Tomorrow was supposed to be church at the Peachy farm, but with this snowfall, it would be cancelled. Everyone would be digging out. Rosmanda stood and looked out the window. The snow was falling more gently now, the wind having died down. Out there in the buggy barn, Levi was avoiding her. She’d seen him leave the house from her window, heard the slam of the door. What was he thinking now? And what did it say about her that she wanted nothing more than to run outside and go to him?
She knew he was wrong for her. She knew her feelings were betraying her. She knew it! And yet, all she wanted was to feel Levi’s arms close around her once more.
“Stop being weak,” she murmured to herself.
Rosmanda owed Wayne’s memory better than this. She owed his daughters better than this . . . If she could just go home to her own family, maybe she could get her balance back at long last.
Her gaze moved away from the buggy barn and toward the drive that led to the main road. She couldn’t see far through the snowfall, but she didn’t have to. She’d stared out this window so often . . . Somewhere, along the road, the buggy lay in a fractured heap, and it felt like a crack in her own heart. She’d caused enough trouble for her in-laws, and when they finally dug out here at the farm, the men would go get that buggy and drag it home.
That was life—one job after another, one obligation after another. And she’d officially become the family obligation, the problem to be fixed. Ironically, she understood how Levi felt around here a little bit. He’d been the family problem for far too long, and now she’d supplanted him in that.
Rosmanda closed the curtain and pulled off her dress and slipped into a soft, warm nightgown. She unwound her hair from the bun, and let it fall over her shoulders. Tomorrow morning, she would ask Stephen to buy her the bus tickets to take her and her daughters back to Indiana.
One last expense, and she would be off of her father-in-law’s conscience.
* * *
The next day, Levi stayed busy as he and his father dug them out from the snowstorm. Temperature had already risen overnight, and the snow started to melt, making each shovelful of snow that much heavier. Paths needed to be forged from the barn to the house and to the chicken coop, too. The cattle needed hay to be delivered to the feeders, water troughs to be filled . . . And after all of that was done, they took a team of horses to pull the buggy out of the ditch. Service Sunday would be postponed.
“Rosmanda has asked that I pay for her to go back to Indiana,” Stephen said as they hitched up a chain to the buggy.
“When?” Levi asked hollowly.
“Obviously not today,” Stephen replied. “Tomorrow, maybe.”
Levi sighed.
“Is there something still there, Son?” Stephen asked. He waded through the deep snow toward the horses, then looked back at Levi.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Ah. So that’s the tack you’re taking.”
“Daet, she was Wayne’s.”
Wasn’t that the point Mamm had hammered home so well yesterday? Wayne was dead and they had no right to hold on to Rosmanda. He had no right to hold on to her.
Stephen didn’t answer, and he took the horses by the bridle. “Hya. Forward. Hya!”
The horses started to pull and the buggy creaked as it tipped upward, great avalanches of snow falling off the smooth side as it slowly rose higher and higher. When it finally came down onto its wheels, it rocked a couple of times, and Daet stopped the horses.
“I want you to bring her to the bus depot for me,” Daet said.
Levi eyed his father warily. Did he even want to do that? It wouldn’t make things any easier, but at least he’d get a good-bye. He nodded.
“Yah, I can do that.”
“Good.” Stephen nodded to the buggy. “Watch to see if it’ll roll properly, will you?”
The rest of the day was filled with sweat and hard work. They brought the buggy back home, parked it in the buggy barn, and proceeded with all their regular chores with knee-deep, melting snow to slow them down. When they got back for meals, he ate hungrily, but Rosmanda didn’t give him much opportunity to talk to her. She stayed at the sink washing dishes while he ate lunch, and after dinner, when Stephen told her that Levi would take her to the bus depot the next day, she smiled gratefully.
“Thank you,” she said, and her gaze swung toward Levi. “I appreciate it.”
And then she’d taken her daughters upstairs to change their diapers, and to pack. Levi stood in the kitchen, staring at the empty staircase.
