by Beth Wiseman
The soft sigh she expelled covered him like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s night. He looked at her. So sweet, so innocent. She had no idea what she had asked of him. He had made a vow to himself not to reveal those deep secrets, and he wasn’t about to break that promise.
She moved toward him, placing her hand back on his arm. “Talk to me, Josiah. You never had trouble doing that before. Remember how much time we spent just talking? Lying on a soft bed of grass on a summer night, looking at millions of stars, sharing our hopes and—”
“Stop.” He grabbed her hand, a little harder than he meant to. But he couldn’t help it. Every word she spoke dug into him.
Shock registered on her face, and she tried to twist out of his grip. “Josiah, you’re hurting me.”
He glanced down at his hand locked around her wrist. Stricken, he released her, not missing the red ring circling her pale skin. He staggered backward. “Amanda, I’m . . .” Unable to finish, he turned and ran to the barn. Only when he reached the inside, away from her view, did he allow himself to breathe.
She had said he would never hurt her. Just now, he had proven what he always knew—he could.
Amanda rubbed her wrist as she watched Josiah flee. It didn’t hurt that much, only tingled, and she had been surprised more than anything. Why had he grabbed her like that? She was tempted to follow him but thought better of it. In the old days she would have chased him down and demanded that he talk to her. But his reaction gave her pause, and she remembered her mother’s warning about being too nosy. Instead she headed for the house, trying to figure out what to do.
As she passed through the backyard, she barely noticed her siblings running around and playing by the swing set. She had to find a way to help Josiah. But how, when she had no idea what was wrong?
Still thinking, she walked into the kitchen, where the scent of fried chicken filled the air. Her mother stood next to the stove, a hot pot of oil bubbling over the gas burner. She dipped a chicken leg into a shallow dish holding beaten eggs, then rolled it in a separate dish of flour. Grease spattered as the floured piece hit the hot oil. Katharine wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, looking less tired than she had been lately.
Her mother turned her head, apparently noticing her for the first time. “Amanda. I’m glad you’re home. I could use some help. I know you’ve been over at Josiah’s all day, but if you could fix the corn, I would appreciate it.”
Amanda nodded and walked to the pantry to retrieve two quart jars of home-canned corn. As she dumped the vegetables into a large pot, she continued to consider her dilemma.
“Andrew and Thomas seem to have had a gut time today,” Katharine remarked, flouring another piece of chicken. “They couldn’t stop talking about Mr. Josiah. I’ve never heard them get that tickled from doing a day’s hard work.”
“He’s sehr gut with them.” Amanda added a soft pat of butter to the corn and stirred. “And they worked really hard. So did Rachel. We got a lot accomplished in the kitchen.”
“There’s much satisfaction in a job well done.” Katharine cast Amanda a sidelong glance. “You always do a gut job, Dochder.”
“Danki, Mamm.” She set the pot on top of the stove and turned on the burner, staring at the small yellow kernels as if they held the answers she needed.
“Amanda?”
Her mother’s voice jerked her out of her thoughts. “Ya?”
“Is everything okay? You haven’t said much since you got home.” Using a small wire mesh basket with a long wooden handle attached, she fished out three pieces of golden brown chicken and put them on a platter covered with two layers of paper towel. “That’s not like you.”
“I just have a lot on my mind.” Amanda stirred the corn again, which had started to bubble.
“I suspect Josiah’s on your mind.”
Amanda looked at her mother and sighed. “Ya, he is. He’s different, Mamm. A lot different than he used to be.”
“Of course he is, Amanda. You are too. The last time you saw each other you were barely teenagers. Now you’re both adults. You can’t expect him to be the same bu he was back then.”
“I don’t. But I don’t expect him to be a stranger, either.”
Katharine dropped two more chicken pieces into the large pot. The cooking oil bubbled and splattered. When she didn’t say anything, Amanda took the opportunity to explain.
