by Ruth Reid
She glanced in the same direction, but not seeing anything, she turned back. Tobias had vanished. She scrambled to her feet and turned a complete circle. There was no trace of him.
Branches snapped behind her, and Judith’s heart thumped like a horse trotting on pavement. She spun around and came face-to-face with Andrew.
She gave a loud sigh to warn him he wasn’t welcome. His arrival must have caused Tobias to disappear. Now she might not ever learn her purpose. But then, without Levi, her purpose seemed dismal anyway. Maybe that was why Tobias hadn’t revealed the answer. The truth would have been unbearable.
Andrew steadied his gaze on her. If his expression was intended to display his pity or to mock her pain, she didn’t know and didn’t care to find out. At this point, she didn’t dare trust anyone.
She huffed, hoping he would take the hint and leave. When he didn’t budge, she moved under a nearby birch tree for shade.
Andrew stood in the same place, head bowed. He must be pondering something. Not that it mattered. She just wished he’d take his thoughts and move downriver.
When he lifted his head, he ignored her glare and kept his focus trained on her as he moved closer.
Judith found it disturbing that she couldn’t resist his dimples. Today, she found everything about his intrusion in her life disturbing. She narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
He studied the birch tree that she leaned against and peeled off a thin layer of white bark. “I was worried about you.”
She bit her bottom lip, wondering if he’d seen Tobias, then disregarded that thought. If Andrew had seen a mammoth-sized Englisch man here at the river, he would have said something. But what if he had overheard only her side of their conversation? If he told his father, she’d be doomed. The bishop had already accused her of blasphemy. She’d have to leave the community . . . her family . . . leave—
“Judith, are you all right?” The groove deepened between Andrew’s eyes.
Her gaze darted from his to the river to the area where Tobias had stood before he vanished.
Andrew tossed the bark he had peeled to the ground and studied her face.
Not wishing to be under the spotlight of his gaze, she lowered her head and looked at the film of dust collecting in the cracks of her leather shoes. Lord, will You help me?
“I know why you ran off.” His words tore through the silence.
Judith jerked her head up, surprised by his statement. “Then why did you follow me here?” Her throat tightened. “I suppose you want a gut laugh too?” She pushed past him and stormed over to the river. She wasn’t about to be mocked anymore.
Andrew caught up to her at the edge of the riverbank. His hand locked around her arm, and he pulled her back as sand shifted under her feet and spilled over the embankment. Once he’d taken her several feet from the water, he released her arm.
“Look at me,” he said.
Judith brought her head up and stared into his russet eyes.
“I’m not laughing.”
His jaw was set and his eyes focused, leaving no room for humor in his expression. He hadn’t been mocking her pain. Still, she couldn’t continue to look into his eyes and not cry in front of him. She didn’t want his pity.
Andrew scuffed his boot in the dirt. “Don’t become bitter.”
Judith gritted her teeth. If he thought he could lecture her now, he was wrong. Planting her fists on her hips, she leaned forward. “Don’t tell me how to feel.” After she’d been betrayed by her sister and by the man she thought she loved, Andrew was worried about her becoming bitter?
“Apparently you didn’t see them. They were—” Warmth covered her face. She turned her back to Andrew and masked her face with her hands.
“I know bitterness and envy will choke the life from you.” He moved in front of her and pulled her hands away from her face. “Don’t let that seed grow.”
His sober expression reminded her of the bishop. Not only did he look like his father, but now he sounded like him as well. “What are you going to do next, tell me how I’m sinning?”
Andrew clamped his mouth. Good. She’d silenced him. Maybe now he’d leave her alone. She hiked back to the river, stopping before she reached the edge. A crimson maple leaf floating with the water current reminded her of Tobias. She looked up to the barren treetops.
God, I need You.
Andrew came up beside her. “You know bitterness and envy are sin. I don’t have to remind you of that.”
But he had reminded her, heaping guilt on her conscience. All she wanted was a few hours to wallow in self-pity. After all, even dogs were allowed to lick their wounds.
Judith pivoted to face Andrew. “They spent the night together. So they know each other quite well.”
His stiff facial expression didn’t change.
“Didn’t you see them? Their tight embrace was—”
Andrew lifted his hand to cover her mouth, stifling the last part of her statement. “I know.” He stared hard at her for a moment, then as though he realized his hand was covering her mouth, his eyes opened wide and he jerked his hand away. It took him a few breaths before the grim lines around his mouth relaxed. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as if he had to force something down with a hard swallow.
“You know what?”
“I, um . . . I know.” Sweat dappled his forehead as he stalled to reply. “I saw them together in the barn earlier.”
His statement rolled over in her mind until her insides heated up and the tip of her tongue tasted fire. “Then preach to them about sin.”
He stepped closer until he stood inches from her, then leaned forward even more. “Sin is sin.”
“Are you implying that I’m to blame? They can’t keep their hands off each other, and it becomes my fault!” She turned her back to him, then whirled around to face him with her finger wagging. “Nau, because of you, I have to add anger to my list of sins.”
He backed up, but she followed. With fisted hands resting on her hips, she leaned forward. “Are you pleased with yourself, Bishop Junior?”
