Andrew

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  “Why? So you can break my heart again?” She hadn’t meant to say it that way. It sounded like he’d already broken her heart once. “What I mean is that I trusted you, and you failed me. I won’t give you a chance to do it again.”

  He moaned softly, closed his eyes, and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “I can fill a whole silo with things I should have done. I have been dumm and frightened and angry, but I would never forgive myself if . . .” He wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Her skin felt hot where he touched her. “I love you, Mary. You have to understand. I don’t see you as just a friend. I love you. Please don’t leave.”

  Mary could barely breathe. The heat from his fingers spread up her arm. Wouldn’t it be wunderbarr? Ach, how she wished it was true. “You don’t love me.”

  “What kind of thing is that to say? I know my own heart.”

  “I was someone new, someone wounded and broken, and you thought you needed to save me. Maybe you thought you were doing your Christian duty to be my friend. Maybe you thought you could change me.”

  “I don’t want to change you. I love you just the way you are.”

  “Then you should have trusted me. Your loyalty was planted solidly with Wallace that day. I saw it in your eyes. Where is the love in that?”

  With his agitation growing, he stood up and started pacing around the room. “I’ve been weak and foolish, Mary. But I will never do anything again to make you question my love. At least I’ll do my very best.”

  She hated to say it out loud, but Andrew was getting carried away. It had to be said. “Where can love lead us, Andrew?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You might as well admit it. You may think you love me, but you would never marry me.” Why did her voice crack? This was nothing she hadn’t already accepted. “Amish boys do not want girls like me for fraas.”

  He acted as if he had no idea what she was talking about. “Why not?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know, Andrew Petersheim. I have been with another man. I will not be pure on my wedding day. What a disappointment for my husband on his wedding night.” She let the sarcasm drip from her lips and pulled ElJay tighter to her chest.

  She was puzzled by the look of bewilderment on his face, as if every word from her mouth shocked him to the core. Hadn’t he considered this before now? Or maybe he was shocked that she would be so blunt about it, bringing up something that went without saying.

  He drew his brows together until they were almost touching. “Why do you kick yourself in the teeth like that?”

  “Because everybody else does.” Her voice trembled, and she looked away from his sapphire-blue eyes, resenting him for making her lose her carefully guarded composure.

  He slid closer to her on the sofa, his sense of urgency apparent in the way he clasped his hands together. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? I love you. Love you. None of that matters to me.”

  “It should.”

  “Do you think it should matter, or do you think I believe it should matter?”

  “You’re an Amish man. Of course you think it matters.”

  Andrew’s gaze pierced right through her skull. “Do I? Or do you just have a low opinion of me? Can you honestly believe that what you did in the past would make me reject you? I’ve met Josh. I know what you did with him, and I know why you did it. I know you were lost and searching for freedom, for someone to show you a little affection.”

  Her heart fluttered to life like the soft wings of a butterfly. Did he truly believe what he was saying? How could he? She didn’t want to believe him, except Andrew wasn’t a liar. He wouldn’t say the words just because she wanted to hear them. It felt as if a cool breeze blew through the room.

  “A man who would reject you because of your past sins doesn’t deserve you,” he said.

  The corners of her mouth twitched, as if her mouth wanted to smile without her permission. “And you do?”

  “Do what?”

  “Deserve me?”

  He studied her face, and something shifted in his eyes. “Ach, vell, I don’t deserve you either, but I’d be a fool to spurn you because of things you did in the past.” He bowed his head to hide a hopeful smile. “Besides, you make beautiful babies.”

  “Yes I do.”

  He slid his finger into ElJay’s again. “Do I . . . do I have a chance with you, Mary? Or is it too late?”

  Mary couldn’t look at him for fear her heart would either burst with happiness or break in despair. She had dreamed of this moment more than once, Andrew declaring his undying love, her throwing her arms around him in unfettered joy. But she hadn’t allowed herself even the tiniest sliver of hope. Now that the moment was here she was so confused, she almost wished it away. It was so much easier to hold on to the hurt, to let them drive her away, to give her no choice but to leave. Andrew had just made her decision infinitely harder.

