Aaron wanted to argue with her, to tell her he would never love anyone but Mary, but he’d be fooling himself if he didn’t admit that something had stirred within him when he’d kissed Suvie. Ach. Something had stirred long before the kiss or he wouldn’t have been tempted. He had wanted to ignore his conscience because it was easier to pretend that he saw Suvie only as a friend instead of feeling guilty about his growing feelings for her.
Suvie was eager and fun and wonderful bossy. Her smile could have charmed the scales off a snake, and he’d brave a dozen rainstorms just to hear that laugh. She wasn’t reserved or particular like Mary, and she couldn’t cook or sew, but he didn’t mind that Suvie was different. Suvie was herself, and he liked that she didn’t tiptoe around him or try to be someone she wasn’t.
He liked Suvie. A lot.
And every thought in Suvie’s direction was a step away from Mary.
How had he let it go this far?
He hung his head and buried his face in his hands. “Ach, how could I have been so blind?”
“I don’t think I could bear it if you forgot Mary too.”
Aaron squeezed the bridge of his nose to keep the tears from flowing, but it did no good. “Suvie came to plant petunias, and I had no thought that anything would come of it.” A sob escaped his lips. “I came very close to forgetting how much I love Mary.”
Lydia sat next to Aaron and tapped her cane on the floor. “Don’t ever forget. She’s not really dead as long as the two of us refuse to let her go.”
Aaron blew a deep breath out of his lungs. “I’ll never let go. I promised Mary a long time ago.”
“She loved you very much.”
“And I love her.” Aaron wiped his eyes with one of his three handkerchiefs and tried to smile at his mother-in-law. “You raised a gute daughter.”
“She was my joy. There will never be anyone like her ever again.” A tear trickled down Lydia’s face. “Let’s put a stone on Mary’s pile together today. It would mean so much to her.”
Aaron nodded. Three days after Mary’s funeral, he’d found a smooth, round rock the size of his fist sitting in the middle of his lawn, and the idea had come to him to build a sort of monument to his late wife—a monument to mark the number of days he spent without her and the weight of his grief at her passing.
Mary would stay forever in his heart, no matter how many Suvies tried to replace her.
* * *
Suvie couldn’t concentrate on anything with so many questions running about in her head. Did every first kiss feel so good?
Did every girl squeal with delight as soon as the boy took her home from her first kiss? Or hug herself and do a little dance around her kitchen? Did every girl feel like flying and singing and laughing until her sides hurt? Suvie hadn’t been able to sleep a wink last night, but she didn’t even feel a bit tired this morning.
“What excuse are we going to give Aaron for coming today?” Anna said as Felty pulled his buggy in front of Aaron’s house. “We can only help Suvie get settled in so many times before Aaron gets suspicious.”
Suvie was so giddy, the laughter flowed from her mouth with the least excuse. “You made some of your famous ginger snaps. Aaron can’t get suspicious about those.”
Well, he could. If he weren’t cautious, he’d break a tooth biting into one.
Anna’s eyes twinkled merrily. “That’s true. He loves my ginger snaps, but it wonders me why you wanted us to come with you today. Things with Aaron seem to be going so well.”
Suvie didn’t want to worry Aaron’s grandparents by telling them about the doubt that had been dogging her all morning. Aaron had kissed her last night. He was bound to be having second thoughts this morning. After all, Suvie was a twenty-eight-year-old, bossy spinster who wasn’t the cream of the crop like Mary had been. Boys weren’t prone to swoon when she was around, and Aaron wasn’t prone to swoon at all. Anna and Felty were sort of protection—and maybe comfort—in case Aaron got smart and decided he wasn’t really interested in plain Suvie Newswenger.
Suvie knocked on Aaron’s door with a little less forceful enthusiasm than she usually had. She just couldn’t be sure that Aaron had enjoyed the kiss as much as she had. Maybe he’d lost his balance and his lips had accidentally fallen onto hers. Maybe he hadn’t meant to kiss her at all.
She hadn’t expected him to answer. Sighing, she gave Anna and Felty a bright smile so neither of them would have anything to worry about. “I’ll go around to the back and see if he’s home.” He should be home. They had agreed to go searching for petunias one more time this morning. Of course, that was before he’d kissed her . . . or accidentally fallen onto her lips with his face.
