Rosmanda put her package in the back of the buggy and then pulled herself up to sit next to Levi. He gave the reins a flick and the horses started.
“I could have driven myself,” Rosmanda said.
“Yah, but I’ve got some business with my aunt, anyway,” he replied.
“Oh.” He certainly wasn’t here because he wanted to be. Hadn’t that been her goal before—to lever some distance between the two of them? Whatever it was about Levi, he didn’t leave her thinking straight. And that was dangerous. But this chilly gulf between them was more unsettling than she’d been prepared for.
“I thought we were going to at least pretend to be friends,” Rosmanda said.
“Pretend?” He cast her a quick look.
“Obviously, you’re upset,” she said.
“Yah, I am.” He leaned forward and looked both ways as they got to the road, and then flicked the reins for the horses to carry on onto the road.
“I was young,” she said, her voice shaking. “I was, admittedly, very stupid. I didn’t even know God very well back then. I thought I did, but it was all lip service. But I can assure you that I’ve gotten to know Him very well since. So if you think I’m that same girl now—”
“You think I’m angry because I’m judging you?” he demanded.
She’d seen the way his eyes had changed since he found out her secret. The way he looked at her was different. The way he acted around her was more reserved, too. He didn’t let his shoulder brush against her. He stood back and waited for her to pass in front of him lest his hand brush hers. His manners had become exhausting.
“Yah. What else would it be?” she said.
“I’m angry because—” He grit his teeth together. “It doesn’t even matter.”
“It matters to me,” she countered. “You’ve changed toward me. You’re different now, and you say you aren’t judging my adolescent stupidity, but I think you are.”
“I’ve changed, have I?” he shot back. “Maybe I have. I realized something, Rosmanda. You treated me like something under your boot for years. You acted like I was some kind of messed-up loser compared to you, the bishop’s’s daughter.” The words dripped with disdain. “You had expectations that men had to reach for.”
“I didn’t do that.” Was that really how he saw her?
“You did,” he said. “And then you tossed me aside for my brother.”
“So, we come back to that?” Rosmanda shook her head. “I chose him. He was a good man, and he’s the father of my children—”
“It’s not about that anymore,” Levi said, but another buggy was approaching, and he fell into silence. Rosmanda sat back in the seat, pasting what she hoped looked like a prim, appropriate look on her face. The approaching buggy was a neighbor, and he gave them a nod.
“Morning,” the neighbor said.
“Good morning,” Levi replied.
Rosmanda just nodded and gave a smile. The horses plodded on past them, and Rosmanda kept her stewing emotions silent for another couple of minutes, lest her words carry.
“So what is it about?” Rosmanda asked, turning toward him again.
Levi glanced over his shoulder at the retreating buggy. “Just tell me straight—how do you see me?”
“I don’t even know how to answer that,” she said with a shake of her head. “You’re my brother-in-law.”
“Who you kiss from time to time—”
“That was obviously a mistake!” Tears misted her eyes. “What are you saying, that I’m some kind of tramp?”
“No!” Levi turned toward her, his gaze filled with something she’d never seen before—a combination of anger and grief. “I don’t think that of you. And don’t say it again. My point is that you think I’m some kind of loser. I’m the one who wasn’t safe enough to marry. I’m the one who messed everything up when you dumped me, and ended up drinking my nights away in the bar. I’m the one who’s messed up, right?”
Rosmanda didn’t answer, her gaze locked on him.
“Right, then,” he said, as if that finalized it. “And all that time you had this hidden away?”
“You think I’d advertise it?” she asked with a bitter laugh.
“No. Of course not. I thought that if you had something of this magnitude hidden away in your past that you might have a little more empathy for people around you who have their own struggles. That’s what I thought.”
“I have empathy,” she said, her voice shaking.
“All those years, you stayed away from me,” he said. “You could have talked to me at service. You could have invited me for dinner. Anything—”
That wasn’t a lack of empathy. That had been her own fears that whatever attraction had been there before would still be there . . . and everyone would see it.
“It wasn’t my place to invite you—” she began.
“Was it your place to say hello?” he demanded. “Was it your place to treat me like a human being, or a part of the family?”
“I’m the daughter-in-law!” she shot back. “What power do I have? None! I do as I’m asked. I work hard. And I was a good wife to your brother. I was supposed to fix that rift between the two of you?”
“No, you were supposed to fix the rift between you and me!” His voice rose, and he shut his eyes for a moment, then softened his tone. “You made me feel like a walking failure, Rosie. Compared to you—compared to Wayne who’d been good enough for you—I was the black sheep.”
Rosmanda fell silent. She’d been careful, yes. And Levi had proven himself just as unreliably dangerous as she’d feared he’d be. After all she’d been through in Morinville, she needed safety, security, even a little bit of boredom.
“You weren’t a loser,” Rosmanda whispered. “You were a risk.”
“And I still am,” he barked.
“Yah. You still are!” Was she supposed to lie to him? “You aren’t a nice, stable farmer. You don’t weigh your words before you speak. You don’t find a nice girl who can cook and settle down like a rational man would. You’re thirty years old, and you’re still single!”