  The longing on his face made her want to weep. “Do you want to hold the buplie?” she said softly.

  “I do.”

  She gently placed ElJay in Andrew’s arms. He supported her head in the crook of his elbow and traced his finger around the curve of her little ear. “You’ve held a buplie before,” she said.

  “Mamm needed a lot of help with Benji and Alfie.”

  “Of course. No wonder you’re so patient with them.”

  He played with ElJay’s little fingers before moving his gaze to Mary’s face. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  She lowered her eyes. “I know.”

  “Is there any chance for me?”

  Mary sighed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I love you.”

  She couldn’t look at him, but she could hear the hope in his voice. “Is there a wrong way to take that?”

  “Yes, Andrew, there is.” Mary got up the courage to look at him and breathed in a thousand new worries. “I may choose to leave. We both might end up brokenhearted.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said, losing any hint of a smile. “There is a place for you here. I want to marry you. If you truly love me like you say you do, isn’t love a good enough reason to stay?”

  She stood and pretended to examine the stitches on the quilt. “I’ve known it for weeks, you know.”

  “Known what?”

  “That I love you.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, the hesitation evident in his voice. “I’ve known it for weeks too, even though I didn’t want to admit it.”

  “I’m going to be honest with you, Andrew.”

  “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  “Loving you, loving anyone, makes me vulnerable. I can never be truly and completely free if I give you my heart. Look how easy it was for you to hurt me. I don’t know if I want to give you that much power over my life.”

  He nodded slowly. “Loving someone can hurt. It can also be the most wunderbarr thing in the world. Don’t you think it’s worth the risk?”

  She ground her teeth together. “But what about your feelings? If I stayed in Bienenstock and married you, would I be doing it because I love you or because my buplie needs a fater? Wouldn’t you forever wonder if I was using you the same way I used Josh? I love you too much to do that to you, Andrew.”

  “I know your heart. How could I wonder such a thing when everything about you is love?” Andrew said. “If you were that desperate for a fater for your baby, you would have gone home with Josh, and you wouldn’t be thinking about leaving now.”

  “But even you can see how selfish I’m being. I can’t help it. I could never be happy if I felt I was living in a cage. I want my freedom. I want my choices. I sound like a spoiled child, but I have to be honest with myself.” Mary hated showing Andrew so much of her weakness, but she had no other explanation left but the truth.

  Instead of seeming offended, Andrew studied her face with nothing but compassion and heartbreak in his eyes. “What is freedom to you, Mary?”

  “It means making my
own choices, not being forced to do anything.”

  “Do you feel like you’re being forced to love me?”

  “Nae, but loving you forces me to make certain choices, like staying in Bienenstock.”

  “I know you don’t like me to argue with you, but even if you love me, you have the freedom to leave and the freedom to stay. Staying is no less a choice than leaving.”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “When you were younger, you saw your life here as a prison, but were you any freer when you lived with Josh?” Andrew said.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “If you stay here, you won’t have to wonder where your next meal is coming from or your next paycheck. You’d be free from uncertainty. You’d have the freedom to belong to the community and the freedom to be with your family—to live among people who care about you, though they haven’t always shown it. If you leave, you’ll be among strangers. Of course you’ll have the freedom to work, but you won’t have the freedom to work anywhere you want. You’d have to earn enough money to get an education first.” He covered ElJay’s hand with the blanket. “You’ll be forced to put the baby in daycare or leave her with Josh’s stepmother so you can work to support yourself. Will you feel forced to move back with Josh so you can afford to eat? You’ll be making your own choices, but those choices will be limited. How good is freedom if you can’t be with your baby?”

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and stood up. “You’re making quite a bit of sense.”

  His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Ach, vell, I’ve been spending a lot of time with you. Against my will, you’ve taught me some sense.” Andrew stood and laid ElJay in the little bassinet that served as her bed. He was so tender with the buplie, it almost broke Mary’s heart. Andrew would make a wunderbarr fater.