Anna looked up at the sky as little drops of water appeared on Aaron’s sidewalk. “Oh, dear. It’s starting to rain. We’ll wait on the porch where it’s dry.”
Felty lifted the tinfoil that covered Aaron’s plate of ginger snaps. “Do you think Aaron will mind if I have one of his cookies?”
“I can’t see that he should, Felty dear. There will still be plenty for him.”
Suvie could hear Felty’s teeth scrape against a ginger snap even as she strolled around the corner of the house. A drop of water landed on her cheek and another kissed her lips. Oy, anyhow. She was going to think about nothing but kissing for days.
At first she didn’t see him. He stood as still as a post with his back to her, staring at the strange heap of rocks that sat in the middle of his lawn. The rain started to fall harder as Suvie trekked across the lawn toward him. “Don’t you ever answer your door? Your grandparents are waiting on the porch.” When he didn’t answer, she said, “Those rocks would make an adorable little wall around your property. You wouldn’t even need cement, and you could plant petunias all around the base.”
He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t turn around and flash one of his hesitant smiles at her. He often smiled as if he were unsure whether he should be happy or not. It was a very endearing expression. But today, he was having none of it. He didn’t even try to shield himself from the increasingly heavy rainfall. Her heart sank. For sure and certain, he regretted that kiss. She chewed on her fingernail and steeled herself for what she feared was coming.
“My garden doesn’t need petunias,” he said. “I don’t want to waste any more time looking for them. You can go home and quit worrying about it.”
Suvie swallowed the lump in her throat. She was just deerich, foolish, enough to be persistent. “But you’ve got to have petunias. What would Mary say about your front yard? She loved flowers.”
Aaron spun around as if preparing to defend himself from an attack. “Don’t talk about Mary like you knew her.”
Suvie pretended his sudden resentment hadn’t smacked her upside the head. “I did know her. I was the teacher’s helper when she was in school. We met often at quilt frolics and canning parties. Mary and her mamm brought me chicken soup once when I was sick. She was a wunderbarr cook and my friend.”
“Then why aren’t you sad when you talk about her?”
Suvie tilted her head to one side and furrowed her brow. “Why should I let her memory afflict me? I’m happy I knew her.”
Frowning with his whole face, Aaron picked up a small rock from his pile. “You don’t seem sorry she’s gone.”
Suvie blew air from between her lips in exasperation. “Of course I’m sorry she’s gone, but what good does it do to wallow in grief?”
Aaron widened his eyes and tossed the rock back onto the pile. “What good does it do? It keeps Mary fresh in my mind. It is a sign that I haven’t forgotten her. If you still remembered her like I do, you wouldn’t find it so easy to smile. You’ve forgotten. Everyone has forgotten.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I refuse to forget.”
“I don’t want you to forget, Aaron. I want you to have happy memories of Mary and let yourself be happy again.”
“I’ll never be happy again. And that’s how it should be. For Mary’s sake, I’ll not be lo
oking for petunias today. Or ever. And I’ll not be spending any more pleasant days with you, Suvie Newswenger. Your s’mores and peanut butter chocolate drops and petunias almost made me forget, and I can’t let myself forget.”
Suvie didn’t know how to argue with something that made no sense to her. She didn’t want to argue at all, especially with the gaping hole in her chest where her heart used to be. “I . . . I see,” she stammered, trying not to let her voice betray her. If she didn’t get away right now, she’d burst into tears, and she’d rather not give Aaron one more bad memory to live with. “Okay then. Maybe we will see you at the feed store sometime. Be sure to get plenty to eat so you don’t waste away.”
Get plenty to eat?
Every word that came out of her mouth sounded bossy. No wonder Aaron wanted nothing to do with her.
She turned on her heels and made a beeline around the side of the house. Anna and Felty would know something was wrong when she asked them to drive her home.
She stopped when she was out of Aaron’s sight, balled her hands into fists, and blinked back her tears. It had been silly and reckless of her to think that she could ever measure up to Mary Schrock. Mary had been pretty and petite, quiet and appealing. Suvie laughed too loud and bossed people around like a fussy Amish fraa.
