by Amy Lillard
Maybe...
* * *
“I’m worried about you, Sarah.”
She started and turned around as her mother approached. “There’s nothing to worry about,” she lied. Or maybe it wasn’t so much of a lie. There was really nothing to worry about. It was over between her and Jonah, if there was anything between them to begin with. Only in her dreams.
“You’re living here and your husband is living miles away. I’d say that’s something to worry about.” Her blue eyes filled with concern.
Sarah shook her head in disbelief. “I’m here because you encouraged me to come home.”
“Jah, I know. But . . .”
“But you didn’t think I’d stay this long.”
“Jah. Something like that.”
Sarah hated worrying her mother, but it couldn’t be helped. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”
“I beg to differ,” her mother said.
Sarah shook her head and made her way to the kitchen table. Annie was out gathering eggs and their dat was at work. Sarah had the feeling this conversation wasn’t going to be a quick one. She might as well be comfortable while her mother had her say. She slid into one of the chairs and waited for Mamm to continue.
Her mamm took the chair opposite her and rested her forearms on the tabletop. “No one said marriage was going to be easy. We all know that. But there are many things couples can do to work through their problems.”
Sarah waited.
“I talked to the bishop about you and Jonah going through marriage counseling.”
Sarah was on her feet in an instant. “You what?”
“Sit down, daughter.”
She returned to her seat, wondering who her mild-mannered mother had been talking to. Who had put these ideas in her head? “Why would you do such a thing?”
“I hate seeing you mope around here, pining for your husband and the family that you thought you were going to have.”
“It’s too late for that.” The words might have come from her mouth, but they stabbed through her like a sword.
“It’s only too late when God calls you home. Surely you know that.”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, not knowing how to respond. There was a time when she had believed in love, believed that God would see them all through, but now . . . now, her faith was thin and her ideas of love shattered.
She had loved Jonah with all her heart. Well, she had thought so, then she married him and learned what love really was. Then it slipped through her grasp like smoke. And she knew. She would never get that back.
“Well, I do.” Her mother sat back with a knowing smile.
Sarah could see the confidence in the curve of her lips. She thought she had convinced Sarah to try counseling, but Sarah knew what was in her own heart. And she knew how her husband felt about her. “I’m not the only one in this marriage.” It was the best way she knew to tell her mother that hope was slim.
Hope is nonexistent.
“I’m sure if I talk to the bishop about this, he’ll make sure that Jonah shows up for the sessions.”
“No!” Sarah slapped a hand over her mouth to keep any more words from falling out. “I mean, I don’t think that’s a gut idea.”
Her mother frowned. “Why not? It is what we do.”
Sarah knew that. She didn’t need her mother telling her as much. But how could she explain her own shortcomings? “It’s complicated,” she muttered.
“Not so complicated that God can’t sort it out.” Her mother gave her a kindly smile.
Sarah returned it, but in her heart she knew: God wanted no part of the mess she had found herself in.
* * *
“Are you asleep?”
For a moment Sarah thought about pretending that she was, but her conscience kicked in. “No.” She had been ignoring her sister too much.
“Are you going to do it?”
“Do what?”
“Go to counseling?”
“How do you know about that?”
Sarah heard the rustle of covers and knew that Annie had shrugged. “I overheard you and Mamm talking today.”
“I thought you were out gathering eggs.”
“I was, and then I wasn’t.”
It was a typical Annie answer.
“Well?” she asked again.
“Well what?”
“Are you and Jonah going to marriage counseling?”
“No.”
There was another rustle as Annie turned onto her side. “Why not?”
Sarah wanted to jump from the bed and shout that it was no one’s business but hers. But that wasn’t exactly the way a faithful Amish woman conducted herself. She had finally admitted it to herself—her faith had slipped, practically fallen away entirely. These days she was going through the motions. But not just at church. Every step she took was more effort than the last.
Lord, when does the pain end?
But she didn’t expect an answer.
“Jonah doesn’t love me,” she finally said. How could she say the words out loud, that she was terrified that he wouldn’t want her if she couldn’t have a baby? What would she do? The one thing she had wanted most in her life wasn’t to be hers.
There were plenty of women who suffered the same fate. So many that they had started their own group. She didn’t want to be one of them. She knew that the other women talked about them, prayed for them, pitied them.
But she wouldn’t be one of them if her marriage was at an end. And she would never know what a complete failure she was as a woman and a wife.
No, it was much better this way.
“Sarah?”
She snapped back to the matter at hand, her sister across the room, well-meaning but breaking her already shattered heart into even more tiny little pieces.
“I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
Sarah shook her head even though she knew her sister could barely see her in the darkness of their room. “You must need to go have your vision checked, sister.”
“I may not have a suitor of my own, but I have seen love on many of the faces in our church. I have seen how Andrew looks at Caroline, how Elam looks at Emily, and how Titus looks at Abbie.”
“How’s that?” Sarah asked.
“The same way Jonah looks at you.”
Chapter Twenty
It was a far-fetched plan if there ever was one.
