Lovina sighed. “Everyone is asking me that. No! I don’t remember him. I don’t remember you. I don’t remember this house—” She looked around herself.
“This house is different,” Elizabeth replied. “So you wouldn’t remember it. But Johannes was close to you. Very close.”
“Oh . . .” Lovina sighed.
“You loved him, Lovina.” Elizabeth leaned closer. “You really loved him. And I think he loves you—”
“I don’t remember him!” Lovina rubbed a hand over her face. “This is just a story to me. I believe you that this is my life, but I don’t remember any of it. If I loved him, why wouldn’t any of that remain? If we meant so much to each other, why didn’t I feel anything when I looked at him?”
And she had a point there. She had been a year away from Johannes . . . a year of her own choosing. Maybe there was less left between the two than Elizabeth liked to think.
“I don’t know . . .” she said softly.
“What do you want me to do?” Lovina demanded. “Do you want me to throw myself into his arms to make all of you feel better? I don’t remember him!”
Bethany came down the stairs, Mo in her arms. He’d just woken up from a nap and had needed to be changed and fed.
“Lovina, do you want to hold your nephew?” Bethany asked. “I’m going to do some baking and Mo insists on being held these days or he just howls.”
Lovina smiled and held out her arms for the baby. “Yah,” she said. “I’d love to hold him. Come here, you.”
Mo consented to be shifted into Lovina’s arms, and Elizabeth stood up.
“I have to deliver this dress,” she said. “If Lovina is helping out here, I can just run down to the Miller farm and be back in a few minutes.”
“Yah, good idea,” Bethany agreed, and they exchanged a somber look. It wouldn’t be fair to bring Lovina to Johannes’s home, where his bride-to-be was staying with his family. Elizabeth had already said too much. They’d asked Johannes before he left the day before if he was going through with the wedding, and he’d said he was. When Lovina’s memories came back and Johannes was married to Sovilla, would Lovina resent Elizabeth for not having done more?
Though when Lovina’s memories returned, she’d also know that she’d been gone for a year, and she’d understand why lives had moved on.... But hopefully by that point she’d have rediscovered what made her Amish life special, and she’d be rooted back in the home where she belonged.
That was the prayer at least.
The Miller farm was a twenty-minute walk from Isaiah’s house, but Elizabeth opted to walk instead of hitching up the buggy. It was a chance to be alone for a few minutes, and to talk to Gott.
Her mind was in a knot. Lovina was home, and they’d all agreed to let her slowly adjust, let her memories return, but not everything would be the same as before, would it? Their daet was back, and the community had no respect or warm feelings for him. Johannes was marrying another woman, and Isaiah had gotten married in her absence as well. The only one who hadn’t changed was Elizabeth, and she was doing her best to maintain some calm around here for Lovina’s sake....
Gott, will she hate me for not stopping this wedding? Elizabeth prayed silently. She doesn’t remember how much she loved him . . . but I do! I remember what they were like together. I remember how happy she was planning her wedding.
Until she disappeared and shocked them all, that was. Obviously there had been more going on under the surface that Lovina had never shared.
What do I do, Gott?
There seemed to be silence from Heaven, and as Elizabeth walked on, her heart was heavy. Lovina had left Johannes, and it was her choice. Elizabeth shouldn’t be grieving her sister’s relationship, especially when her sister wasn’t grieving it herself! And Lovina had a point—if Johannes had truly been the man Gott wanted for her, why did she feel nothing when meeting him again? Even without her memory, there should be some attraction at least, shouldn’t there?
But it wasn’t Lovina’s lost love that weighed so heavily on Elizabeth this morning—it was her own. She’d fallen in love with a man who was all wrong for her, and she was attempting to let those feelings go....
Solomon isn’t mine, she prayed. I know that! He’s not meant for me. I’m not for him either. So why can’t I stop loving him? Why can’t I put whatever that was behind me and move forward? I’m trying!