“I’ve missed him, Mamm. A lot. I didn’t realize how much until he came back.” She turned the heat down under the corn and faced her mother. “He never said good-bye, you know. I want to know why he left so suddenly. And what he’s been doing over the past ten years.” She frowned. “But he’s built this shell around himself. Like a turtle. And just when I think we’re to the point where we can have a real conversation, he ducks inside.”
“Maybe he feels threatened.”
“But why?” Amanda held up her hands. “How can he feel threatened by his best friend?”
“Former best friend. Don’t forget that.” Katharine checked on the chicken, then placed one hand behind her on the small of her back.
“Here, Mamm. Let me finish the chicken. You sit down.” Amanda led her to a chair by the kitchen table.
Her mother plopped down. “Danki, Amanda. Really, I’m fine. Just a twinge in my back.”
“All the more reason for me to finish supper. There’re only a few pieces left anyway. You go ahead and rest.”
Amanda returned to the stove and dredged the last three chicken legs in flour and dropped them in the oil. Wiping her floured hands on a towel, she turned to her mother, picking up the thread of their conversation. She couldn’t let it go just yet. “Do you know why Josiah and his daed left so abruptly?”
“Even if I did, it’s not my place to say, Amanda. I don’t indulge in gossip, and neither should you.”
“But this isn’t idle gossip, Mamm. I can tell there’s something really wrong with Josiah, but he won’t talk to me.”
“Did you stop to think he has his reasons?” Mamm looked at her again. “Amanda, I know you care for him. You two were so close when you were young, so it makes sense that you would be curious. But even though you shared that closeness at one time, a lot has happened, in both your lives. Maybe you weren’t meant to be friends beyond your childhood.”
Amanda shook her head. “I don’t believe that. I can’t.” She paused. “I think God brought him back to Paradise for a reason, and not just to fix up his house.”
Katharine looked skeptical. “Do you really believe that? Or is it wishful thinking?” She rose from her chair and walked over to Amanda, putting her hand on her shoulder. “You have such a beautiful heart, kind. You want to solve everyone’s problems because you care so much. But there are some things in this world you can’t fix. You might have to accept that this is one of them.”
A couple of hours later, after they finished eating supper and washing the dishes, the rest of the family gathered in the living room to listen to Daed read from the Bible, something they did at least one night a week. Although Amanda usually joined them, she didn’t this time, and instead grabbed her jacket from the peg by the back door and slipped outside to the swing set.
The sun had dipped beneath the horizon, cloaking the sky in dusky gray. She sat down on a swing. Stretching her legs in front of her, she dug her toe into the cold dirt and gently pushed the swing back and forth as she stared out at Josiah’s house. She didn’t see his buggy near the barn.
She thought about her mother’s words. Normally she followed her counsel, but she couldn’t shake the niggling thought that her mamm might be wrong in this case. Somehow she’d find out the truth on her own.
No, she wasn’t completely on her own. She had God on her side, just as Josiah did. And while she didn’t think she would get him to open up about his past right away, she could do her best to remind him that whatever he had been through, he hadn’t been alone. Not then, not now. From the discomfort he had displayed praying over the meal, she h
ad a feeling he had forgotten that.
Chapter Seven
JOSIAH AWOKE TO THE SOUND OF TWO BOYS ARGUING outside. Although the night had been cool, he had slept with the window open to dispel the mustiness in his room. He could hear Thomas and Andrew’s voices clearly.
“But you got to help him yesterday,” Andrew said. “It’s my turn to work with Mr. Josiah.”
“But I don’t wanna go home,” Thomas countered.
“You don’t have to. I’m sure there’s other stuff you can do around here. Like help Amanda in the house.”
“I wanna use a hammer again.”
“It’s my turn. I just tole you that.”
Josiah rubbed a hand across his face. Apparently Amanda hadn’t listened to him when he said he didn’t need any help today. Throwing back the ratty quilt he had used as a covering, he got out of bed and went to the window. The boys were pushing each other now, and Josiah knew soon they would be rolling around on the ground, half fighting and half playing, as boys were wont to do.
