Mary grasped for that straw. “Could we stop at her place? That would be perfect, and if she doesn’t have enough food for us, we’ll walk home.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Willard agreed. “Don’t you think so, Betsy?”
There was a mumble from the backseat, which Willard ignored. He started the car and pulled out of the church parking lot. They drove in silence toward town. Mary waited for another protest from Betsy, but the words didn’t come until Willard parked the car in Mrs. Gabert’s driveway.
“Do you think this is wise?” Betsy ventured. “I’m sure the poor woman will be shocked out of her wits.”
“Then we’ll say hi and bye,” Mary declared, climbing out of the car. “There will be leftovers from supper in the fridge at home.”
Betsy grumbled but followed her. Willard led the way up the sidewalk and into the house without knocking. “Grandma,” he called out. “I’ve brought visitors.”
Mrs. Gabert appeared from the direction of the living room. Her startled look quickly changed to a smile. “Mary and Betsy! Willard said he was picking you up for the talk and dinner tonight, but it’s a little early. Did my grandson rush you through the meal?”
“We decided to come here,” Willard told her. “I spoke from my heart about Kenya, and home seemed like a better place than a restaurant to gather our thoughts.”
“You are so welcome,” Mrs. Gabert declared. “Both of you. There’s bologna and ham in the fridge, and we have chips and orange juice. If you’ll give me just a minute, I’ll make sandwiches.”
Mary took charge. “We can do that. Why don’t you sit at the table with us, and we can talk?”
Betsy joined in, and moments later the sandwiches, drinks, and chips were spread out.
Willard bowed his head and prayed, “Dear Father in heaven, thank You for the food set before us and for Mary and Betsy. They are dear people who share Your passion for lost and hurting people. Bless them as they return to their community. I thank You for the brief moment I have shared their lives. May You give them great grace and answer their prayers, which I know they will cry out from their hearts for the great needs in Kenya. Thank You, and amen.”
“Amen,” Betsy echoed, but Mary kept her head bowed for a moment longer. Tears had formed in her eyes at Willard’s tender words. The man’s compassion moved her deeply.
“So what did you share about tonight?” Mrs. Gabert asked.
“It’s a story you have heard before,” Willard replied. “About the boy seated outside the restaurant.”
Mrs. Gabert nodded. “I remember. I’m not surprised you told that story. The Lord has blessed these weeks abundantly and has taught us much about your work. Watching Mary and Betsy open their hearts to the needs in Kenya has challenged me and warmed my heart. Mary might even write some inspired poetry on the boy sitting outside the restaurant.”
Mary felt their eyes on her, and she hurried to speak. “I don’t think poetry and dreams seem appropriate in the face of such tragedy.”
“Ah, but they are,” Mrs. Gabert said. “They sustain the soul and are of greater benefit than we can imagine. We must not languish in sorrow ourselves because of the evil in this world.”
“That’s what Willard said!” Betsy added.
Mrs. Gabert chuckled. “I’m glad to see he has learned his lessons well.”
They laughed together.
“See?” Willard said. “I told you I didn’t come up with those ideas by myself.”
Mrs. Gabert beamed at her grandson, and Mary, too, snuck a glance at his face. Willard was a handsome, noble, and deeply dedicated believer. But he was also an Englisha man and out of her reach. She drew a quick breath and bit down on her sandwich.
Thankfully, Betsy chattered away. “You should have heard him embarrass both of us in front of everyone, Mrs. Gabert. He’s done that twice now, introducing us as his special guests to the church congregation.”
Willard’s grin grew wicked. “It’s true!”
“But we’re Amish,” Betsy protested. “Even I, who don’t plan to stay in the community, still dislike having attention drawn to myself.”
Willard didn’t back down an inch. “You like my charming ways. Admit it. You looked perfectly happy waving to the crowd.”
Betsy joined in the laughter. “I guess I did. So tell me, why aren’t you married?”
Mary wanted to hide under the table.
Willard’s face fell. “Do we have to go there? I don’t want to spoil a wonderful evening.”