Andrew’s brows furrowed for the briefest second before he closed his eyes. Then without speaking a word he walked away.
Chapter Eleven
Was he pleased with himself?
Of course Andrew wasn’t pleased that he had fueled Judith’s wrath. He kicked a rock along the path through the woods. He’d been too hard on her. The sadness in her eyes revealed her pain. Although finding Levi and Martha together had shocked Judith, his own remarks at the river added kerosene to her fire. He couldn’t blame her defensive response, even calling him Bishop Junior. Her mocking didn’t carry the same punch as Levi’s words did. Andrew reached the rock he’d kicked and sent it farther down the trail. If he dwelled on Levi’s name-calling, hatred could take root in him.
“Forgive me, Father. Once again, I repent of my wrongful attitude. For coveting what Levi takes for granted, Judith’s love. Please forgive me, but my heart still aches for Esther. And now on a different scale I find myself wanting to protect Judith from Levi. Show her how to forgive Levi and Martha. I don’t want this hurt to consume her life. And once again, I ask that bitterness and envy do not consume mine.”
Andrew looked behind him on the path, hoping to see Judith. He wanted the chance to explain. His intention of following her to the river wasn’t to make her more upset. He was worried. Andrew kicked the rock with enough force to send it skipping over the pine-needle path several feet ahead. After he’d provoked her to anger and caused her to sin, she would never believe he wanted to be her friend.
He hated how Levi had crushed her heart. Judith deserved better. Levi’s playfulness was deceptive—a trap. His cousin and Martha deserved each other.
Once he reached the Fischers’ yard and noticed that Levi’s horse was still tied to the post, he looked over his shoulder again for Judith. He didn’t want her walking back to find that Levi hadn’t left. Andrew might have lost his chance to keep her company
at the river, but if she returned before Levi left, she’d need him as a decoy.
Judith sat on the large boulder and listened to the rush of water. She wanted to be alone, but in the solitude, thoughts of Andrew’s expression plagued her. She shouldn’t have spoken to him in anger. He wasn’t Levi. It wasn’t Andrew’s fault that Levi was a cad.
Judith sighed, disappointed with herself. She glanced at the ground, and a speckled stone embedded in the dirt caught her eye. After digging it out and wiping it off, she rotated it in the palm of her hand, admiring its sparkling hues. She tossed it and listened as it plunked into the water. The current flipped the rock over, and she wondered where it would be downstream in a day, a month, a year.
She wondered if her sins could wash away so easily—if being baptized and dedicated to following Christ was similar. She’d been taking classes for baptism and to join the church, but now she questioned her intentions. She despised her sister and couldn’t imagine forgiving Levi.
Andrew was right. She was bitter and envious. She was as much a sinner as those she accused; the same people she despised. How could God see her as anything but a sinner?
“God, I know I’m expected to forgive so that I too can be forgiven. It’s hard. Levi and Martha might as well have snatched my heart and wrung it like a rag. I don’t have love inside me for them.” She paused and lifted her face toward the sky. “I am sorry for my behavior toward Andrew. He only desired me to recognize my sins. I am a sinner, but I need You to show me how to forgive.”
Judith opened her eyes and bent toward the water. Even though the river wasn’t more than three feet deep and was clear to the bottom, she couldn’t locate the rock. Unable to find where it had traveled, she turned for home.
Judith rounded the corner of the barn and was startled to find Levi harnessing his horse to the buggy. Her rage instantly rekindled. He should have had the decency to leave before now. She scanned the yard for her sister. Martha wasn’t anywhere in sight.
“Judith.”
Her spine crawled at the sound of Levi’s voice. Ignoring his call, she picked up her pace, heading straight for the house. How could she receive forgiveness when his very presence triggered hatred?
Andrew stepped out of the barn and came up beside her. He nodded in Levi’s direction. “Just pretend you’re not mad at me, and I’ll keep him away from you.”
What was Andrew’s intention—to protect her from lashing out at Levi in anger? She heard Levi approach but refused to look his way. She glanced at Andrew, who was keeping pace at her side.
“Don’t let him—”
“Cause me to sin?”
“Let it go,” he whispered.
“And how do I do that?”
“Pretend he doesn’t bother you. Laugh. Pretend I said something funny.”
The “bishop junior” suggesting he could say something humorous was funny in and of itself.
“Ha ha.”
“That’s a start.” Andrew chuckled. “But I’m not that boring. You can laugh louder.”
Judith couldn’t help but laugh, seeing him exaggerate a grimace.
Andrew’s willingness to help was admirable, especially after she’d been cruel to him.
Levi caught up to them. “Judith, can we talk for a minute?”
“This isn’t a gut time, Levi.” She kept her focus on Andrew, and Levi dropped back. Feeling an odd sense of strength, she laughed harder. Andrew’s plan worked. She could pretend Levi didn’t bother her. She glanced at the house. Martha might be harder to avoid.
Andrew walked up the porch steps with her and paused at the front door. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“Ach, does it surprise you that storytellers are gut pretenders?”
“I am pleasantly surprised,” he answered.
“Denki.”
He bobbed his head toward the door. “Are you going to be all right with her?”