But it was the only one Gertie had. It was what God had given her, and she was grateful.
She pulled her tractor into the driveway at the Yoders’ house.
The plan had come to her late last night as she had stared at the ceiling, sleep eluding her. She was worried about Jonah. Very worried. But if she couldn’t talk sense into him, maybe she could appeal to Sarah.
So it was a long shot at best. But what was a mother to do?
It was true that she had never truly approved of Jonah and Sarah’s union, but the time for protest was over. The deed was done, and their futures were tied together for life. And it was no life if the two of them weren’t even living in the same house.
She parked her tractor to one side of the house. She had thought about calling before she came over, but she was afraid that Sarah wouldn’t agree to talk to her and would conveniently disappear. She figured an ambush was in order.
No one came out onto the porch to greet her. The laundry line was heavy with clothes, flapping and snapping in the Oklahoma wind. Hanging clothes didn’t mean anyone was home. But she could hope . . .
Gertie made her way up the porch steps and rapped lightly on the door. She wasn’t on friendly enough terms that she felt comfortable just walking into their house, and once again she wished she had called first.
The door jerked open and Hilde Yoder frowned at her in confusion. “Gertie Miller. What are you doing here?” The words were spoken in surprise and not anger, a fact Gertie was happy about. This whole marriage thing between Jonah and Sarah had not turned out like anyone had planned.
“I came to speak with Sarah.”
Hilde’s frown deepened. “She’s not here.”
Gertie glanced into the house but couldn’t see much as Hilde blocked her view. “Is she really not here, or are you just saying that so I’ll go away?”
Maybe not the best thing to say. Hilde propped her hands on her hips and shot Gertie a stern look. “Are you calling me a liar, Gertie?”
She took a deep breath and did her best to gather her thoughts. “No, Hilde. I would never say such a thing about you. But I really need to talk to Sarah.”
“About what?”
“She needs to go home. Back to Jonah. I came to convince her to do just that.”
Suddenly the starch went out of Hilde’s spine. Gertie hadn’t realized that Hilde had been holding herself so stiffly until she practically wilted before her eyes. “She’s not here, but come on in.”
Gertie considered telling her no, that she would come back later, when Sarah was home, but decided that to turn down Hilde’s offer would be rude.
She stepped into the house and followed Hilde toward what she supposed would be the kitchen. It was.
“I’m glad you came by,” Hilde said over one shoulder as she motioned toward the kitchen table. “Have a seat. Would you like a glass of water? Cup of coffee?”
Gertie nodded dumbly. “Anything’s fine,” she mumbled. “Why are you glad I’m here? I mean . . . that’s nice of you to say but . . .” She was making a mess of this. She and Hilde had never been friends, and their children getting into trouble and marrying surely hadn’t changed that.
Hilde didn’t answer right away. She poured them each a glass of water and brought them to the table. Gertie noticed that Hilde had started water to boil. Truly it was a little cold outside to drink something like cold water. And even though the Millers and the Yoders didn’t live very far apart, Gertie’s tractor didn’t provide her with much protection from the frigid Oklahoma wind.
Gertie took a sip of water and waited for Hilde to continue.
Sarah’s mother slid into the chair opposite her and twirled her glass around as Gertie waited.
“I’m worried about Sarah,” Hilde finally said. She heaved a great sigh after the words were spoken, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
“I’m worried about Jonah.” Gertie did her best to keep the annoyance from her voice. If Sarah would just move back home . . .
“Those kids . . .” Hilde shook her head. “They need to be living under the same roof.”
“I agree.”
Hilde’s gaze jerked to hers. “You do?”
Gertie nodded. “Jah.” She didn’t need to add that the Amish married for life. Oh, she had heard tall tales of Plain folk in other states and settlements who had divorced for one reason or another, but she had considered them just that. Tales.
“I’m so relieved to hear that.”
“I don’t know why. It surely doesn’t change anything.” Gertie hadn’t meant to sound so sharp, but if being worried about a child would help them, then Jonah and Sarah would be living happily in the little converted English house he’d bought at the edge of town.
“What if we can?” Hilde’s eyes twinkled as if she had a secret. But instead of divulging it, she pushed up from the table and moved to the stove to finish the coffee. While they had been talking, the water had started to boil.
Gertie wanted to shout that she didn’t want any coffee, she wanted to hear Hilde’s plan or idea or whatever it was, but she managed to keep her manners like a good Amish woman should.
It seemed like forever before Hilde poured them both a cup of coffee, but the clock above the sink told a different story. Only seven minutes had passed.
“Would you like some cream? Sugar?”
“I would like for you to come back and tell me what’s on your mind.”
If Hilde was offended, she didn’t show it. Instead she brought the two cups of coffee to the table and slid back into her chair. “I think we should get them back together.”
Gertie’s excitement deflated like a leaky balloon. “I thought you had a gut idea.”
Hilde sat back in her chair, her eyes reflecting her internal hurt. “It is a gut idea.”
