The second horse bounded to its feet, although a little more slowly and less gracefully than the first. It limped as it came toward them, and Rosmanda felt a torrent of guilt.
“It’s hurt,” she said woodenly when Levi got to her side.
“Hey, you could have been worse, and so could the horse,” Levi said gruffly. “Come on. We’ll tie the horses up behind and lead them home. We aren’t far. We’ll take it slow.”
“The buggy—” she started.
“—will still be here tomorrow. We’ll haul it out,” Levi replied. “Come on. I’ll tie up the horses.”
Levi led the horses around the back of the buggy, and Rosmanda tried to hoist herself up into the seat. She put her foot on the runner and stepped, but her foot slipped and she fell heavily against the side, the air rushing out of her lungs. She sucked in a choking gulp of air.
“You okay?” Levi asked, coming up behind her.
“My feet—they got wet—” She tried to lift her leg up again, and this time Levi’s strong hands clamped down on her waist, and he lifted her upward. She grabbed at the handle and pulled herself up onto the seat with the last of her strength. Levi came up after her, taking the reins and settling himself next to her. He put his arm around her, pulling her solidly against him.
“Hold on to me,” he ordered, and he grabbed a lap rug from the seat next to him and dropped it over her, then flicked the reins.
She’d done enough here, damaged enough and put her in-laws through plenty with Jonathan’s scandalous visit. She wasn’t their problem, and things with Levi had gone too far already.
“Woman, you’re wet and cold. Hold on to me!” he barked.
Rosmanda slid her arm under his, the warmth from his body emanating against her. She shivered, and locked her arm down over his, shutting her eyes against that drilling snow.
For the moment, she was safe, and never before had she been quite so grateful to see a man arrive to her rescue. What had she been thinking about doing this on her own? She could raise her daughters by herself, given an adequate income, but it was about more than money. It was about all those things that men did in an Amish home—like this. A woman could be many things, but not everything.
She couldn’t do it alone. If there was no husband, then she at least needed her family—her daet, her brothers, her sister, her mamm and the other women, because community was there for a reason. They needed one another, whether they wanted to or not. Pride stood tall and unique. But community—the kind God ordained—was about accepting your own limitations, accepting help. She was no better than any other woman, no more deserving of taking her own path than any of the others were.
The horses plodded on and Rosmanda leaned into Levi’s strong, warm shoulder.
God, guide me. . . .
* * *
The storm had whipped into a fury by the time Levi turned the horses into the drive. He stopped the buggy in front of the house, then got down first so that he could help Rosmanda. She nearly fell into his arms as she came down from the fender, and he grabbed her tight around the waist and all but carried her to the side door. It flung open before he got to the steps, and the sound of crying babies came out toward them. Miriam came out to help, and between them they carried her inside.
Mamm pulled a chair in front of the stove, and Levi helped Rosmanda sit. Her lips were white and she was trembling with cold. The babies’ cries rose in a desperate wail, and Levi felt a pang. Those cries—he wanted to fix whatever was the problem, and he looked to his mother, looking for guidance, or an order, maybe.
“What happened to her?” Mamm gasped. She started running hands over Rosmanda’s limbs. “She’s drenched!”
“The buggy flipped. She was in the ditch,” he said. “Her feet are so cold she could barely stand—”
Mamm’s fingers moved quickly down Rosmanda’s calves and she pulled stockings off of her feet, and reached over to a nearby drawer and pulled out clean dishtowels.
“These will do—” She gently covered one of Rosmanda’s feet and looked back at Levi. “Go! Take care of the horses. We’ll be fine.”
“Are they okay?” He looked toward the sound of the crying—coming from upstairs.
“They want their mamm. And she’s here now.”
“Where’s Daet?” he asked.
“At the cow barn. You can help him when you’re done there. We’re fine. Go!”
Rosmanda met his gaze, but he couldn’t read what she was feeling. And he headed for the door. There were horses to bed down, an injured leg to see to, and the cattle that would need tending as well....
He shot Rosmanda an apologetic look, and then turned for the door. They’d eat—and talk—when the work was done.
* * *
When Levi finally stumbled back into the house that night, all was quiet once more. The noise and confusion from when they’d first arrived was gone, and the house smelled of food. Levi pulled off his boots, then his coat, and headed into the kitchen. Rosmanda stood there, a shawl still around her shoulders, and she wore thick socks and no shoes, but she looked more like herself. There was pink in her cheeks, which he was grateful to see. He looked around the kitchen. There was no sign of his parents.
“Are we alone?” he asked.
“Your daet needed your mamm to help with another cow giving birth. Something about twins and the mother wouldn’t accept, either. They don’t want any more bottle babies, so they’re trying to get things going.” Her voice was low, and she pulled a plate off the stove and put it onto the table next to a fork and knife. “So they’re at the barn . . .”
The plate was filled with cheddar mashed potatoes, fried sausage, and a pile of peas. His stomach rumbled. It had been a long time since he’d eaten last. She sat down kitty-corner to him at the table and leaned her elbow on the tabletop.
“The babies are down for the night, I take it?” he asked. The memory of their cries still tugged at an uncomfortable part of him.