So far she’d avoided seeing Solomon. When she went to check on Bridget, he hadn’t been there, and she’d thought that was a gift from above—a respite from being faced with these overwhelming feelings. But now all she wanted was to see him again, to slide back into his arms and listen to the slow, solid beating of his heart.
“Is that a sin?” she whispered aloud.
Was it terrible that her emotions didn’t care one bit whether or not there was a future for them? She missed him now . . .
When Elizabeth arrived at the Millers’ driveway, she headed down toward the farmhouse. The barn loomed close by, and another barn, farther away, glowed red in the late morning sunlight. The men were nowhere to be seen, and that was just as well. Elizabeth didn’t think she could handle another polite back-and-forth with Johannes right now. She headed up to the side of the house just as little girls’ laugher pealed from indoors.
“That’s silly,” Sovilla’s voice said. “Take that off your head, Becca.”
Elizabeth knocked, and it was Sovilla who pulled open the door.
“I came with your dress,” Elizabeth said, and she held out the bag.
“That’s very kind. Come in,” Sovilla said.
Elizabeth stepped inside. The kitchen was spotless, some fresh bread on the counter. There was a hamper of dry, folded laundry sitting on the tabletop, and Elizabeth had to appreciate what Sovilla had done to this kitchen at least in the short time she was here. The Miller house hadn’t been this welcoming since before Johannes’s mother passed away.
Becca stood with a funnel balanced on the top of her head, and Iris, not to be outdone by her sister, had a pot on hers that covered her face and made her little laugh echo from the depths of it.
“Girls, you go on upstairs and play in our bedroom,” Sovilla said, scooping both pot and funnel from her daughters. “Go on, now.”
The girls did as they were told, Becca leading her little sister. When their footsteps could be heard overhead, Sovilla turned to Elizabeth.
“I’m not marrying him,” Sovilla said softly.
“What?” Elizabeth put the bag on the table next to the hamper and her heart stuttered. “Did he call it off?”
“No, I did.” Sovilla gestured for Elizabeth to sit.
“I’m fine,” Elizabeth said. “You called it off? Why?”
“Because she’s back.” Sovilla caught Elizabeth’s gaze and held it. “Your sister is back, and even if she never remembers him, and even if she doesn’t want to be with Johannes, he loves her. Deeply. He’s not over her. And while I was willing to be the wife of a man who was grieving his own losses, I’m not willing to be the wife of a man in love with a woman in the community.”
“Did you tell him?” Elizabeth breathed.
“Yah. He’ll tell the bishop and everyone else . . . I’ll pack and go home. Or something.... Maybe I can find a job here in the community and somewhere to stay in the meantime. I have to figure it out still.”
“Was he upset when you told him?” Elizabeth asked.
Sovilla shook her head. “Johannes was relieved. So am I. I’ll find another way to keep myself, but I realized something I should have remembered earlier.”
“Which is?” Elizabeth asked.
“Loving a man deeply—adoring him, sinking into his arms and feeling like the world disappears around you—that’s worth waiting for. It’s worth grieving a little while longer, too.”
“Rueben was like that?” Elizabeth asked softly.
“Yah . . .” A wistful smile came to Sovilla’s lips. “He was a good man, but it was more than that. H
e only had eyes for me. He’d hurry home because he missed me, and he’d wink at me during Sunday service.” She brushed a tear from her cheek. “I felt like I was whole when I was in his arms. I don’t know how to explain it. I may never feel that way again, but I did feel it with him. . . .”
Elizabeth did know that feeling, and she’d been running from it. Even now, she longed to feel Solomon’s fingers closing around hers, to lean her cheek against his strong shoulder, to smell the musky scent of him . . .
“If Lovina hadn’t come back, would it have been enough?” Elizabeth asked earnestly.
Sovilla looked a little surprised at the intensity coming from Elizabeth, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. She needed to know this.
“If my sister stayed away, and you married Johannes, and she never came back,” Elizabeth pressed. “Would you have been able to live happily with him?”