He heard a door slam, and a moment later Amanda stood at her brothers’ sides. He couldn’t hear her words, but the way she placed her hands on her slim hips expressed her displeasure. Today she wore a black apron over a dark green dress that reached her calves. He forgot about Andrew and Thomas as he watched her, mesmerized. After a few moments, he regained his senses. He clenched his fists and turned away.
He didn’t want to deal with this today. Last evening, he’d gone to Paradise, slowly riding down the side roads until long past dark, not wanting to go back home. Even though he hadn’t lost his temper with Amanda, he had caused her pain, and he could hardly stand that. Gripping her wrist enough to make a mark served to solidify what he already knew—he couldn’t be trusted to keep himself in control.
He pulled on his trousers, then picked up a blue shirt from his duffel bag and slid it over his shoulders. He hadn’t bothered to unpack everything, and he didn’t intend to. Having to pull everything out of a duffel bag every day served as a reminder that he wouldn’t be here any longer than necessary.
It took him only a few minutes to get dressed. He scrubbed his hand over his face one more time. He hadn’t shaved in two days, and he couldn’t let his beard or mustache grow out any more. For a short time he had tried to live like the Englisch, but during that part of his life, he felt that he was turning his back on his mother somehow. Despite his inner struggles, he found a tiny measure of peace living Plain and following the Ordnung, even if he wasn’t sure about his relationship with God.
He scrambled downstairs and went into the bathroom. Ten minutes later he emerged, clean shaven, but no more ready to face Amanda. How could he look her in the eye after he’d physically hurt her yesterday?
“Josiah? Is that you?”
Her lilting voice filtered from the kitchen to the other side of the modest house. Steeling himself, he headed toward her. He would put a stop to her coming over once and for all.
But then he saw her standing in front of the stove, as if she had always belonged there, in his kitchen, in his house. Once he smelled the tantalizing aroma of bacon cooking, he lost his resolve.
Turning, she told him good morning with a bright smile.
The thought of seeing her beautiful face every morning meandered through his mind, making his breath catch. How long had it been since he’d had someone make him breakfast, other than a cook in a restaurant? Years, since his mamm died. He swallowed as more memories overcame him, thoughts of his mother’s buckwheat pancakes and homemade maple syrup so sweet and rich he would eat until almost bursting. His favorite breakfast, one she made for him often. What he wouldn’t do to taste those pancakes now.
“I hope you’re hungry. I’m used to cooking for a crowd, and I think I made too much.” The oven door squeaked painfully as she opened it. Reaching inside, she pulled out a platter piled high with— he couldn’t believe it—pancakes.
She lightly touched the top one. “The oven’s not working yet, but the pancakes are still warm. Can you yell for Andrew and Thomas to come in?”
He hesitated. The scene seemed so strange, like he had gone back in time to when he and Amanda used to play that silly game of house. Only now it seemed almost real.
“Josiah?” She looked at him as she set the pancakes on the table. “If we wait much longer, they’ll be cold.”
He nodded and walked out the back door. Obviously the boys had made up with each other, because they were both climbing the old oak tree about twenty yards from the house. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled. “Andrew! Thomas! Breakfast, nau!”
The boys scrambled down the tree and broke into a sprint. He could tell they were racing, and the sight brought a smile to his face. A couple of inches shorter than his older brother, Thomas had a more natural stride. But Andrew had a superior kick, which he employed when they were a few feet from the house. They finished even.
“I . . . won!” Andrew said, gasping for air.
“Nee,” Thomas said, not sounding quite as winded. “I won.” He looked up at Josiah. “Didn’t I, Mr. Josiah?”
Josiah cleared his throat, trying to maintain a serious tone. “It was a tie.”
“Naw,” Andrew said. “I beat him by a mile.”
“Mr. Josiah said it was a tie, so it was a tie.” Thomas gazed up at him again.
A mix of pride and possessiveness filtered through Josiah as he took in the young boy’s admiring gaze. To be considered with such unabashed regard was humbling. Unable to stop himself, he reached out and ruffled Thomas’s hair.
