Beyond Hope's Valley: A Big Sky Novel

by Tricia Goyer

  "We're moving all our things to the dawdi haus," Naomi said. "I'll be setting everything up for after the wedding, of course. There should be plenty of time to get everything in order, especially since we'll have more time than we thought."

  Marianna nodded. Naomi's parents had asked them to wait, but why? Because Naomi's pregnancy was so evident? Or were there other reasons? An icy sensation traveled up Marianna's arms. Oh, why didn't she allow Levi to share more of the burdens on his heart?

  "Are you excited that you'll be living on your own—on your own together, I mean?" Marianna tried to keep her eyes off the one thing she wanted to talk about most—the baby growing in Naomi's womb. "It seems like a big commitment."

  "With the house and Levi's income I s'pose we'll have enough to make it. And after the wedding, as we go around visiting, we should get enough for me to keep a home." Naomi rubbed her belly. That surprised Marianna. It also surprised her that Naomi talked like things were happening no different than with every other Amish young couple. The truth was, though, it wasn't uncommon for Amish girls to get pregnant out of wedlock. What was uncommon was for their boyfriends to come back from the world.

  "Would you like some hot tea? I have water on the stov—"

  The door opened and Levi stepped in. Instead of the look of admiration Marianna had seen a hundred times, Naomi dropped her hand from her stomach and looked away. Then she sniffed the air. "I think my pie is done. I'll be back in a minute."

  Marianna smiled at Levi, and Levi smiled back, sitting on the sofa next to her. As soon as Naomi was out of earshot she turned to her brother.

  "Are you certain, Levi?"

  "Certain?"

  "With this decision?"

  Levi looked deep into Marianna's eyes. She could see he knew what he ought to say—that he was happy about the marriage. She could see he was going to do the right thing—the honorable thing—but that didn't mean it would be easy.

  She swallowed hard and folded and unfolded her hands on her lap. The conflict was clear in his eyes, but so was the commitment. Something struck her deep within. She had a feeling gazing into Levi's eyes was like looking into her own soul. Did others see the questions, worries, in her gaze too?

  Levi sighed. "Love is a choice, not a feeling. Didn't you write that in one of your letters to me?"

  "Ja, it is a choice, and you're not making an easy one." Marianna forced herself to speak the question she'd been wanting to ask. "It isn't your baby, Levi, is it?"

  Levi stiffened. "Why would you say that?"

  "There is something different about you and Naomi. Distance. She . . . it's as if she's worried you're going to walk out at any moment. And you—you have the same look in your eye as when you were ten. Dat had given up on that newborn calf, but you stayed with it day and night for a week, feeding it at all hours until it was strong enough to nurse. You were proud. You were weary, too, but that didn't compare. It was as if the sacrifice was worth it."

  He looked away. "You're seeing things where they ought not be."

  "Am I? It's me you're talking to, Levi. I've come all this way to help. Shouldn't I know the truth?"

  "And you'll not speak it to anyone."

  "Of course not. You know me better."

  He turned back to her, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "I have not slept with her, Mari. After all these years. I may not have followed the Amish ways, but I believed Dat when he told me that physical union ought to be saved for marriage."

  Marianna's trembling fingers touched her lips.

  "Whose? Whose baby is it, then?"

  Levi shrugged and lowered his head. "Would you believe me when I tell you I won't ask. I don't want to know?"

  "But why? How could you not want to know?" Marianna's stomach churned. She touched her forehead, suddenly lightheaded.

  This couldn't be happening.

  "I want to love this child like my own, think of it as mine. As far as everyone else is concerned it is." He covered his mouth with his hand and then wiped it, as if wiping poison off his lips. "I don't want to think of her with another. Don't want to think what I'd say to a man who would do such a thing. Who would do that, Mari?"

  He looked away, but the anger in his words was evident. "Who would leave a young woman pregnant and alone?"

  Who, indeed?

