“Is there another kind of gym other than Englisch?”
He chuckled. “True.”
“I was disappointed in your opinion of what you needed to do, and I ruined our last week together by being silent or stiffly polite while I was internally browbeating you.” Why had she felt so compelled to come here? It had seemed as if God wanted her here, maybe to finish destroying all romantic myths about this man. Still, she wasn’t here about his future, only about how she’d behaved last week. “Added to those things, I like to think I’m modern in my thinking, broad minded and filled with grace, and every bit of that is true”—she teasingly shook her finger in his face—“until someone does something unexpected that challenges my broad-minded views.”
He smiled. “That was really nice. Thank you. I get how this must look and feel to you, so I didn’t hold your responses, or lack thereof, against you.” He sat. “An Amish man fighting is really hard to accept.”
“You can’t be in this situation and call yourself Amish.”
He shrugged. “I’m living Englisch right now, but I am Amish.”
She longed to ask, Ya, for how long? Instead she nodded. “It’s your life, and I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I didn’t come here to dish out my inner struggle onto you.”
“That’s gut, ya?” His crooked smile tried to steal a piece of her heart, but it couldn’t. The reality of who he was continued to sink in as she remained in his dreary apartment above a smelly gym.
He unfolded his arms. “Friends?”
She shrugged. “Our being friends is hard and awkward.”
“I know, but we could move past that, couldn’t we?”
She shrugged, unsure whether she could. What they felt for each other was deeper than friendship, yet who they were separated them.
“Abi, could I buy you dinner or at least coffee and dessert?”
“That’s kind of you, but I have a driver waiting. I needed to see you, to look in your eyes as I apologized for my behavior.” But it hurt to be here, to realize how wide the gulf was between them.
“You could send the driver on her way, and I’ll pay for your Uber ride home.”
“Is the idea of us spending an hour talking a good one?”
“I don’t know. Can’t we just enjoy it for what it is and ignore what it isn’t?”
She wanted to stay for a while. She longed for him to choose to give up fighting and leave this place and go back with her. She wanted him to kiss her and say she was the one. But apparently fighting was the one, and at least half of his heart belonged to it. If she stayed, she’d end the time longing even more for things that couldn’t be. Her Daed used to tell her that when she did care for someone, she’d fall fast and hard, and she had.
He stepped closer and gently lifted a string of her prayer Kapp. “This place, me in this place—it’s too much, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “You’ve known me well from the first day.” She kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“Denki, Abi.”
She opened the door. “Bye, Chris.”
If his leaving yesterday morning hadn’t severed all dreams of who they could be, this visit had. Maybe that’s what God had in mind when she felt impressed to come here.
“I’ll walk you out.”
They went down the stairs and out the door of the gym, saying nothing. She got in the front seat of the car, and he stood on the sidewalk. If he had a girlfriend who had pulled him back home and away from her, she could understand that. But boxing to clear a debt? Living in a hole in the wall because he couldn’t go home? It made no sense at all.
He waved, and she returned the wave.
* * *
Jemima stirred awake, hearing faint sounds of movement in the house. It had to be Roy. Last night, after their blowup in the stables, she got all the children asleep, including Heidi, before he arrived home. Jemima had been desperate not to see Roy, so she’d put Heidi in the bassinet in the guest bedroom, where Roy slept. Then she went to the master bedroom with Simeon and closed the door, hoping Roy wouldn’t disturb her when he arrived home. Maybe he got some sleep. Maybe not. But even as angry as she was with him, she was also mortified at her behavior, at all she’d said.
He hadn’t come to her room.
She pulled the quilt higher on her shoulder, thinking of the dream she’d just had of Roy and her on a train, laughing and talking, holding hands as beautiful scenery whizzed by.
A few months after they were married, they’d taken a train trip and had slept in an old-fashioned sleeper car. The beds were stacked and super small, but they squeezed into one, practically on top of each other. They’d spent most of the night laughing about silly things, enjoying each other, and sharing dreams for their future. She remembered being so very thankful to God for the blessing of Roy. They’d talked of their hopes for at least six children, of Jemima’s food truck that she would work in on Saturdays during tourist season, and of Roy’s desire to buy his Daed’s horse farm and turn it into something more, something that included teaching Englisch children how to ride. He’d hoped also to include special-needs Englisch children, but that part of the dream took extra money and licensing that hadn’t worked out yet.
When morning came and they went to the dining car for breakfast, they’d gotten so many stares and winks from the other passengers, who were mostly retired Englisch couples, that Jemima had blushed through most of breakfast.
Now, waking in her marriage bed alone, she was so removed from that happy, in-love newlywed. After a decade together, their train had derailed and that perfect bubble of love had burst. But she still cared for him and always would. Maybe the derailing of the dream marriage was inevitable. Adult life was filled with unexpected stresses, so many of them. Because their way of life was designed for the husbands to have the reins, maybe she should’ve expected to feel powerless, but that never entered her mind until it was too late. Did most women feel that way but never talk about it?