“Sleeping like babies.” She smiled at her little joke.
So they were alone . . . He put the fork into the potatoes—it smelled amazing—but he couldn’t take a bite. He’d been thinking about her, worrying about her, ever since he dropped her off at the house, shivering, shaken, and worn. Even when he was staying clear of the family farm, giving her space with his brother, she’d been a part of this place. To have her leave . . .
“The quilt—it’s in the back of the buggy still.”
He’d seen it when he brought the horses in, and he’d meant to take it inside for Rosmanda when he came back from chores.
“I don’t think I can sell it,” she said softly.
“Rosmanda, are you really thinking of going?” he asked, putting down his fork.
She looked up at him, her eyes like dark wells. “Yah. I am.”
“Was Ketura encouraging you to go, too?” he asked bitterly.
“No. Well . . . not encouraging, exactly. But she understands.”
Even Ketura . . . Why were they so eager to push Rosmanda away?
“Am I the only one who wants you to stay?” Levi demanded. He pushed back his chair and stood up, walking over to the kitchen window and staring out at the falling snow, illuminated with golden inside light.
“Levi, it’s time!” she said, rising to her feet. “I’m not a daughter here! I’m a daughter-in-law . . . and not even that anymore. I’m the mamm to their granddaughters. And yes, that matters. Yes, I’m still a part of the family, but I’m not their responsibility for the rest of my life!”
“So you think you’re a burden then?” he demanded.
“It isn’t about wanting me to leave,” Rosmanda said. “Ketura has been married before. Twice. She knows my situation.”
“I know your situation, too,” he said bitterly. “And I still say this is your home.”
“I ruined your parents’ buggy,” she said. “It will cost a good amount to fix it. And the horse might be lame now—”
He’d set the horse up in
a stall with fresh hay. He’d bound the leg himself. A sprain, nothing more. He was certain of that.
“It’s not lame,” he said.
“Good. I’m so glad . . .” She smiled weakly. “I was afraid I’d hurt it, and it would suffer because of me, too.”
Levi shook his head. “Are you really thinking that we’re counting pennies around here? It could have happened to anyone! Accidents happen. Hell—accidents kill people!”
The smile slipped from her face, and she winced at those last words. He didn’t mean to be so crass—he hadn’t meant to swear, either. But he’d been through one too many buggy accidents—and the last one had taken Wayne.
“I should have stayed with Ketura—” she said.
“Yah, you should have!” He was angry now, and he couldn’t seem to rein it in. He felt his eyes mist, and he blinked it back. The image of that buggy—a shadow through the snow—rose up in his mind and his heart sped up at the memory. “Do you know what I thought when I saw that buggy turned over in the ditch?”
“I know—I’m sorry.”
“I thought I’d—” Emotion choked off his voice, but he forced the rest of the words out. “I thought I’d lost you, Rosie . . . I thought I’d have to find your body, and—”
“Oh, Levi—” She took a step toward him.
“And if I had to lose you, too . . .” He sucked in a breath, trying to find some sort of foundation, some resolute calm, but there was none. “If I had to lose the woman I love—”
The words were out before he could think better of them, and Rosmanda stared up at him, stunned. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, her dark eyes fixed on his face. He hadn’t said it aloud until now, but he was in love with her—still, or maybe again.
“And I’m not taking that back,” he said, closing the distance between them. He put his hand on her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. “I love you, Rosie. I have for years—when it would have been better to move on. But I loved you. And I couldn’t help it.”
Neither could his brother, it would seem. They’d had that in common.
“Levi, don’t—” she started.
“Don’t what?” he cut her off. “Don’t tell you the truth? Don’t allow myself to feel more than I should? Do you think I have a choice?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “It won’t help us.”
“I don’t care!” He dropped his hand, the inches between them feeling like a mile. “It never mattered anyway, did it? You married a man you didn’t love!”
“Levi . . .”
“Are you going to deny it?” he asked. “Did you fall in love with him? At any point, even after the wedding—did you?”
Rosmanda licked her lips. “Wayne was a good man. A strong, pious, moral man. I trusted him with my life, with my children. He was a good husband—”
“Were you in love with him?” Levi met her gaze, daring her to lie to him.
“I learned to love him,” she whispered. “That was enough.”
“No, it wasn’t.” He turned back toward the window again, his heart hammering so hard that he could feel it in his throat. “He knew it, you know.”
“He was kind and generous!” she said, her voice rising. “He was the kind of Amish man a woman could trust to never change!”
“But were you in love with him?” He turned, the anger pulsing through him. “Answer me! It should be simple, shouldn’t it? Did you love my brother?”
“I—” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Not in the way you’re asking. No.”
“But he did love you,” Levi said, shaking his head. “You knew that, didn’t you? He loved you, and he worked and worked to get you to love him back—”
Levi turned back toward her, his anger under control again. She needed to know this. If she was going to go off and do the same thing all over again to another man, she needed to understand exactly how to break an unloved man.
“I was a good wife!” Rosmanda said, anger snapping in her eyes. “I worked hard! I cleaned, I cooked, I ironed his clothes. I gave birth to his babies, and I would have stood by him for life!”