  The cold air nipped at Marianna's nose as she walked from Naomi's house to Aunt Ida's place. She hadn't wanted to be rude, but nearly as soon as Levi confessed the truth she had to get out of there. She needed fresh air. Needed space to think.

  The steady clop-clop of a slow horse met Marianna's ears, along with the rasp of buggy wheels in the gravel. In Montana they'd driven on dirt roads and later snow. Both made different sounds. The loud rolling of wheels over gravel caused a longing for the quiet, snowy mornings. The longing started as an ache in her gut and moved upward to her heart.

  As she turned, she expected to see one of Aunt Ida's neighbors. Instead, her eyes widened to see Aaron's buggy. Aaron's bright-eyed gaze. Aaron's smile.

  She paused, and then hurried his direction. The horse picked up its pace, approaching. "What are you doing here?"

  "Mem had me drive her over to visit Naomi's mom. She mentioned you'd just left. I wanted to make sure you were all right. Thought it too far for you to walk home in the cold."

  Aaron smiled at her, his bright blue eyes sparkling. "Do you mind, Mari, that I've come to offer you a ride?" He leaned toward her. "Problem is, you walk faster than I'd imagined. You're nearly halfway home."

  "Well, not having to walk the other half is much appreciated." She tried to keep her tone light yet the knowledge of what her brother was facing—what he chose to do—was still sinking in.

  Aaron reached a hand to her and she took it, allowing him to guide her into the buggy.

  "And the thought means as much as the action. I appreciate you coming fer me. Checking on me."

  Aaron chuckled, then winced as she scooted closer.

  "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

  Aaron shook his head. "I'd take ten times the pain to have you near."

  "Glad you think so because otherwise the last month or so wouldn't have worked." She chuckled, letting her gaze drift over the frozen ground and the gray clouds that filled the sky. Her emotions felt as barren as her surroundings and she told herself to cheer up. Aaron was here. Everything would be better now.

  They rode along for a while in peaceful silence, both scanning the barren trees, the patches of snow and quiet farms as they passed.

  "Feels good to be home."

  She nodded, but mostly because she was afraid to express her thoughts. She couldn't describe it any other way than an emptiness—an ache she'd been nursing since the last glimpse of the Rocky Mountains had disappeared from the train's window.

  Marianna rested her head on Aaron's shoulder. She thought about Levi's love and dedication to Naomi. Would Aaron make such a sacrifice? Aaron was a good Amish man. He always did what was right, but how far would he go to show her his love? What if she'd come to him in the same situation?

  "My parents asked me to invite you over for Christmas dinner."

  "Really?" She took his hand and squeezed it. "Of course. It'll be gut to get to know your family better."

  "I told Mem you'd say yes. You'll enjoy everyone."

  "Everyone?"

  "Ja, many siblings from both my parents' sides and all their kids. The house will be full. Good thing you like children. I've already had some of them ask if they can call you cousin too. I've spoke of you often. They tell me you sound too good to be true."

  "I do not know whether to take that as a compliment or not."

  "Of course, it is the truth. There is no one as good as you—as pure."

  As he spoke, tension froze up her limbs and tightened her stomach. "That's kind of you, Aaron, but I'm far from perfect. I've already disappointed you so many times, and in our married life I'm sure I'll do so again . . . often."

  He nodded b
ut didn't answer, and the longer they rode in silence the more she found it hard to breathe. All her life, all she'd wanted was to be the perfect Amish daughter to make up for the loss of her sisters. The amazing thing was the closer she grew to God the more she realized she was far from perfect. In fact, relief had flooded over her when she realized she wouldn't have to carry that burden any longer. Or at least she thought she wouldn't be carrying it. Did Aaron realize she'd have bad days now and then? Would he allow her to be herself—her true self?

  And what if she wanted to read the Bible, to sing aloud to God, to pray out loud? None of those were what a gut Amish woman would do . . . but all of them had transformed her life as she grew to know God in new and different ways. Would Aaron accept that? She considered the gift she'd brought him for Christmas too. Would giving it to him ruin everything?

  The horse's hooves clomped on the gravel with the same tempo that worry knocked against her heart.