Rosmanda’s hands were shaking and she met his gaze, refusing to look down. What did he want from her, for her to forgive all his shortcomings because she had a few of her own? She wasn’t strong enough to make up for his! She had her own past chasing her down.
“Single. That’s what makes me a problem?” he asked with a bitter laugh. “I’m single because I don’t want to make a woman miserable. Would you rather I be like your friend Jonathan?” The name sounded bitter in his mouth.
“Be unfaithful?” she asked in disgust.
“I wouldn’t ever do that, but I could marry a girl I don’t love and let her find that out ever so slowly. It’s not only physical unfaithfulness that can break a woman, you know. I could settle down with some nice girl and break her heart when I can’t open mine. Does that sound better? Because from what Jonathan says, that’s what he did.”
“I didn’t say that,” she countered.
“Good, because I’m single. For good reason. I won’t do that to a woman.”
Rosmanda was silent for a moment, his words settling into her mind. He wouldn’t put a woman through the misery that Mary was living right now. And that was commendable, but there was a solution that she could see rather plainly—one that would allow him to move on with his life, and would put him safely and solidly out of her reach.
“You should open your heart,” she said. “You’re right—holding yourself back would only hurt your wife. So why hold yourself back? Find a nice girl and marry her.”
“The last time I opened my heart, she saw who I was in all my scarred and imperfect glory, and she married my brother.”
His words were like a slap, and she blinked, settling back against the seat. She’d broken his heart when he’d opened up to her. He’d told her his fears and his hopes, his insecurities, and she’d recognized that he was more complicated than a stable, pious farmer would be. He thought more. He q
uestioned more. He didn’t accept simple platitudes to comfort him. And neither did she! She couldn’t marry a man just like her. She saw the risk.
“So you’re angry that I never told you this,” she said.
“I understand you not telling me,” he replied woodenly. “I’m angry you made me feel like the only one with issues.”
Rosmanda had done that. It had been part of her carefully constructed new life. She had to be perfect, untouchable by gossip. She couldn’t risk anything again.
“Well, now you know.” Did he know how frightening this was for her? Did he recognize how vulnerable this made her?
“And I’d be glad if from now on you could recognize that I’m no more messed up than you are,” he said.
She nodded, swallowing hard. “Yah.”
His expression softened somewhat, and he sighed. “I get it. You had to find a safe farmer. My brother was just that. There were no layers with him. There were no complications. No risk.”
“He was ideal,” she agreed softly. “A genuinely good man without any guile.”
“Well, a little bit of guile,” Levi said humorlessly. “He did steal you away, after all.”
Rosmanda sighed. Yah, a little bit of guile, it would seem, but it was nothing compared to what she’d done.
“You’ll find another uncomplicated man,” Levi went on. “And perhaps in the meantime, we could have a bit of mutual respect, you and I.”
“I thought we had that,” she whispered. “Lately, at least.”
“Yah, but now it can be based on truth, not just a deal to avoid talking about the hard stuff.”
Rosmanda smiled wanly. “You mean like real friends?”
“We might have earned it by this point,” he said.
It looked like they had. But somehow, this real friendship felt harder to handle than their agreement to get along. Because before, she’d had the high ground to herself, whether she’d deserved it or not. And now, he knew the worst about her, too.
She didn’t like this. It felt a little too much like the risk she’d been running from.
* * *
Levi drove up in front of Josiah and Anna’s house and reined in the horses. He’d said too much—he hadn’t meant to come out with all of that. He’d meant to keep it inside and let it inform how he went forward. That was the Amish way, at least. Arguing and confrontation didn’t have a place in the Amish community. But then, he’d never been any Amish ideal, had he?
And neither had Rosmanda . . . underneath. He was still spinning from the revelations about her past. Rosmanda had been the image of Amish perfection here in Abundance. Had he made that up in his own head? He hadn’t seen any indication that she was anything but. However, it was commonly known that a man could be blinded by a beautiful woman, and Rosmanda had always been the kind of girl that made his heart speed up at the very sight of her.
He looked over at Rosmanda sitting primly beside him. Could he really be blamed for believing the image she put out there?
“Go on in,” Levi said. “I’ll unhitch.”
Rosmanda looked over at him hesitantly. “I can help.”
Even that was the perfect Amish offer—a woman willing to pitch in where needed.
“I don’t need help.” He didn’t mean for it to sound as harsh as it did, but he wasn’t over his anger just yet, either.
“All right, then.” She reached back for her package, and then slid down to the ground. Levi handed the quilt down to her, and she headed toward the house. He flicked the reins, getting the horses moving again.
He was angry still, he realized. And in times past, he would head out to the bar and drink it away. Or at least it had felt like his emotions were washed out with the alcohol, but it never worked. Not permanently. When he woke up the next morning with a brutal hangover, his problems would be right back where he left them. But he wasn’t going to do that anymore, and it was taking more self-control to kick old habits than he liked. It wasn’t the taste of alcohol that he missed, it was the temporary oblivion.