“Sorry,” Betsy said. “It just seemed the logical question.”
“He had his heart broken like Mary’s,” Mrs. Gabert offered.
Betsy’s glance went first to the one and then the other. “So you two do have a lot in common.”
“Betsy, please!” Mary exclaimed, forcing herself to stand. “We have to be going. Thanks so much for the sandwiches, Mrs. Gabert, and for the evening, Willard. I learned so much, and the community women will be working on those blankets soon.”
“But you just arrived,” Mrs. Gabert said.
Willard was on his feet, but Mary rushed past him and out the front door.
Betsy was panting by the time she caught up to her sister on the steep incline out of town. “What is wrong with you, Mary? That was so rude.”
“So was your remark right in front of everyone.”
“I didn’t say anything rude, Mary.”
“Yes, you did.”
“What did I say?”
Mary said nothing until they reached the top of the hill. Above them, the starry spread of the heavens opened up.
“It’s not true,” Mary whispered toward the skies. “I’m not in love with an Englisha man.”
Only the stars answered her, twinkling brightly, far above the evil and wickedness of mankind. Willard had been right. Life did go on, full of the Lord’s love and grace.
“I can’t be!” Mary said loudly this time.
She marched resolutely onward. Betsy remained silent until they reached the Yoders’ driveway, where the light spilled out of the living room window across the lawn.
“You could find your home with Willard,” Betsy told her.
“Don’t even say such things,” Mary retorted. Then she dashed for the house.
TWENTY
The parting hymn on Sunday evening at Bishop Miller’s home concluded with haunting notes of sadness and joy: “Blessed be the tie that binds our hearts in kindred love.”
Cousin Esther, who was seated beside Mary on the front bench, opened her mouth—ready to ask questions.
Mary smiled politely and muttered, “I have to go.”
She did have to go because Stephen had just disappeared out the bishop’s front door. He had appeared totally out of place throughout the evening, seated on the second bench with much younger men. Stephen rarely came out on Sunday evenings anymore, and everyone had given him strange looks or sly smiles. That he had a date was the obvious conclusion, and Mary was the girl they landed on as the logical choice. She didn’t want to answer questions about her decision to accept Stephen’s offer. She did care about the man—just not in the way everyone assumed.
Mary slipped into the mudroom ahead of the other dating girls to grab her shawl and beat them out the door. Stephen’s buggy was parked on the far side of the barn, and he had his horse in the shafts when Mary arrived.
“Goot evening,” she greeted him out of the darkness.
He jumped and muttered, “Goot evening. Yah, goot evening.”
Mary fastened the tugs on her side and pulled herself up onto the buggy seat. Stephen fumbled with the lines for a moment before he threw them inside and climbed up himself. Mary instinctively grabbed for the reins. She remembered that Josiah’s horse would dash out of the driveway the moment someone didn’t hang on tight.
Stephen settled on the seat and stared at the reins for a few seconds before he took them from her hands.
“Giddyap!” he hollered to his horse. The beast
lumbered out of the driveway, and Mary pulled her head back as they passed the steady girls who were helping their boyfriends hitch up. Most of them were craning their necks to see if their conclusion had been correct.
“I’m not…I really am not used to this,” Stephen stated. “Sorry if…I mean, I’m nervous, I guess. But this is, I’m sure, the Lord’s will.”
“It’s okay,” she comforted him. “They’ll get used to it.”
Stephen’s face lifted considerably, but he said nothing. Had she just agreed to further dates with him? That conclusion seemed apparent enough to Stephen. Well, she did plan to, if needed. But first she had this date in front of her.
Stephen glanced at her from his side of the buggy. “I’m, I mean, how do I say this? I’m still surprised you are doing this—letting me take you home so we can talk. For my part, I want to say, before we get started with anything else, since it’s a heaviness on my mind, that I can never fill Josiah Beiler’s shoes, though the Lord knows I will try. I’ll try harder than I’ve ever tried before in my life.”