“And what will you do if I say nay? Move in with us?”
He chuckled. “If Ich muscht.” He tapped the brim of his hat. “I take my pretend role seriously too.”
Judith turned the doorknob. “Denki, again.”
Andrew looked past her through the opened door, then back to her. “Will I see you meiya?”
“I, um . . .” She leaned forward to whisper. “Are we still pretending?”
He shrugged.
Judith assumed Martha was standing somewhere near the doorway. “I’d like that.”
She made sure her answer sounded convincing for her sister’s benefit. She’d still have to convince herself that spending time with Andrew would be wise. Though she had to admit that even Levi had never made her laugh with such ease.
Chapter Twelve
Andrew wheeled the ax, splitting the oak into two sizable chunks. He turned the firewood slab on the stump and quartered it into usable stove pieces. With his thoughts concentrated on Levi’s improper behavior and the devastated look in Judith’s eyes, he hadn’t noticed his father’s buggy approaching until he readied another log to split.
His father climbed out from the buggy, Bible in hand. This was late for him to be out on visitation. Perhaps he’d been at a meeting with one of the deacons whose duty regularly involved reporting church trouble. Levi’s and Martha’s names came to Andrew’s mind.
“You split all this today?”
Andrew lifted his hat off his forehead and used his shirtsleeve to wipe his brow. “Jah.” He’d worked up a sweat in the chilly autumn afternoon trying to chop enough wood to fill the wood-box for the cookstove before nightfall.
“Did you milk the Fischers’ cows today?”
“Jah.”
“Any more talk from Judith about an angel?”
“Nay.” He thought of telling his father about Levi and Martha, then decided against it. Besides, the news should come from one of the deacons. He’d speak privately with David if the opportunity arose.
Mamm opened the back door. “Supper is ready.”
Andrew leaned the ax against the stump. He’d worked up more than sweat—he’d developed a hearty appetite. He loaded his arms with firewood and followed his father to the house. The scent of beef casserole grew stronger the closer he came to the kitchen. Andrew unloaded the wood and dusted his hands of bark chips, then washed up before joining his parents at the table. He bowed his head in quiet grace.
His mother ladled a spoonful of food onto a plate. “Any news of Samuel?”
“Nay change,” his father replied.
Mamm passed the serving spoon to Andrew. “During our time quilting today, the womenfolk were filled with talk.” She buttered a biscuit as she continued. “Some believe Judith, and others think she might be trying to gain attention.” Mamm set her biscuit aside and sampled the food. She gave a slight nod of approval and continued. “She’s overrun with guilt, if you ask me. Poor Samuel wasn’t watched. What was he doing on the roof?”
Andrew glanced at his father. The bishop continued eating without showing any interest in his wife’s conversation.
“I’ve always liked Judith, but I’m afraid the community is divided in their opinions. She wasn’t invited to the quilting frolic for fear she would fasavvahra the samling.”
Sour the gathering. Andrew cleared his throat, a subtle attempt to cause his mother to pause. “Shouldn’t the women embrace Judith? She hasn’t been shunned. She isn’t even baptized yet.”
His mother and father exchanged glances, and she lowered her gaze.
The bishop turned his attention to Andrew. “While leniency is encouraged, I won’t permit church strife.” He paused and folded his hands before continuing. “Once Samuel is home, you won’t need to spend so much time at the Fischer home.”
Although Andrew nodded, something strong tore at his heart. The Fischers would continue to require extra help on the farm. Did his father intend to withdraw the community support, or was he merely interested in Andrew keeping his distance?
Judith ran the bristled brush over Rusty’s
neck. Daed had given the old horse to Samuel after it had grown too old to be a driver.
Her brother loved spending time in the barn, and she’d often find him inside Rusty’s stall, brushing him.
“Your winter coat is thickening.” She patted Rusty’s neck and moved the brush to the horse’s flank. As helpless as Samuel’s condition left her feeling, somehow grooming Rusty offered comfort. And after finding Levi and Martha together, she needed the solitude of the barn. Her dreams of marriage had certainly shattered. Her heart would not ever mend.
Light entered the barn as David stepped inside. He startled. Apparently she’d taken him by surprise.
“I didn’t know anyone was in here,” he said, approaching the stall.
“How’s Samuel?”
David shook his head. “Nay better.” He reached for the harness dangling from the wall peg. “The boys and I are planning to take the pumpkins to market meiya.” He leaned his elbow on the stall gate. “How are you doing?”
“Gut.” She kept her focus on the horse. If she looked at him, her brother would see that something troubled her deeply, and this wasn’t the time to tattle on Martha.
“I wanted to talk with you about Samuel kumming home.”
“Jah.” She stopped brushing and came out from the stall.
“I don’t want you talking about him walking.” His voice soft, he continued. “Judith, the accident wasn’t your fault.”
Tears collected in her eyes. She wished she could believe her brother’s words.
He placed his hand on her shoulder and tipped his head to see her face. “I know you feel bad. We all do. But—”
She closed her eyes, bracing herself while he paused to collect his words.
“Judith, it is not gut for the family to make wild prophetic claims. I fear if you continue, you’ll be sent away.”