Sovilla was silent for a moment. “I saw his face when he heard the news that your sister had returned.... I might have married him, but I do think I would have lived to regret it. When you’ve loved someone as passionately as Johannes loves your sister, it doesn’t just go away. Another woman can’t just claim his heart. Like it or not, Lovina has his. And she very likely always will.”
Sovilla was being offered a man with a good reputation, with a solid character and a tender heart. And she was turning him down because she knew what happened when someone loved that deeply. And now Elizabeth would never be blind to what a love like that felt like ever again either.
“Johannes is a good man, though,” Elizabeth said. “Is that enough? If my sister had never come back, would a good man without the distraction of the woman he’d once loved—he would make a good husband, wouldn’t he?”
Sovilla sighed. “I wanted to believe so. It would have been good for me if that were so—I’d have a man to provide. But I’m not so sure. They say marriage is long, and that can be both a blessing and a curse. A good reputation is a start, but long, cold nights aren’t filled with a good reputation, if you understand me.”
Elizabeth blushed at that. Could she really go marry a man who was very kind, very good and respectable, knowing that neither of them loved each other half enough? Could she do it for a chance at marriage and kinner? Long, cold nights weren’t filled by the good words spoken around the community. And neither was her heart, it turned out.
“Elizabeth?” Sovilla said, and Elizabeth pulled herself out of her thoughts.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was just thinking . . .”
“Who is he?” Sovilla asked softly.
Elizabeth felt warmth in her cheeks and she looked down. Was she that obvious?
“He’s the one who makes me feel whole when I lean my head against his shoulder,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “And he’s all wrong for me, in every logical way.”
“What will you do?” Sovilla asked.
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth replied. “But I have a feeling I’m going to be a whole lot like Johannes—not much use to anyone else while my heart is tied up this way.”
“Is he Amish?” Sovilla asked.
“Yah.” Because Solomon was Amish, even if he was pushed out.
“Well,” Sovilla said with a faint shrug, “you might not be much use to anyone else, but possibly just everything for one man.”
Elizabeth smiled wistfully. “You’re a very wise person, Sovilla.”
“It comes with the heartbreak,” Sovilla said. “I hope you avoid it.”
If only Elizabeth had known what she was toying with when she and Solomon started pulling together, but then, it wouldn’t have stopped her. There was something about Solomon Lantz that sank deep into her heart, and she wasn’t going to be able to marry another man quite so easily as she thought.
She loved Solomon . . . but that didn’t mean he’d stay. And love him as she did, Elizabeth wouldn’t jump the fence for any man, even if she mourned him for the rest of her life.
* * *
Solomon stood in the center of Bishop David Lapp’s barn. It was a large one, newly built in the spring, when his small barn was badly damaged in a storm. The community had pulled together, and this was the result. The bishop leaned against his shovel and eyed Solomon thoughtfully.
“It’s an interesting idea,” the bishop said quietly. “I can see the wisdom in it.”
“People don’t trust a man who’s trying to prove he’s not that bad,” Solomon said. “But they can learn to trust a man who knows exactly where he went wrong and he’s doing his best to teach the young people to avoid his mistakes.”
“And you think you can do that,” Bishop Lapp said quietly.
“I want to tell my story,” Solomon said. “Maybe in an evening service after church. Let the adults be there to supervise and make sure I’m not leading anyone astray. But I want to tell how easy it is to slide downward, and exactly how horrible prison was. I want the young people to know that when their parents give them limits, it’s for their protection.”
The older man nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a good idea, Solomon.”
“And I want to be baptized.” The words nearly caught in his throat. Baptism was about more than faith; it was about community. It was about joining his neighbors as they all tried to live for Gott together.
A smile tickled the bishop’s lips. “You’re ready for that commitment?”
“Yah, I am,” Solomon replied. “I know the life I want to live with Gott and my community, and I’m ready to join the church.”
“There will be baptismal classes,” the bishop said. “And it will take time to regain trust in the community. I won’t lie.”
Solomon nodded. “I understand.”