“What’s taking you so long?” Amanda appeared on the back stoop. She looked at her brothers. “Wash up now. I fixed your favorite—pancakes and bacon.”
“Awesome!” Andrew and Thomas gave each other a high five, then ran inside the house.
Josiah turned around and faced Amanda. “You didn’t have to make breakfast, you know.”
Instead of protesting as he expected, she simply smiled, winked at him, then went back inside the house.
He let out a sigh. Pancakes and a beautiful woman. How could he resist that? Somehow he had to try. But not until after breakfast.
Andrew and Thomas inhaled their food, and Amanda sent them outside to play again until she and Josiah were finished eating. Then they could all get started on the work of the day.
She cut her pancake in half, then in quarters before pouring a small amount of syrup over the pieces. Glancing up, she noticed Josiah had his head down again, eating nearly as fast as the boys had. “Is my cooking that bad?”
He glanced up, one protruding cheek stuffed with food. “What?”
“The food. Is it so bad you can’t slow down and taste it?”
A sheepish expression crossed his features. He chewed, slowly, and swallowed. “Just the opposite. It’s very tasty.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you enjoy it. I think you’ll enjoy it more if you don’t stuff it down your throat.”
“Are you telling me how to eat my breakfast?”
“I suppose I am. Seems to me you need some tutoring in that area.”
“Is that so?” Moving in slow motion, he picked up a piece of bacon and brought it to his mouth, then chewed with exaggerated movements. “Is that better?”
She giggled. “Much.” Finally. This was the Josiah she remembered. Playful. Funny. Not sullen and somber. She held out the almost-empty platter of pancakes to him. “Do you want any more?”
“Best not.” He patted his flat stomach. “I’ve eaten more than enough.”
Clearly it was a compliment on her cooking, and she took it. Rising from her chair, she started clearing the table. She was surprised and pleased when he helped out. After putting the dishes in the sink, she turned around and looked at him. “Rachel was going to come today, but she and Hannah are helping Mamm repair a few of the boys’ pants. They go through clothes like you wouldn’t believe. I thought I’d work in the living room today. That shouldn’t take that long. Unless the bathroom nee
ds cleaning first? After seeing the kitchen, I can only imagine what it looks li—”
“Amanda.”
The soft way he said her name made her shut her mouth.
He glanced down at his feet, then shifted from one to the other before looking up, all traces of his earlier playfulness gone. “I know I’ve said this before, and I really, really appreciate your help, but you can’t keep doing this.”
She tilted her head. “And as I’ve said before, I don’t mind. I have Mamm’s blessing, and as long as my chores are done at home, it’s no problem to give you a hand.”
He shook his head. “You’re not understanding me. I don’t want you to help me.” His gaze hardened. “I don’t want you here.”
Leaning against the sink, she crossed her arms over her chest, hurt. “Why not?”
“Does it matter why?”
“Ya, Josiah, it does. You can’t just say you don’t want me here and then not explain.”
He threaded his fingers through his hair. “Okay, you want an explanation, here it is. I came back to Paradise for one reason—to fix this house up enough so that it will sell. Once I’ve done that, I’m putting it on the market. And when it sells, I’m taking the money and going to Ohio.”
“You’re not staying?”
“Nee. I never planned to. So as you can see, there’s no point in your being here.”
“But our friendship—”
“Look, Amanda. After I’m gone, we’ll never see each other again. That’s the way it has to be. That’s the way I want it to be. I’ll pay you for the food you brought yesterday and this morning, but after that I don’t want you to bother coming over here.”
Awareness dawned, and she felt like a fool. He had a girlfriend waiting for him in Ohio. How could she be so stupid? He was already spoken for, and it wouldn’t do for him to be spending so much time with another woman, even though they were only friends.
Meeting his gaze, she realized that her mother had been right all along. Nothing was the same between them. Too much time had passed, and too much distance had separated them. Josiah seemed like a stranger to her because he truly was. And he seemed content to keep things that way.