“We’ll all miss her, Levi,” Miriam said softly.
“Yah.”
Rosmanda was avoiding him. She had been ever since they’d said everything there was to say. They loved each other, and there was no future there. She was right that it was better to break it off and quit torturing themselves, but her distance from him still hurt.
“It won’t be the same around here without a young woman,” Miriam said. “Maybe you’ll start going to the youth meetings, find a girl to drive home from singing.”
A wife—that was his mother’s solution here? Yah, he understood it from her point of view. Rosmanda, the woman who’d caused so much strife in their family, would be sent off to Indiana again, and they could get back into a regular routine. And why wouldn’t a young man marry? He was eligible, and while Rosmanda might not want to take a chance on him, there were plenty of young women who would love nothing more.
But he wasn’t interested in finding some sweet girl to let down. He knew what real love was, and tying himself down to a woman he didn’t feel that kind of passion for seemed cruel. It couldn’t be faked.
“I don’t know about that, Mamm,” he said.
“A home isn’t a home without a wife, Son,” she said. “And you’re a grown man now. Being here with your daet and me is going to only frustrate you. You need a wife. It’s time.”
It’s time—wasn’t that what Rosmanda had said about her returning to Indiana? It was time. Things needed to change. Everyone else seemed pretty convinced about that.
“I’ll take Rosmanda to the bus after chores in the morning,” he said.
He wasn’t talking about the future, pretending that Rosmanda’s departure could be good for him. Because it wasn’t.
* * *
The next morning, after chores, Rosmanda’s suitcase and a couple of boxes sat by the door, the plastic-wrapped quilt on top of them. Levi looked at them morosely—was that all that was left of her life here with them? She had a baby bag packed to bulging. Her bedroom had been left clean—he’d looked inside her room, and found the bed and cribs all stripped, the floor swept and mopped, the surfaces dusted. It was like she was wiping out the last trace that she’d ever been here.
Stephen and Miriam both gave her a hug and each of the babies a kiss, and then it was time to leave. Levi felt conflicted. He didn’t want this moment to come, and yet he wanted to get it over with, too.
“Let’s pray together,” Stephen said.
Levi stood next to Rosmanda as his father prayed for traveling mercies, for protection, for a fresh start in her hometown. He could feel the warmth of her hand close to his, but he didn’t touch her. When they lifted their heads, Rosmanda hugged Stephen and Miriam once more, and then followed Levi out the door.
Levi carried out the boxes first and put them in the back of the buggy. Stephen carried her suitcase and that quilt, and put them in front of the boxes. Then Levi helped Rosmanda up into the buggy seat, Susanna and Hannah were handed up to her, and they were ready to leave.
Levi flicked the reins and the horses started out. The day shone warm, the snow from the blizzard steadily melting away, and the sound of dripping coming from the trees. It would be empty here without her. He looked over at Rosmanda, both babies cuddled close on her lap. Her eyes were filled with misgiving, and her gaze flickered in his direction as she noticed his scrutiny.
“You can change your mind, you know,” he said with a small smile.
“No.” She looked down at her daughters on her lap. “This is good for us. My parents will be so happy to have these two to dote on—”
“Yah,” he agreed.
“You know I have to do something, Levi,” she said. “You know that. Even if I stayed, I’d have to find an appropriate husband. Things would have to change.”
“I know.” He hated it, but he knew it.
“Levi, this is good for you, too,” she said quietly.
Was she imagining him marrying some girl and settling down the way everyone hoped he would? Would that actually comfort her?
“I’m going to miss you,” he said.
“Me too.” She cast him a misty smile.
“Just promise me that you’ll tell me before you get married,” he said. “Tell me who he is.”
“So you can hate him a little bit?” she asked with a low laugh.
“Yah. I think it’s only fair.”
“All right. I’ll write you and tell you then.”