The stairs squeaked with slow footfalls. The footsteps came closer and stopped outside her room.
Please, just keep going.
He tapped on her door.
“Kumm.” She sat up.
He opened it, although she wasn’t sure how, since he had a kerosene lantern in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She closed her eyes, longing to go back to that dream.
He walked into the room and sat on the end of the bed. “Morning, Jem. The children are still asleep, and I was hoping we could have a few minutes to talk.” He held the mug out to her.
Jemima sat up a bit more and took the coffee. But there was nothing left to say. After getting the children fed and lunches packed, Jemima would take Laura to school and the others to Roy’s Mamm’s. Then Roy and she would go back to working physically side by side but emotionally hundreds of miles apart.
“I spoke with my Daed last night and told him everything. I asked if Heidi and I could stay at their house, and he said yes.”
“Oh.” How was she supposed to feel about that? She’d made it clear she didn’t want their children to have to deal with his being shunned. Had he made this decision without her as well?
He put a hand on her quilt-covered leg and looked into her eyes over the flickering lantern. “Jemima, you’re not powerless. I’m willing to follow your lead on everything. I’m ready to tell the bishop and move to my parents’ house with Heidi if that’s what you choose. Or we can say the baby is Tiffany’s and she’s run off, not telling who the baby’s dad is, and we can keep her here.”
Was any of this new? “Neither of those is a good option.”
Roy nodded slowly. “I know. I know you’re in a terrible place either way. But here’s the rest. You don’t have to help me with the horses anymore. Daed will lend a hand until Aaron can be here or I can hire someone else. I’m not sure how to go about getting a food truck
, but I’ll figure it out soon, and you’ll have your dream, I promise.”
No part of her heart believed him about the food truck. She wished she could believe him.
“I think Heidi should stay with us at least a few more weeks while we pray about what to do, but if after that you feel she’d be better off being raised by a different loving couple, then that’s what we’ll do.”
What? The weight of his words brought as much pain as it did relief.
“Jem, you said some scary things about wishing you didn’t exist and not wanting to live.”
Embarrassment crawled over her. “I would never, ever disappear or do myself serious harm. I wouldn’t. It’s just thoughts that hit when I feel overwhelmed with all of it and see no escape.”
“If the thoughts continue or become more than momentary thoughts, you tell someone, and you make them hear you. Promise me?”
She nodded.
“No matter what happens, Jemima, I’m on your side in this battle. If you need us to divorce, I’ll give it to you and take the blame with the church. You’re not stuck. You’re not powerless. But I insist on one thing from you, okay?” He looked intently at her, and she saw tears in his eyes. “You have to take care of yourself. Don’t let thoughts of wishing to die go unchecked because you feel trapped. You just tell me what you want, and that’s what we’ll do. Do you understand me?”
Tears stung her eyes. What did she want? All of his ideas were terrible options. The bottom line was that whatever she chose, it would be permanent, and she’d be powerless to undo it.
Powerless.
She hated the word, but dozens of scenarios of good, God-fearing people caught in powerless situations pounded her. Was she asking more of life than it could give?
Her mind moved to her children. A shunning would hurt them, not just for the present but also throughout their childhood as others reminded them of what their father had done. As much as she wanted Roy and Heidi out of the house, she couldn’t do that to Laura, Carolyn, Nevin, and Simeon—at least not until she was sure what she truly wanted. It wouldn’t be fair to them. If Roy moved out of the house with Heidi, everyone in the community would immediately know what was going on, and there’d be no changing her mind later.
Jemima looked down at her mug of coffee. “Thank you for hearing me. Just knowing that you listened helps. But this situation is still impossible. I don’t know what I want, but I won’t be able to figure it out with you constantly here as a reminder of everything that’s wrong.”
Maybe he was right that they should keep Heidi for a little while longer. Giving her away amid this turmoil would do more damage than good.
“I understand. I’ll pack up Heidi’s stuff now.”
“No, I want you to stay in the guest room and leave before I wake or stay in the hayloft. You can eat with your folks. I don’t want to see you for a while. I can’t see you right now. I’ll take care of Heidi.”
Even in the lantern light, the pain on his face was obvious. “I’ll do it. I’ll give you the space you need.”
Space. Wasn’t that one of their issues that had her feeling so lonely before all this started? Now everything was out in the open, yet she was unable to put her arms around him and pull him close. But what else could they do now except live separately under the same roof? Seeing him brought nothing but anger and resentment. Maybe if she could have some time away from him to process her new reality, she could let go of her anger.
Or maybe not.
She lifted her eyes to meet his. “How did we get here?”
His faint smile wavered and faded. “I don’t know, Jem. It seems to run deeper and go back further than the mess with Tiffany.” He shrugged. “As much as we love our children and enjoy raising them, their needs get between us. Their conversations overtake ours until we forget what we wanted to tell each other. The buggy accident was so hard on us—all that time of being separated, of pushing our emotional needs aside while we dealt with everyone’s physical needs. Sometimes marriage is like being in the same room but miles apart. Maybe I knew more about how you felt than I realized, but I walked out the door for years and buried my heart in what I could accomplish and feel good about.”