Still, Aaron had given her some hope, and hope was a wonderful powerful emotion. She’d let it run away with her heart.
A drop of rain trickled down her back. She needed to get Anna and Felty out of the coming storm. Old people always took sick when they got wet.
Aaron’s grandparents were eating ginger snaps under the eaves that sheltered Aaron’s porch. The plate was less than half full. Had she been gone that long? She bent her head against the rain and marched to the porch.
“Suvie,” Anna said, as if she were surprised and delighted to see her at Aaron’s house. “It’s so pleasant here on Aaron’s porch, even if he has a dead rosebush in his yard. But I’m afraid we ate more cookies than we intended.”
Suvie giggled in spite of herself, hoping they wouldn’t notice the tears mingling with the rainwater on her face. She had a feeling Aaron wouldn’t mind if they ate all of his cookies. At least they brought pleasure to someone.
“Where’s Aaron?” Felty said, studying her face with a perceptive gleam in his eye, like he could tell the difference between tears and rain. “Is he out nursing his rock pile?”
Suvie didn’t know what to say. She was probably their first matchmaking failure, and they’d feel bad about it, even if it wasn’t their fault. They’d been given so little to work with. “He, uh, he doesn’t want to look for petunias.”
Anna frowned and got the same gleam in her eye that Felty had. “What has he done now?”
Suvie couldn’t keep the hitch from her voice, no matter how hard she tried. “Nothing.” Except leave her standing in the rain with nothing to show for it but a thoroughly broken heart and an unfinished box of graham crackers.
Anna clucked her tongue. “Did he try to share his bran flakes with you? That’s enough to scare any girl off. What good are bran flakes except to keep him regular?”
“Maybe he likes that they keep him regular,” Felty said. “No girl wants a boy who isn’t regular.”
Anna huffed out an impatient breath. “What’s romantic about being regular?”
Felty took off his hat and scratched his head. “I don’t know. I prefer prunes.”
The wrinkles puckered around Anna’s mouth. “That boy is determined to scare girls off with his breakfast cereal.”
Suvie gave Anna a sad smile. “I didn’t see any bran flakes this morning.”
Felty stroked his beard. “But he doesn’t want petunias.”
Suvie lowered her eyes. “No petunias.”
Anna clucked her tongue again. “That poor boy is so concerned about being regular that he can’t see how much he needs petunias.”
Suvie shook her head, unable to give voice to her shattered hopes.
“Oh, my dear girl.” Anna pulled a bright pink dishrag from her pocket and handed it to Suvie. Then, almost defiantly, she took one of Aaron’s cookies off the plate and gave it to Suvie as well.
Suvie tried to take a bite to make Anna happy. She managed to etch a tooth mark into the cookie.
Anna tightened the tinfoil around the plate and what was left of Aaron’s cookies and set the plate on the porch. “Even though I’m quite put out with my great-grandson right now, I still love him and he still deserves a plate of goodies. It’s his own fault if they’re halfway gone.” Felty took Anna’s hand, and they tromped down the porch steps together, heedless of the rain that fell on them as soon as they left the shelter of the porch. “I’m going to have a talk with that boy and set him straight,” Anna said.
Suvie sighed. “Please don’t. Aaron can live his life any way he sees fit. He never asked me to plant petunias.”
“Well, he’s not going to catch a wife with bran flakes. Somebody needs to tell him that being regular is not the least bit romantic.” Anna let Felty help her into the buggy. “Ach, Felty. Sometimes I think nobody would get married without our help. Die youngie are so thick sometimes.”
Chapter 6
Aaron stood and brushed the dirt off his hands. He came here often enough that the grass around Mary’s headstone never got very high. He’d chosen a two-foot-tall vertical headstone so Mary’s grave would be visible from the dirt road that ran alongside the secluded cemetery. Her name, along with the dates she had lived, was etched into the homemade concrete stone. Her life had been so short. Sometimes, Gotte’s will was painfully hard to accept.