  "You are bein' mighty quiet."

  She shrugged and lifted her head, looking at him. "I was thinking about yer Christmas present. It—it's something . . . special. If possible, I'd like you to open it when we're alone and not at the family gathering."

  "I don't think that'll be a problem. Will you give me a hint?"

  "Hmmm . . . The hint is it's something you keep opening every day and find new treasure inside."

  "In that case, I already have it." He released one of the reins and brushed her face with his fingers. "Your heart is that to me, Mari. The more I touch it, the more treasure I find . . ."

  His words melted the tension that had been building, and she told herself not to let her own worries ruin all she had that was good. She closed her eyes, relishing in his touch, and letting her concerns drift away.

  "Yer sure a romantic talker for a simple Amish man . . . a girl can get used to this."

  "You're not a girl, Mari, you're a woman. One who's captured my heart . . . and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life not taking that for granted." He sighed. "If you only knew, Marianna. If you only knew."

  Dear June-Sevenies,

  You may have heard by now that I am back in Indiana. The trip went well, and I enjoyed the train ride, especially with Aaron by my side. I haven't told many people, but I cannot keep the news from you—my cherished friends—for much longer. As soon as we are able Aaron and I will be marrying! The last few months spent with him has reminded me of all I loved about him. For so long I'd watched him from afar, dreaming of getting to know him better. The days spent caring for him as he healed from his broken leg confirmed what a gut man he is. I cannot think of another Amish man I know who lives as honorably as Aaron. And what Amish man would be so diligent at preparing for his wife even before he started courting her? Aaron has made it simply impossible for me not to allow his dreams to become my own.

  The wedding will not be soon, but I wish for each of you to attend. You're as close to me as sisters and I cannot think of a better day to have us all together. It's something we've dreamed of—have we not?

  I know most of you made it to Clara's wedding. My thoughts were with you from Montana. And speaking of Clara, congratulations are in order, a baby! Or perhaps babies? I do remember you telling me that both your mother and grandmother carried twins the first pregnancy. Double the blessings!

  Wish you sunny thoughts to cheer up the dreary winter days.

  Marianna

  Chapter Nine

  On Christmas Eve, Marianna sat down at the table with Aunt Ida to follow one of their favorite traditions—designing and creating their own greeting cards. From the time she was a child the tradition was to come to Aunt Ida's house on Christmas Eve to work with rubber stamps, colored inks, decorative cutouts, and scalloped-edged scissors.

  The scent of gingerbread cookies filled the air. The heat from the woodstove filled the room with warmth, and a gentle snow fell outside the windows. Colorful scraps of paper were spread across the table, and the plain room brightened with their presence. Like the quilts Aunt Ida made, creating Christmas cards was another acceptable way to display color and beauty. And Marianna could lose herself in the making of them, even forgetting for a time about being plain. She couldn't help but smile.

  Marianna wrote down a list of those she wanted to give cards to, and the majority of the list was made up of her friends from Montana: Annie, Edgar, Jenny, Kenzie, the Carash family, Eve and Hope Peachy, and of course Ben. Since Christmas was tomorrow her greetings would be late, but she had a feeling her friends wouldn't mind.

  She pulled out a piece of cardstock and nibbled on her lower lip. What special events were happening at the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery? Did Annie host a small Christmas party for the employees? Marianna guessed she did.

  Aunt Ida worked beside her, cutting and gluing as she created three cards in the time it took Marianna to create one. Marianna enjoyed writing a personal message in each, but when she got to Ben's card she didn't know what to say. She decided on an Amish proverb that her grandma used to tell her. "Courage is fear that has said its prayers," she wrote inside then added:

  Thank you for giving me the courage to seek God in new ways. My fear has always been that knowing God better would give me more rules and lists to follow. Instead, I've discovered a Shepherd who leads me beside still waters, a Guide to whisper His love to me along wooded paths, and a Protector who will be there no matter what valley lies ahead. Thank you for being an example to me. I wouldn't have known Him better without seeing God in you.