“But we need a plan. Ideas aren’t going to help us.”
“Of course they will.”
Gertie frowned. “Is there more to this idea of yours?” They needed more, enough more to make it a plan. Some action they could take.
“Last time I was at the doctor’s in Pryor, I saw a show on the television.”
Gertie’s eyes widened. “You were watching television?”
Hilde shook her head even as her cheeks flushed deep pink. “It was right there in front of me. What was I supposed to do?”
Gertie supposed she could have averted her eyes, but if she were being honest with herself, she would have been watching too. She hadn’t had many opportunities to watch English TV, but she had taken every one. It was fascinating watching people move around in a plastic box. Of course, Eli would have a fit if he knew that she walked through the electronics department very slowly, staring at the miraculous boxes, even though she knew it to be a sin. “Go on,” she said. Hilde’s transgressions weren’t the important thing here. This was all about Jonah and Sarah and saving their marriage. Someone had to do something.
“Well,” Hilde continued, “the new year is about here.”
“Jah.” Gertie hated to even make a sound for fear that Hilde would be off on another tangent.
“I’ve heard Sarah talking about Caroline and Andrew Fitch having a party to celebrate. A couples’ party.”
Gertie shook her head. Such a thing to celebrate, turning over a day on the calendar. That was an event for the English, not the God-loving Amish. But these young people today kept getting more and more like the world. Sometimes it scared Gertie. If it kept on like this, in a few years one might have trouble telling the English youth from the Amish. That was something she hoped she never saw. “If it’s a couples’ party, how are Jonah and Sarah going to get an invitation?”
Hilde smiled. “You leave that to me.”
If Gertie remembered correctly, Hilde and Esther Fitch were good friends. Perhaps she was going to use that relationship to make sure that Caroline and Andrew invited the couple.
“Do you really think this is going to work?” Gertie asked.
“It has to.”
Gertie thought for a moment that Hilde was going to follow up with we don’t have any other choices, but she didn’t. “Did you really see this on English television?” Gertie asked.
Hilde nodded. “The Dr. Bill show or something like that. He had all these couples who were having problems.”
“What did they do?”
“It wasn’t them. It was their families. They called it an invention or something like that. They got the couple together and made them sit down and talk it out.”
“Did it work?”
Hilde shrugged. “I don’t know. They called my name and it was my turn to go back for my appointment.”
Gertie considered that for a moment. “What if this doesn’t work?”
“It has to,” Hilde said. “It’s the only idea I have, and I don’t go back to the doctor for another six months.”
* * *
“I thought it was a couples’ party.” Sarah looked from Caroline to Emily, then over to Julie.
“Not a couple-couple party,” Julie said.
“Right.” Emily nodded, sending her prayer kapp strings bobbing around her shoulders.
“But there are a lot of couples coming,” Caroline added.
“Just not only couples.” Julie shrugged one shoulder. “Our buddy bunch group.”
That didn’t make Sarah feel any better. Most all of their buddy bunch had gotten married in the last few years. Most everyone there would be married.
You’re married.
She ignored that little voice. Yes, she was married, but what difference did it
make really? She was still living with her parents. Jonah was still living at their house. Well, she thought that was where he was living. She hadn’t heard anything different. And she surely hadn’t talked to her husband.
“I don’t know.” How uncomfortable would she be hanging out with all her friends watching them celebrate the new year? It wasn’t like Amish couples were openly loving, but she would know. All their friends were in happy marriages. And hers was beyond repair. How had things gotten so twisted around?
One night. One moment of weakness. One hope that things could be different for them. And that one moment had changed everything. And not to the better.
“Sarah, you have to come.” Julie clasped Sarah’s hand and squeezed her fingers.
Sarah frowned. Something was up. She wasn’t sure what, but what difference did it make if she went to the party or not?
“You haven’t been to anything in so long,” Emily said. “We miss you.”
Sarah immediately regretted her suspicions. She hadn’t been to any functions in a long time, preferring to hide out at her parents’ house and pretend that the last year hadn’t really happened. It was cowardly, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it up for much longer, but she wasn’t about to stop now. Not until she had to. “It’s just . . .”
“Hard,” Julie supplied. “we understand.”
Sarah wanted to shake her head at it all. Her friends had all had wonderful relationships. Well, maybe it had been a little rocky at first for Caroline and Andrew, but everything had worked out in the end. And Emily and Elam, it had looked a little touch-and-go for them, but Julie and Danny had a courtship straight out of one of those English romance novels Sarah’s mamm read when she thought no one was around.
Sarah had always thought she would have a relationship like that. But now . . . That was never happening. She was a married woman. Separated from her husband and doomed to live her life with a man who didn’t love her. He would never love her.
Tears filled her eyes. She had thought she was past all this, but apparently she had been wrong. She ducked her head to hide her despair, but she was too late.
“Don’t cry.”
Suddenly she was wrapped in three pairs of loving arms.
“Shhh . . .” Emily soothed. “It’s going to be all right.”