  After seeing ElJay settled, Andrew came to Mary and wrapped his long fingers around Mary’s upper arms. He gave her the saddest smile she’d ever seen. “I’m going to leave before I snap like a twig, but I want you to be sure you know what your choices are. I love you, but I would never use that love to force you to do anything.”

  “I know.” If she made the wrong choice, she’d have no one to blame but herself. It had always been that way.

  He traced his finger down her cheek. “You feel as soft as the baby.”

  “Denki.” Warmth traveled up her neck, and she clasped her hands together so he wouldn’t notice the shaking.

  “I want you to choose me so bad it makes my teeth ache, but this is your choice. Make it for you, not for me.”

  She thought of Josh, threatening to take ElJay away if Mary didn’t go back to him. How different he was from Andrew. Mary didn’t deserve someone so deeply gute. How could she bear to break his heart? “Denki for being so calm,” she said.

  He scrunched his lips together. “My insides are roiling like a washing machine in a tornado.” He stared at her lips for what seemed like an eternity. She wanted him to kiss her so badly she thought she might faint. He took a deep breath and tore his gaze from her face. She could almost taste her disappointment. It was better this way. A kiss from Andrew would only muddle her thinking.

  “I hate to leave you, but Benji can only keep Bitsy occupied for so long and I’d rather not die by gunshot.”

  Mary forced a laugh from between her trembling lips. “I don’t think Bitsy would shoot you.”

  “She marched into the waiting room at the hospital and told me if I wasn’t out of there in thirty seconds, she’d come after me with her shotgun.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  Andrew grinned. “I love her for her devotion to you. I might have shot me too after what I said to you.”

  “You know I forgive you,” she said.

  “I know. Denki.” He glanced out the front window. “But Bitsy hasn’t. It’s better not to be here when she comes back.” He paused and pressed his lips together. “I love you, Mary. Never doubt that. But I don’t want to pressure you or make you feel worse.” Pain traveled across his face. “Plain and simple, I won’t set foot on Honeybee Farm until you ask for me.”

  Mary almost stopped him right there. She loved him. Wasn’t that enough? Maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t. She’d only just found his love again. She had to be sure. With a growing ache in her chest, she nodded her agreement and let Andrew walk out the door.

  It was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Alfie Petersheim, don’t make me come over there. Shabby work is the sign of a shabby mind.” Mamm always said that, but even Andrew wasn’t quite sure what she meant. What exactly was a shabby mind?

  Mamm had Alfie and Benji scraping the gunk off the bottom of the chair legs in the kitchen—the gunk that collected when the chairs were pulled in and out from the table. It was something that happened every six months. The gunk got scraped whether it needed scraping or not.

  “Don’t rush it, Alfie,” Mamm said, wiping out the oven she’d just scrubbed to shining. “You know I’m going to inspect your work.”

  “Aw, Mamm,” Alfie groaned. “Why do we have to do this? Nobody ever looks at the chair feet.”

  “It doesn’t matter who looks. I can’t sleep at night knowing they’re dirty, just the way Gotte knows all the sins in your heart even if no one else can see them.”

  Dat was outside doing chores, but Mamm had drafted the rest of the boys for their biannual kitchen cleaning duty. Abraham was wiping down walls, Austin knelt on the floor scouring the linoleum with a scrub brush, and Andrew had just started oiling the cabinets. The twins did the same job every six months but were bound to graduate to the gunk under the fridge in a year or two.

  It had been three days since Andrew had seen Mary, and every day he didn’t hear from her felt like a whole year. It had been the right thing to do, telling her he’d wait for her to contact him, but the waiting was torture. He loved her. If he could see her smile every day for the rest of his life, he’d never want for anything else. The thought of her leaving left him breathless.