“Don’t do that, Stephen. You are yourself, and you can be no one else.”
He appeared skeptical.
“Everyone is the happiest when they are true to themselves,” she told him.
He grunted, apparently unconvinced. The horse clomped down Tanners Road to the stop sign and shook his head when Stephen pulled the reins right. “Sorry. I mean, the horse wants to go…well, I guess you know my house is the other way.”
“I know.”
“You do?” His skepticism rose higher.
“I know where you live, Stephen. West on Clinton Road, the farthest place out.”
“You do know, I see you do, where I live. But how is this, I mean, I never have the church services there, or any youth activities.”
“You are part of the community, Stephen. I know where you live, and so does everyone else.”
“I see,” he said, moving about on his seat.
But he didn’t see. She was sure about that.
Stephen navigated the turn at Freybush with only a quick check for headlights toward the west. His horse swished its tail as objection to the easterly direction of travel.
Mary broke the silence. “How late will you stay tonight?”
Stephen managed a laugh. “I’m an old man, you know, real old. But I suppose, now that I think about it, perhaps I could, if I really tried hard, stay up until midnight. At least, I think the rest of the dating couples do that.”
When Mary didn’t respond, he peered at her in the darkness.
“How late did Josiah stay?”
Mary kept her eyes on the road ahead, where the dark shadows danced with Stephen’s feeble buggy lights. Josiah had stayed until well after two o’clock some Monday mornings as they laughed and told each other stories on the living room couch. Those times were gone, and Stephen didn’t need to know the details.
Stephen tried again. “I’m sorry if I’m not—you know—like Josiah, but this is, I am certain, the Lord’s will.”
“It’s okay,” Mary said.
He didn’t respond as they approached the Yoders’ driveway. Stephen turned in and brought his horse to a lumbering stop by the barn door. Mary hopped down to wait while Stephen tied his horse.
He approached her cautiously. “What, I mean, where…how is this done? Seeing you into the house?”
Mary studied his face. “Have you never dated before?”
He dropped his head. “I once did, a long time ago, but not properly. Since then, many times, the Lord knows I have prayed. I have asked many girls, often in my younger years, but not so much anymore, when hope has failed me. The will of the Lord has grown dimmer. Only you, Mary, of all people, rejected though you were. Forgive me, but I took this as a sign, a bright sign, of the Lord’s will for me.”
“Come.” She took his hand. “This is how it’s done. You walk the woman into the house, and you sit on the couch while she gets something to eat. Then you talk.”
He followed her. “Are you making fun of me, or laughing, Mary? At least, as I think the others are doing?”
Mary’s eyes met his. “I’m not, Stephen. Dating a girl is not that difficult. Who have you been asking?”
He pressed his lips together. “I would rather not say, if you don’t mind.”
“The wrong ones, apparently,” Mary muttered quietly. “I tried to be honest with you, Stephen, about why I’m letting you bring me home.”
Confusion settled on his face. “Are you saying, Mary, now that we are here, that you want me to leave again? If you don’t mind, may I at least sit beside you on the couch? Please, Mary? There is a reason, which I cannot say, but if you would…”
“What reason are you referring to, Stephen?”
Stephen stared at her. “I would not speak of such things that the Lord has willed. But this I know for sure. Being with you is the Lord’s will.”
“Come.” Mary led him forward again. “We need to talk.”
He didn’t protest and was seated on the couch when Gerald drove in with Betsy.
“Wait here,” Mary told him. She went into the kitchen and picked up a plate of brownies when Betsy burst in through the mudroom door.
“Is he in the living room?” Betsy whispered. “That awful man?”
“Go.” Mary shooed her sister out. “Mind your own business tonight.”
Betsy raised her voice higher. “You have lost your mind. You run away from a handsome man like Willard and take up with a crazy fleabag like that.”
“I will take the broom to you if you don’t go,” Mary warned.
Betsy snorted and dashed through the living room without a word to Stephen, even when he wished her a goot evening.