The bishop pursed his lips. “You’ve been fighting, though.”
“Once,” Solomon replied. “The second time I received a beating, but I didn’t fight.”
“Why not?”
“Because I wanted to protect a woman,” he replied. “And there was this part of me, deep inside, that kept thinking that the Amish way might work. . . .”
“Did it?” the bishop asked.
“I was beaten rather badly,” Solomon said wryly. “So it would look like it didn’t. But considering that one of us was going to end up battered, I suppose it was just as well that it was me. I won’t end up back in prison, and my principles could remain intact.”
“And if the Englishers come back?” the bishop asked.
“You provided a cell phone.” Solomon smiled faintly. “We’ll use that again.”
The bishop nodded slowly. “You need a job. An Amish one.”
“That might be harder to come by,” Solomon admitted.
“Old Aaron Stoltzfuz who was picking up the milk and carrying it to the cheese factory is retiring,” the bishop said quietly. “It’s an honorable job. It’s solitary, mostly, and you’ve got to be on time. Milk can’t just sit out getting warm in the sun. We all pay a bit for the pickup service, and the cheese factory pays some, too, for a carting fee.”
Solomon’s heart sped up. “Yah? What about Aaron’s son? He won’t take over?”
“He’s busy with the farm. That was just an extra job Aaron took on,” the bishop replied. “If I let the others know that I’ve hired you to pick up my milk, they’ll likely do the same.”
“And you’d do that?” Solomon asked.
“So long as you keep to the narrow path and don’t disappoint me,” the bishop replied. “Yah, I would do that.”
“Thank you!” Solomon grinned, then nodded.
“And you’ll be telling the young people about your mistakes,” the bishop said. “Honestly and fully. And you’ll not glamorize it or make it sound exciting, or appealing—”
“There’s nothing appealing about prison,” Solomon replied, his voice low. “I have nightmares, Bishop. If I can stop them from messing up like I did, I’ll feel like I’m giving something back.”
The bishop nodded slowly.
“I’m going to be bringing my
family’s produce to market,” Solomon added. “And my mamm wants me to buy a couple of weaned calves to raise, too. A bit here and a bit there, and I can cobble together an income.”
The bishop smiled. “A bit here and a bit there, and you might cobble together a reputation, too. Now . . . if you wanted to earn a few hours’ wages, I could use some help around here today.”
“Yah.” Solomon looked down at his hands. “Yah. Let me just unhitch my horses and then I’ll be back.”
As Solomon headed back toward the barn door, he felt a wave of gratitude. He’d give back . . . what little he had; he’d find a way to make himself useful.
And when he’d finished work today, with a little money in his pocket and a plan already knitting itself together in the back of his mind, he was going to stop by Isaiah’s house and ask to talk to Elizabeth.
She might still leave Bountiful and find a man more worthy than he was, but before she left, he had to tell her his new plans. He wouldn’t be a deeply respected man in these parts, and it would be a long while before he built himself up, but he could offer a few things—this strong, bruised body in her protection, his loyalty for life, and a promise that he’d work every day making sure she was happier than the last.
It might not be enough—he had to be realistic and accept that—but if she’d take it, all he had, heart and soul, would be hers.
Chapter Twenty-One
The sun had set, slipping behind the hills, and the moon climbed slowly up into the dusky sky. A few stars appeared, and Elizabeth stood by the window, looking out.
Lovina had gone to bed early. She was tired—her body was still healing from that accident, and she wasn’t used to the workload of an Amish day anymore, it seemed. She did her best to keep up, but when she started yawning after dinner, Elizabeth and Bethany had both told her that they’d finish the cleaning and she could go on up to bed. The baby was already in his crib for the night, too.
Johannes had arrived just a few minutes ago, and Johannes and Isaiah sat at the table, mugs of coffee in front of them, and when Elizabeth and Bethany had wiped down the last counter, they went to the table to join the men. Everyone knew that the wedding was off now, and Johannes seemed to be fine with that arrangement.
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