“You could write about other things, too. . . .” He hesitated. “I want to know that you’re okay—no ulterior motives.”
“I know,” she said. “You’re not Jonathan. Trust me, I know that.”
“So, you’ll write?” he said.
“Yah, I’ll write. To all of you—your mamm and daet, too.”
Not quite the fulfilment of his hopes, but he understood. Their earlier intimacy couldn’t just change forms. It had to be over.
His heart was heavy, and a couple of times after that they tried to start up some small talk, but it felt empty and they let it drop, opting for silence instead. Silence seemed more honest, anyway.
When they got to the bus depot, Levi tied the horses up at the hitching post outside, and then carried her boxes and bags into the depot. There weren’t many people inside—a young couple at one end of the station who seemed quite preoccupied with each other, and an older woman reading a book. There were no Amish there today, and he was glad for that. This wouldn’t be an easy good-bye, and he didn’t want to do it in front of people he knew.
When he went back to the buggy, Rosmanda handed the babies down to him one at a time, and he looked down into those little faces with a wistful smile. The next time he saw them, they’d be little girls, running around. They wouldn’t remember him. . . .
Rosmanda got down from the buggy and took Hannah in her arms, leaving Susanna with him.
“Thank you for buying my ticket,” she said. “I appreciate all you and your parents have done for me. I know I’ve caused some damage recently, and—”
“Rosie, stop that,” he said with a shake of his head. “If you need anything, I want you to tell me. If Jonathan gives you any trouble, I’ll come down myself and deal with him personally.”
She smiled. “That’s sweet.”
“I mean it,” he said. “Just write to me. I’ll drop everything.”
“We can’t do that, Levi,” she said, sobering. “You know it. We have to just . . . part ways. Move on. There is only misery waiting if we drag this out.”
Levi sighed. “Let’s go get your ticket, then.”
Inside the depot, Levi paid for two tickets, since Rosmanda would need both seats. The trip from Pennsylvania to Indiana would take ten hours including their rest stops. He handed her the tickets, and her fingers lingered on his for a moment.
“Who will pick you up?” he asked.
“My daet. Your father called the Englisher neighbor and left a message for him last night. They’d bring him the message right away. He’ll be there.”
Levi nodded. She’d be fine. Her family would be glad to take care of her from here on in, but he hated letting go. She wasn’t just his nieces’ mother, or his late brother’s wife. She was Rosie, the girl who had held him by the heartstrings ever since he first met her. Falling in love with her had been a terrible idea, but it had happened years ago, and there was no undoing it, just living with it.
He longed to pull her into his arms and kiss her the way she should be kissed . . . but he wouldn’t. They already knew where they stood.
“Levi, this has to be good-bye,” Rosmanda said, tears welling in her eyes.
“I know,” he said. “The next time I see you, you’ll be married, I’m sure.”
“God willing.” She dropped her gaze. “For my girls’ sake, at least.”
“Do you want me to stay until the bus comes?” he asked, glancing in the direction of the glass doors where the buses arrived.
“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll sit next to that older lady, and I can guarantee you that she’ll help me with the girls.”
Community—even the Englisher kind—was going to take over now. She wasn’t his to hold on to, and she’d find her way without him.
“Okay, well . . . I guess this is good-bye, then,” he said, and a lump rose in his throat.
She hesitated, then nodded quickly. “Yah. I think that’s best. Good-bye, Levi.”
Staying any longer wouldn’t make this any easier, so he leaned down and kissed her cheek one last time, then touched the heads of each of his nieces.
“God go with you,” he said gruffly, and he turned and forced himself to walk away.
Every step was a deliberate choice going against his heart, and it took all of his personal strength to do it. When he got outside, he turned and looked back. He could see her through the window, her pale face turned toward him, her eyes filled with grief. He wanted to march back in and drag her back home with him, but that was foolish. Rosmanda had made her choice—even if it tore out her heart. She’d always been strong like that.