A moment of silence passed. Were they both thinking about what had pulled them apart? Then Heidi’s piercing cry filled the house, and Simeon woke, wailing.
Twenty-Three
March winds blew as Abigail pulled back on the reins, slowing Pippi. Early-morning sun dazzled against the dew. She took a deep breath as Pippi walked onward. This was where Abigail and Chris had met a mere three weeks ago. Had they known each other only that long? Maybe it felt like more because they’d spent nearly every waking minute of that time together. Clearly he’d been capable of stealing her heart, which she’d never actually believed was a real possibility for any man to do. But it wasn’t meant to be. Even though he’d felt that connection too, none of it was enough. It all came down to who a person really was, and evidently he was actually more Englisch than Amish.
Maybe there was nothing wrong with that, but it made them unequally yoked, and the only thing left to do was walk away from each other.
She’d realized how deeply rooted he was in the Englisch ways five days ago when she went to see him at the boxing gym. It did her heart a lot of good to apologize in person, and it had helped her see the bleak reality of what was in his heart. It was disappointing to feel a deep connection to a man and for it to be nothing more than a false alarm. It would take a while to move past that. But time was on her side.
“Abi!” The faint voice of a man yelling caused her to bring Pippi to a halt. She pulled one rein, and Pippi turned in a slow circle as Abigail searched the area. A man on a white horse was galloping straight for her.
Chris? If it was him, he had on Amish clothes.
Pippi pranced, wanting to race the oncoming horse, but Abigail kept her still. “Whoa. Stand firm.” Abigail leaned in, patting her. “Pippi, stand firm.”
Pippi shook her head and snorted, but her hooves stayed put. There wasn’t a better-trained horse on this farm. Abigail and her Daed had begun working with her when she was a colt fifteen years ago.
She recognized the white horse as Lightning, and when the horse stopped, she could see the rider’s face clearly.
“Chris Fisher, what are you doing here?”
His eyes didn’t move from hers, but he said nothing. He’d had a similar reaction the day they met.
She snapped her fingers. “Hallo? Fisher?”
He lowered his eyes to her hands. “Sorry. Déjà vu.”
“Ya, we’ve been here before.”
“It feels as if I’ve been here a thousand times.” His eyes met hers again, and he said nothing else for several moments. He sat up straighter. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m here today.”
How did she feel about it? “Nee, it’s fine, but it’s strange. Why are you here? And why are you wearing Amish clothes?”
“To answer your last question first, they’re comfortable and a part of who I am. To answer your first question, Jemima called me a few hours ago and asked if I could lend a hand. That’s when I learned that Aaron’s been out sick all week, and I feel really bad about that. Had I known that, I would’ve gotten Dan to fill in for him. So they’re in a bind for today. But I called Aaron, and he’s on a round of antibiotics and will be here first thing Monday.”
“In a bind? Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”
“Do you always have this many questions?”
“Ya, pretty much.”
“Jemima called, saying something about Roy forgetting to cancel today’s lessons for a group of Amish special-needs kids coming in.”
“Ach.” Abigail pulled out her phone to check her calendar and realized she’d missed numerous calls and texts. “Why is my phone on Do Not Disturb?”
&nbs
p; “Again with the questions.” He chuckled. “All I know is I didn’t do it,” he teased. “But I was sent to find you.”
“Okay.” She turned Pippi in the right direction, and they rode side by side toward the horse farm. “You know, that was the perfect time for you to have yelled, ‘I’m coming for you, Graber,’ as you raced past me.”
“I considered it, but it seemed too playful and flirty.”
“Ya, I guess so. How is a moment of flirting wrong, but years of punching men isn’t?”
He didn’t respond.
“Sorry.” Abigail sighed. “I’m still adjusting, I guess.”
“Friends don’t have to agree with a decision, you know. They just have to learn to keep their mouths shut. Apparently that will take you a while.”
She laughed. “It’s not my strong suit.”
“Tell me something I don’t know, Abi.”
“Um, Jemima’s doing a little better.”
“I know. I heard it in her voice when she called me. Try again.”
“Not one other horse has shown any symptoms of EHV-1.”
“I know. Roy told me that when I arrived.”
“We have only ten days left before the quarantine is over.”
“I know that too. You’re not very good at this, are you?”
“Well, if you’re so smart, why don’t you tell me something you don’t know.”
He laughed. “How am I supposed to tell you something I don’t know?”
“Most often when people lack knowledge on a topic, they ask questions. There, I just told you something you didn’t know.”
“I think you won, unless I come up with a good retort before leaving today. So, Teacher Abigail, how do I give equine lessons for special-needs children?”
“The info is specific but easy to do. It can be exhausting on occasion but always extremely fulfilling by the time everyone goes home.”
“It will be Amish kids on a horse. How fulfilling can that be? The two have gone hand in hand since the dawn of Amish-hood.”
The Englisch Daughter Page 18