Aaron didn’t even look up when he heard a buggy coming up the road, its wheels crunching over the dirt. The people who came to visit the dead wanted to be alone with their grief. Aaron would give whoever it was what privacy he could.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
Aaron turned around. Dawdi climbed down from his buggy like a much younger man and tromped toward Aaron with a grocery bag in his hand and a deep furrow between his brows.
Aaron pressed his lips into a hard line. He didn’t have to guess very hard why Dawdi was here. Aaron had put Suvie off but good this morning. He’d been upset and unsettled by Lydia’s visit, and he hadn’t tempered his tongue. He could be man enough to admit that he hadn’t been very nice to Suvie, and Dawdi didn’t like it when his grandchildren behaved badly. Aaron tried to steel himself for what was to come. Could he could bear another lecture today?
“You don’t have to say a word, Dawdi,” Aaron said, slipping his hands into his pockets and kicking at the grass at his feet. “I’ll apologize to Suvie first thing tomorrow morning.”
The furrow creasing Dawdi’s brow gathered into a pile of wrinkles, and he smiled the grandfatherly smile that always warmed Aaron from the inside. “I’m not here to tell you anything. I came because Anna asked me to bring you some presents.”
Aaron frowned. “To the cemetery?”
Dawdi pulled two bright blue, knitted blobs from the plastic bag. “A potholder and a dishrag,” he said, handing them to Aaron. “Only the most challenging grandchildren get both.”
“I’m one of your most challenging grandchildren?”
The corners of Dawdi’s mouth curled upward. “I think it’s because your mammi doesn’t like bran flakes.”
“Bran flakes?”
Dawdi reached into his bag and retrieved two boxes of breakfast cereal. “Your mammi wants you to try these.”
Aaron stuffed his dishrag and potholder into his pocket and took the boxes. “Cap’n Crunch and Froot Loops?”
“Cap’n Crunch peanut butter. They’re the most romantic cereals she could find on short notice.”
The other thing in Dawdi’s bag was a tub of cheese curds. “Your mammi says these will plug you right up. That’s all I have to say about that.”
Dawdi had tracked him all the way to the cemetery to give him cheese curds and two strange boxes of cereal? He couldn’t quite f
igure out what his grandparents were up to, although this was nothing new.
Dawdi wadded up his plastic bag and slid it into his pocket. “I’m sorry to interrupt your visit with Mary.”
Aaron glanced at the headstone. “I was just leaving.”
“When I was younger, I used to go to my dat’s grave and tell him all my problems. It was gute to talk things out, even though my dat never answered back. What do you say to Mary when you come?”
Aaron shifted his feet and hugged the peanut butter Cap’n Crunch to his chest. “Ach. Lots of things.”
“Do you tell her you love her?”
“Jah. Of course. And that I miss her.”
Dawdi nodded. “I can tell you miss her very much.”
Aaron tensed. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Dawdi.” He thought he might turn and walk away if Dawdi started in on how he should “get over” Mary. He’d heard it from Mamm and Dat and his siblings and cousins and everyone else. He didn’t want to hear it anymore.
“Of course there’s nothing wrong with missing Mary,” Dawdi said. “You’re going to miss her for the rest of your life.”
Ach. Maybe Dawdi wasn’t going to give him a lecture. “My dat says I should get over her.”
Dawdi looked at Aaron, his eyes alight with eighty-seven years of wisdom. “You’ll never get over Mary, but maybe it’s time to find another way to be true to her memory.”
Aaron expelled a deep breath. “That just another way of saying I need to get over her. If I truly loved her, she should always be fresh in my mind, even if she’s not with me anymore.”
“That’s why you have the dead rosebush and the rock pile.”
Aaron nodded, aching for Dawdi to understand. “I put a rock on it for Mary every day. It’s a monument to her. And don’t tell me that it is a graven image. Samuel the prophet built a stone altar in remembrance of Gotte.”
“Aaron, you have built an altar to Mary, but it’s not that pile of stones in your backyard. Your grief is your altar.” Dawdi laid a firm hand on Aaron’s shoulder and gazed at him so intently that Aaron had to look away. “Do you think that Mary would like to be remembered for the misery she brought into your life?”
Amish Brides Page 8