  She read the message again and her heart warmed. Then, instead of addressing each envelope individually, Marianna put them all inside one manila envelope and sealed it up, addressing it to Edgar at the store's address. She laughed out loud as she imagined his face when he realized she expected him to play Santa.

  After the cards were finished, Marianna took the decorated paper upstairs to wrap the items she'd gotten for Levi, Naomi, Aunt Ida, and Aaron. For Levi she'd brought with her deer jerky from the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery. She'd quilted two small potholders for Aunt Ida and the same for her soon-to-be sister-in-law. And for Aaron . . .

  She pulled the Bible from the box it had come in and held it to her chest. Please, let him understand. Let him be open to reading Your Word for himself. Aaron had attended church his whole life . . . wouldn't reading the words of the One they worshiped be a joy? It was a joy to her now, but she also knew how shocked she'd been when she first discovered Dat with an Englisch Bible . . .

  Yet, all she could do was try.

  It wasn't until Marianna had finished wrapping Aaron's gift that she realized she hadn't created a card for Aaron. She set the package to the side. Was it too late to ask Aunt Ida where she'd put away the card-making supplies? She started downstairs, but noticed all the lanterns had been put out. There was no soft glow coming from under Aunt Ida's door either, which told Marianna her aunt was already in bed.

  At least I can write out a message to put into the card, she thought as she returned to her room. Yet when she sat down she couldn't think of what to say.

  Marianna put down the pen and paper. Tomorrow. She'd think of something tomorrow.

  She'd arrived at Aaron's parents' house early on Christmas morning just as Aaron had requested. As she approached the front door of the Zook house the door opened and Aaron emerged.

  He shut the door behind him, keeping his hand on the doorknob. His eyes watched her as if transfixed. Heat pulsated through her limbs as she looked into his eyes. So bright. So blue. So filled with affection, love.

  She touched her kapp and paused before him. What was it about Aaron that made her feel like a schoolgirl with a crush? He raised an eyebrow but didn't move. Her gaze moved from his eyes to his lips, and she wondered if he waited for a kiss. From his soft smile she knew he did. She also guessed that at least a dozen eyes watched from the window. She didn't need to turn to know his siblings watched their interaction—most likely his mem too. She took a step back and held his gift tighter to her che
st.

  "What are you doing? It's cold and you have no coat," she teased.

  "Is it? As soon as I saw you I didn't realize." He winked. "For some reason my whole body seems warm now. Seeing you warmed me from head to toe as if I'd swallowed the sun."

  "Really now." Her cheeks warmed. "You aren't gonna keep me out here—on the porch—all day, are you?"

  He took her hand and led her off the porch, leaning heavy on the railing as they descended. "No, but I won't let you inside. Not yet. I wish for you to come to the cabin first. "I'd want a few minutes alone with you while I still have the chance. Once everyone arrives you can be certain we won't have a moment together."

  They walked side by side to the cabin. As they strode up to it, she imagined decorating it next year with simple candles and maybe greenery in the window—not too much to be prideful, but enough to beautify their home in a simple, lovely way.

  "Can I give you your present first?" Aaron led her through the front door, shutting it behind him.

  "Ja, if you insist." She smiled as she looked around. The woodstove was lit and a plate of his mother's Christmas cookies sat on the counter.

  "Mem accused my younger siblings for sneaking those." He chuckled. "No one guessed that I was the thief."

  She pulled a sugar cookie from the top.

  Aaron smiled and held up a hand. "Wait here." He strode to the second room and soon emerged with a wooden crate, setting it down before her.

  "This is for me? A whole crate? What could be inside?" Marianna sunk to her knees and opened the top. Lifting the lid her eyes widened.

  Inside were books—hardback, old, dusty—exactly the type she liked to read.

  "Aaron . . . there are so many!" She picked up a copy with a burgundy copy and turned it over in her hand. "My Antonia. It looks good." She continued looking through them. Some were titles she knew, others she'd never seen before.