problem. His counselor had called it PTSD – post-traumatic stress disorder, which basically meant the war haunted him.
John didn't understand the terrors that plagued Zach at every waking moment. The screams of his fellow soldiers, the ugly conditions, the blood everywhere. Nobody understood what he'
d been through and no one would, unless they’d been through a similar ordeal.
He sighed and stood, pacing around the room. He did his best to step quietly, knowing most of the house was asleep. He resisted the pulls of slumber so they could sleep in peace. Zach knew if he were to sleep, his night terrors would surely awaken everyone. The only time he ever slept peacefully was when he drunk himself into unconsciousness.
Even now, being wide awake, the visions plagued him. He fought them as best as he could, tirelessly drawing his thoughts to other matters. He longed for the numbing oblivion that alcohol provided. It was his only escape from himself.
But, no matter how hard he tried, his mind always went back to that place, the hell that changed his life.
He reached for the camouflage backpack adjacent to his thigh.
“Take cover! Now!” his comrade yelled as he dived behind their temporary fortress.
Zach’s gaze shot toward where Jones’ voice announced the command. He glanced toward an abandoned building, spotted the enemy, and hastily crawled toward their makeshift sandbag wall, dragging his pack with him. A pop, pop, pop sound told him they were being fired upon.
He buried his head in the cocoon of his muscled biceps, compliments of growing up on an Amish farm, while sand flew from enemy fire. If only Bishop Hershberger could see me now. He shook his head dispelling thoughts of home.
Who knew if he’d even make it out of here alive? This was no time to lose his focus. There was a mission to accomplish – sneak in undetected, rescue the civilian refugees, and return home alive. But return to what? Hadn’t he sacrificed everything to come here? When he returned, there wouldn’t be a parade in his honor like there would be for the other soldiers. There would be no loved ones with balloons or signs or welcoming him home. Stop it!
“Farm Boy? You okay?” Jones called.
Zach ignored his question. He listened in silence until fire from the enemy ceased. Rapid footsteps told him the enemy had moved on. Perhaps they hadn’t been spotted after all. “Do you think they’ll be back?”
A Secret Sacrifice (Amish Secrets--Book 5) Page 10