He reined the horses in next to another buggy, and when he hopped down, he saw Aaron leading some horses out to the corral. Aaron saw him and waved.
Levi had told himself that he’d face his problems from now on, but it seemed like he had more than his fair share right now.
“Good morning!” Aaron called, heading in his direction.
Levi nodded to him and started to unhitch. Aaron went to the other horse and began doing the same. They worked in silence for a few moments, until the horses were loose. They took off the saddles and Aaron patted the horse’s neck, then looked over at Levi.
“Did you talk to your daet?” he asked.
“Yah.” Levi nodded. “I did.”
Levi took both horses by the bridles and led them toward the corral where they could have some oats and enjoy the relative freedom for a little while.
“And?” Aaron crossed his arms over his chest, staying where Levi left him.
Levi pulled the corral gate shut again. Why did Levi have to be in the middle of this? He had his own problems to deal with, and the way he saw it, Aaron had caused this one himself.
“And my daet’s not keen on the idea of you marrying his sister,” Levi replied. “I’m sorry.”
Aaron frowned. “What was his reason, though? I make an adequate income to support her. She brings in a surprisingly good income from her quilts and crafts, too. So there would be no financial burden on your family. In fact, Ketura would be taken care of—”
“You know this isn’t about money,” Levi said with a sigh. “This is about your age.”
“If she doesn’t mind it, though—” Aaron started.
“Then it’s up to her family and the community at large to protect her from making a choice she’ll regret,” Levi replied.
“Like Rosmanda’s aunt Dina did?” Aaron snapped.
“What?” Levi hesitated.
“Was the community right when it came to you and Rosmanda?” Aaron demanded. “Because you never did stop loving her.”
“No one said anything to Rosmanda,” Levi said. “She would have told me.”
“Then I guess you were wrong, because her aunt did tell her to marry Wayne instead,” Aaron retorted. “Do you think the women aren’t involved in every single match that’s made? You’re naïve if you think that.”
“So, how do you know what the women are talking about?” Levi asked with a bitter laugh.
“The gossip was all over,” Aaron said, and his expression turned slightly guarded. “I . . . I thought you knew, actually.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Levi cast about inside of himself, looking for somewhere to put this new piece of information. She’d been warned off of him? So maybe she wasn’t the only one who thought he was the wrong kind of man.
“This isn’t about me and Rosmanda,” Levi said after a moment of silence. “And from what she says, she made the right choice in my brother.”
“Yah—but what about you? Was it right for you?”
Levi rubbed his hands over his face. “Can you let it drop?”
Aaron heaved a sigh. “Fine. Let’s talk about me, then. You’re trying to protect Ketura from a man who loves her, who will provide for her and take care of her. And if you warn her off of me, I’m not going to just get over her. I love that woman.”
“Maybe they’re concerned for you, too,” Levi said. “My daet wasn’t worried that you’d mistreat her. He was thinking about how people would treat you as a couple. You’d be talked about. You’d be outside the circle.”
“For a while—” Aaron replied.
“She’s going to age, Aaron!” Levi said, frustration rising. “She’s not going to look like this for another ten years, even. She’s almost fifty. She’ll look like your mamm.”
“I don’t care.”
“Does she care?” Levi demanded. “She loves you—I’ve seen that. But is this a temporary thing for her? Because they wouldn’t only be making fun o
f you. They’ll be saying that she looks like she’s with her son. And that’s going to hurt. She’ll feel older than she really is married to you.”
“Is that what she said?” Aaron asked, his expression clouding.
“No.” Levi grimaced. “I’m not speaking for her. I’m just saying that this is more complicated than just your feelings for each other.”
“And I know that,” Aaron replied. “That’s why I came to you before going to the elders.”
The elders . . . they were the last stop when a couple wanted to marry and their families didn’t approve.
“What about your mamm and daet?” Levi asked.
Aaron sighed. “They want me to have kinner.”
So they weren’t approving, either.
“Do you want kinner?” Levi asked.
Aaron sighed. “Yah. But I’ll be willing to live without kinner of my own if God doesn’t provide them. I love her. . . .”
“Have you really thought about this?” Levi pressed. “I mean, really . . . Have you considered what you’d be giving up, personally? It’s a lot to ask of a man to face everything you’d have to—”
“Ketura and I have been seeing each other for three years now.”
Levi sobered. This was no spur of the moment plan between them, it seemed. Not like him and Rosmanda. He’d fallen for her in a moment, and the romance that started up between them was hot and fast. He could argue that it had burned out just as quickly, except for him, it hadn’t. She’d moved on easily enough, and he’d been left in his misery alone.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Levi said. “I have no personal interest in blocking your marriage. I figure if the couple thinks they can face it, then they’re the best judge. But you don’t have my daet’s support.”
“All right, then.” Aaron nodded.
“I’m sorry,” Levi added.
“Yah.” Aaron’s expression was somber, and he fell into pace next to Levi as they headed toward the house.
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