  He hadn’t been able to eat much of anything for days, because every time he thought of losing Mary, a wave of nausea knocked him over. At night, the loneliness overwhelmed him, making it impossible to sleep, and his legs had started twitching involuntarily when he was lying in his bed. It was a sure sign he was falling apart. Lord willing, Mamm wouldn’t notice anything wrong with him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d brought all this suffering on himself, and he was ashamed to own up to it. No need for the family to know how foolish he’d been.

  Well, except for Dawdi. Dawdi knew everything. Andrew poured out his heart to Dawdi every day while he helped Dawdi with his exercises.

  Andrew dabbed the polishing oil on his rag and wiped the cupboard door with much more vigor than he felt. Mamm deserved a clean kitchen, and she didn’t need to know how badly Andrew was hurting.

  Shabby cleaning was the sign of a shabby life.

  Earlier, he had helped Dawdi with his exercises, and then Mammi had helped Dawdi down for his morning nap. Now Mammi strolled into the kitchen from the bedroom, propped her hands on her hips, watched everyone clean. “Rebecca, why aren’t you using the special rags I bought last week? They’re microfiber. They’ll do a much better job on that oven.”

  “Truer words were never spoken,” Mamm said, not even looking up from her oven cleaning or setting aside the ordinary rag she was using.

  Mammi searched through Mamm’s kitchen drawers. “Where did you put those rags, Rebecca?”

  “They’re on the bookshelf in the cellar,” Benji volunteered. Andrew didn’t miss the look Mamm gave him.

  Mammi didn’t seem to care how those special rags had ended up in the cellar or who had put them there. “Be a good boy, and go get them. I can’t do stairs anymore.”

  Benji glanced at Mamm—who didn’t glance back—and ran down the stairs. Alfie set down the butter knife he used to scrape gunk and started to follow Benji. If Benji got ou
t of three minutes of work, Alfie was determined to get out of the same three minutes. “You keep scraping, young man,” Mamm said.

  Alfie nearly ran down the stairs anyway, but he couldn’t very well pretend he hadn’t heard Mamm without getting in big trouble. He stopped short at the top of the stairs. “I need to help Benji.”

  Mammi sniffed the air. “I don’t think you’ve been using the special rose spray.” She sniffed again. “In fact, I’m sure you haven’t. You stink to high heaven.” She took a couple of steps closer to Alfie and regarded him with her bifocals. Her eyes got wider than the special platters she’d bought for Mamm to use at Thanksgiving. “Look at that shirt! Rebecca, have you seen Alfie’s shirt? He looks like he’s been raised by wolves.”

  Mamm narrowed her eyes in Alfie’s direction. “Truer words were never spoken.”

  “Haven’t you been using that bluing I special ordered from the dry cleaners?”

  “It’s my favorite shirt,” Alfie said, as if that made everything all right.

  He took one step down the stairs, but Mammi was quick for an old woman. She laid a hand on Alfie’s shoulder, pulled him back into the kitchen, and turned him to face her. “He’s a mess, Rebecca.”

  Mamm stuck her head all the way into the oven. “Truer words were never spoken.”

  Mammi tugged Alfie to the kitchen sink. “Hand me the rose water spray, Alfie. I can’t bend over like I used to.” Alfie grimaced, reached into the cupboard under the sink, and retrieved the bottle of special rose water. Mammi clucked her tongue. “It’s almost full. I told you boys you need to use it twice a day.”

  Austin and Abraham sort of turned their backs on Mammi and got very busy cleaning the kitchen. Andrew knew for a fact that nobody used that rose water except for him, and he sprayed it on himself because Mary said she liked it. But he didn’t tell Mammi. Abraham and Austin would glare at him for trying to be the favorite grandson.

  Mammi sighed. “Hold still, Alfie dear.” She started at the top, spraying Alfie’s hair until rose water dripped from his locks onto Mamm’s clean floor. Mammi spritzed the back of Alfie’s neck then made him turn a full circle while she soaked his shirt. The soaking succeeded in making Alfie’s shirt smell worse, like a wet dog rolled in manure.