Gerald had a big grin on his face when he appeared. He filled his hands with brownies, and because there were plenty, Mary didn’t object.
With his mouth full, he went into the living room and mumbled, “Goot evening to you,” in response to Stephen’s greeting.
Mary waited until Gerald had climbed the stairs before she entered with a plate of brownies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other.
Stephen appeared pained.
“Well, that’s my family,” she told him. Apologies were not expected, so she offered none.
“If it’s okay to have at least one brownie, I’ll leave after that,” he said.
“Stephen, you can have as many as you’d like.” She set the plate and the glass of milk in front of him. “We need to talk,” she said again.
His hand trembled as he took the brownie and tasted a bite.
Mary waited until he had taken a swallow of milk before she continued. “I’m going to try again, very slowly, to explain myself, Stephen. First of all, I can never be your girlfriend or love you in that way. Let’s not argue about why. That’s not the point, and let’s not talk about the Lord’s will. You are wrong on that point, but I want to help you find a woman who can be your frau. Widows in the community would welcome your invitation to date them and eventually marry. At least I think so, and if we can make some progress in the right direction, that would help. That’s where I come in. Do you understand?”
“You are…I mean, I don’t, maybe I never will understand what you mean.” He stared again, a brownie halfway to his mouth.
“I will never fall in love with you, Stephen. Not enough to marry you. Spending time with me is wasting your time unless I can help you.”
His puzzled look only grew. “Mary, this is the Lord’s will. Why else would I be sitting on your couch and eating brownies? Mary, please do not say that…Not in a thousand years would you be wasting my time.”
She let out a long breath. “Well, that is a different perspective, but that’s not going to happen, Stephen. Not what you are hoping.”
“You are, how do I ask this, not really truly in love with me?”
Mary nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Then who, if I may ask, is this man—the one you ar
e in love with?”
Mary sighed. “I’m not in love with anyone. I’m trying to help you. Can we stay focused on that point? And afterward we might talk about Kenyan missions, a wunderbah subject I have been learning about. Would you like that?”
He took a bite from the brownie. “I know nothing about this Kenya, wherever that is, perhaps on the other side of the world. Is it an island in the ocean? And what does it matter, Mary? I just want to be here tonight, if you don’t object, with you. This is the Lord’s will.”
“We are getting nowhere, Stephen. Why can’t you understand?”
“I do understand your words, you say them plainly enough, but where do they go? That I do not understand. Not if this is the Lord’s will.”
“I am not dating you, Stephen, not in the usual way. I want to help, but do not hope that I will consent to marry you. Can you understand that?”
He stared at a brownie for a moment before he nodded.
“So you do understand?” Skepticism was on her face now.
He shrugged. “Maybe? You want to help me, improve me, change me, tell me what the Lord’s will is? And then someday I might have a frau?”
“But not me,” Mary added.
“Not you,” he agreed.
“Then we have accomplished something tonight.” Mary reached for a brownie.
Beside her on the couch Stephen gulped down another one with a look of bliss on his face. She hoped they were on the same page now…but then again, maybe they weren’t.
TWENTY-ONE
Mary briskly walked north on Highway 163 instead of her usual southerly direction toward Fort Plain. A chill crept into her shawl from the wind coming off the Adirondacks. She paused to take a deep breath of the early morning air. Betsy had agreed to take her place at the food co-op on the day before Thanksgiving so she could attend the sewing circle. Today the women from the community would express their gratitude to the Lord by making blankets for the glue boys in Kenya. How blessed she was, and how happy. What an honor the Lord had granted her, that she could send aid to a country she knew little about but where the need was so great.
Mamm had continued her helpfulness and spoken with the deacon’s frau, Rachel, and the bishop’s frau, Annie. The two women had consulted their husbands, and the project now had the community’s stamp of approval. This weekend Stephen would bring Mary home again after the singing, and they would tackle his need of a frau. Her plate was full, to say the least. She had so many things she wanted to tell Stephen. She hoped their time together would be as fruitful as this day would be.
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