He untied his horses and got back up into the buggy. His throat was thick with emotion, and he flicked the reins. The buggy started forward, and he wouldn’t look back again. It was taking everything inside of him to hold his emotions in check.
So he guided the horses through town, and when he got out onto open road at last, tears leaked past his defenses and trickled down his cheek. He tried to blink them back and dashed them away with the back of his hand, but they wouldn’t stop.
He was crying for Rosmanda—the only woman he’d ever truly loved. And he was crying for his brother, who had loved her, too. He was crying for all he’d lost, and all he’d hoped for, and the life he knew he didn’t deserve.
God, take away this love . . . make this easier!
And he truly hoped God would answer his prayer, because he didn’t know how he was going to get through this without a drink. The thirst was rising up inside of him, a desperate longing for that comforting distance that alcohol brought.
He wiped his face and cleared his throat. He wouldn’t let himself cry. Not anymore. He looked at his watch. Yah. There was time, and he wouldn’t be missed.
There was an AA meeting starting in a few minutes in the Elk Hall in town. He’d head in there and get past the temptation. Then he’d go home.
He wasn’t much use to anyone if he lost this sobriety token, anyway.
Chapter Nineteen
Rosmanda’s daet, Benjamin Graber, sat at the kitchen table the next morning, both of his granddaughters on his lap. He was a solidly built man who ordinarily faced the world with a solemn expression, but with the babies on his lap, he smiled tenderly. Susanna reached up and took a handful of his gray beard, giving it a tug.
“You’ll pull it off,” Benjamin said. “Oops! See? It’ll come right off!”
He dipped his head down and Susanna broke into a smile. She tugged again.
“You sure are big,” he said. “Aren’t you? Aren’t you?”
He made a face and Susanna giggled, but Hannah continued to stare up at him seriously.
“This one doesn’t think I’m funny,” Benjamin said, looking mildly disappointed.
“That’s Hannah, and she takes a bit longer to win over,” Rosmanda said, and she chuckled. This was good for her girls . . . and good for her daet, too. He’d retired from farmwork because of his heart condition, but he did make on
e supervisory trip around the farm a day, checking on the work of his employees. And he was still bishop, too, even though he had the elders do most of the preaching now.
“So, we told Sadie that you were coming—” her mamm, Sarah, began.
“Your mamm got into the buggy and went straight to their house to tell them,” Benjamin said. “Sadie’s excited, and the kids all want to see their aunt again. You haven’t met her youngest, Benjie—he’s almost walking now.”
“He sat up,” Mamm said, casting Daet a flat look. “That’s a far sight from walking, Daet.”
Benjamin chuckled, and Rosmanda couldn’t help but smile. Her daet had never been quite this playful—not in her childhood, at least. Coming home felt a little foreign—a lot had changed. Bishop Graber had taken everything very seriously back when she was young. But he’d softened over the years, it seemed.
Sadie, Rosmanda’s older sister, had married Elijah Fisher, and Elijah now ran his father’s fencing business. They’d been married nearly ten years and had six children. Rosmanda had kept up with her sister through letters, but the busier Sadie got, the more sparse her time for letter writing. The last letter had been a picture drawn by one of the kids showing a Bible story, and a quick note saying that they were thinking of her in her time of grief and that her oldest son, Samuel, had written a Christmas poem that he read in front of the class at school. The letter had arrived in January.
“Anyway,” Mamm said. “Sadie is hosting the quilting night at their place tonight, and I said we’d come.”
“Quilting night—for all the women?” Rosmanda asked hesitantly.
“Yah, but I think it’s best you walk in with your head held high. You’re a widow. You’ve been married. And you’re a mamm, too. Don’t give them an inch, Rosmanda.”
She’d come back to make Morinville her home again, and she knew it was probably best to start out strong. If she went to the quilting night, she could prove that there was nothing to be ashamed of. She wouldn’t hide.
Thursday's Bride Page 24