“But you loved me—” Levi said quietly.
Silence stretched between them, and she shrugged weakly.
“Yah, I loved you.” Her voice shook. “But he didn’t know it.”
“You think?” Levi met her gaze. “He knew it. That’s why he wouldn’t let me near you. Because he knew how you felt, and he knew he couldn’t compete with that. You loved me, but you chose him.”
“You know why,” she said.
“Because I was a risk,” he said gruffly. “Because I opened my heart to you and showed you everything—my weaknesses as well as my strengths. And you loved me.”
“Stop saying that!” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I had to let my head lead! I had to make the wise choice! I’d already trusted the wrong man—it didn’t matter if I loved you. What good was that? It doesn’t matter if I still do!”
She pulled her shawl tighter around her, and she looked so slender and frail standing there. He pulled her into his arms and looked down into her face. Then he lowered his lips over hers, kissing her with all the pent-up longing of the years he’d spent loving his brother’s wife. She sank against him, and his hands moved up her sides, up to cradle her face. He loved her so much that it ached within him, and he’d somehow gotten used to this constant pain.
He broke off the kiss with a ragged breath.
“Stay, Rosie,” he pleaded. “Don’t leave. Just . . . stay . . .”
She blinked her eyes open and looked up into his face. “For what?”
“For this.” He shrugged. “You belong here. You can’t deny that.”
“There was a time when Aaron and Ketura did the same thing, Levi,” she whispered. “They knew there was no future, but they kept going anyway. It didn’t change anything. And the heartbreak was there waiting for them—”
“Do we have to know everything up front?” he asked helplessly. “Can’t this be enough for now—knowing that we love each other? Because this is real, and if you’re afraid I’ll just stop loving you one day—”
“I’m not a strong Amish woman,” she whispered. “I’m weak in the ways that matter most—in faith, in self-control. I can’t be with a man who is just like me, Levi! I need a man who is strong next to my personal weakness. I need a man who can stand by our faith like a pillar, who isn’t shaken, who doesn’t question—”
“Even if you don’t love him?” he asked woodenly.
“I know what I need. I know what my daughters need! They’ll pay for my weakness, Levi, unless I can make up for it!”
Levi sighed. He knew that—she was right there. Her mistakes would reflect on her little girls both here and in Morinville. And maybe they were just like Aaron and Ketura, continuing something that had no hope in the real world. He loved her, but to marry her? Dare he tie himself for life to the woman who’d never think he was enough? And maybe they hadn’t had much choice in their feelings, but carrying on—it had only made it harder when they did have to face reality.
“Marriage isn’t just about longing and love,” Rosmanda said, tears welling in her eyes. “It’s about the everyday things, too. The community, the work, the kinner . . .”
“I know,” he said woodenly. “Jonathan told me that things changed when his wife saw him for what he really was. And you’ve already done that. It isn’t your fault—but you know my weaknesses.”
Boots sounded on the steps outside, and Rosmanda took a step away from him.
“I’m sorry, Levi,” she whispered. “Let’s not draw this out when we know how it ends—”
“So you’re truly going back to Morinville, then?” Levi asked softly.
Rosmanda’s chin quivered. “I think that’s best.”
The door opened and his parents came inside. Levi heard them stomp off their boots, and Rosmanda turned for the stairs, hurrying up and out of sight. When his father emerged into the kitchen, he looked over at L
evi quizzically.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yah.” Levi swallowed hard. “Yah, I’m fine. I’m going to check the horses.”
He might be a fool for loving her, but at least he’d told her how he felt. They’d both go on to marry others whom they’d never love half as much as they’d loved each other. And maybe it could be enough. Maybe the others wouldn’t know that it could have been deeper.
But right now, he just needed to get out, so he left the food on the table, plunged his feet into his boots, and pressed out into the night.
Chapter Eighteen
Rosmanda sat on the edge of her bed, tears trickling down her cheeks. She sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to keep her sobs silent. She loved him . . . She’d been holding that back for too long because it didn’t matter. She wasn’t looking for love. One day when her girls were grown, they were going to need husbands of their own, and she couldn’t allow her own selfishness now to stand in the way of their future.
What would have happened if Jonathan hadn’t gotten Mary pregnant before their wedding? What if he’d married her instead? Would she be happy now with a man of such low character? Of course not. She’d be miserable, all because she followed her stubborn heart after the wrong man.
And Levi was the wrong man, too. He might love her, and she might love him. He might make her heart race and she might long for his touch like she’d never longed before . . . but he was too much like her. He wouldn’t hold her firmly to the faith, to the community. He wouldn’t make up for her failures, and she already had plenty. Her mistake with Jonathan would not go away, and she’d have to be proving herself with every step she took from now on.
Especially when she went home.
Rosmanda looked over at her sleeping daughters in the light of the little oil lamp on her dresser. It flickered, and Hannah sighed deeply in her sleep. They were so very small, and yet she could imagine them as older girls playing with neighbors and gossiping with other girls on Service Sunday. Ketura was right—marriage wasn’t just about how a woman saw herself, but how the community saw her, too. And that bled onto her daughters. They wouldn’t be this small for long....
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