A Time for Peace

by Barbara Cameron

  Pilot shook his great head and backed up.

  "I don't have time for this," she told him. "If you give me too much trouble I'll just go get Daisy. Sweet-natured, cooperative Daisy."

  He pawed the ground and shook his head again as if to tell her what he thought of that. So she gathered up her courage and walked into the stall and slipped the bridle over his head and fastened it. Don't show him you're afraid, Matthew had said. Then you'll lose control forever.

  Well, there was still a cold grip of fear around her heart when she did this but Pilot hadn't ever shown any sign that he'd hurt her. If there had ever been even an inkling that could happen, Matthew wouldn't have the horse on the farm. But she couldn't help feeling a little wary as he walked outside with her and let her hitch him up to the buggy.

  "Might be my lunch," she said as he began sniffing at her shoulder purse as she hitched him to the buggy. "Might be something for you."

  When he nuzzled her cheek she laughed and relaxed. "You are such a handsome guy. And charming. Have I mentioned charming?"

  She finished and stood back to admire her handiwork. Pilot nodded and nudged her with his nose. "Okay, okay, I'll see if I can find an apple for you for being good."

  Before she could do what she said, he nosed at her purse and she laughed again.

  "I swear, you can sniff out an apple like Annie can sniff out a cookie."

  She pulled out the apple and handed it to him. "This is our secret, you hear? If Matthew found out I was spoiling you this way I'd never hear the end of it."

  She climbed into the buggy and Pilot tossed his head and began leading them down the drive. Jenny sighed and smiled to herself. Success. She hadn't had to call Matthew as she'd had to do a few times in the beginning. He didn't mind— ever—and even showed up sometimes to hitch up Pilot when he knew she needed to go to town.

  But even children knew how to do such a task here and she was determined not to be intimidated by this four-legged beast. An Amish fraa did such things herself and she was determined to be a good Amish fraa.

  Driving a buggy was second nature to her now. The first few times she'd driven one after she had an accident had been hard. But like the old saying, you had to get back on the horse—or behind it!—and just do it again. Or walk. And you couldn't walk everywhere you needed to anyway.

  But the accident had taught her to be more careful, to look both ways, and then get quickly onto the road. She'd hesitated when she'd approached the road that time, not given firm enough directions to Daisy. And the driver of the car had been going too fast, like so many did, heedless of the danger to buggies.

  So as she approached the road, she was firm with Pilot. And former racehorse that he was, he knew not to hesitate and got them onto the road quickly.

  Jenny pulled into the drive next door to see if Hannah needed anything from town. To her surprise, Hannah came hurrying out of the house before she could alight from the buggy.

  "Rescue me!" she hissed. "I don't care where you're going or how long you're going to be gone. Just let me ride along."

  "Do you promise to behave?" Jenny asked, tongue in cheek.

  "You do not know what I've gone through for the last few days," Hannah told her. "Let me go get my purse and I'll tell you all about it on the way into town."

  Jenny had never seen Hannah quite so rattled. She was the closest thing to a drama queen Jenny had been around since— well, she couldn't remember.

  "Thank goodness you came over," Hannah said with a big sigh after Jenny helped her heave herself into the buggy.

  "The visit isn't going well?"

  Hannah rolled her eyes. "Everything's so tense between Chris and his father. I keep telling Chris that he needs to remember his father loves him or he wouldn't have come to visit.

  "Fern says William doesn't understand why Chris came here. Or why he stayed. And Chris doesn't think he should have to explain himself."

  She lifted her chin. "And he shouldn't. Chris went through a very difficult time and his father didn't seem to understand."

  "It's not easy for others to understand," Jenny said quietly. "War isn't war. I mean, what Chris experienced—what I saw— overseas isn't like what William went through when he served. And the military wasn't the male bonding experience Chris expected, what he'd heard about from his dad growing up. His buddies turned on him when he refused to look the other way about what Malcolm did. And when Chris was injured just before coming back, well—"

  "He felt God turned His back on him, too."

  "Exactly."

  "You understood that," Hannah told her. "Chris told me that. He said you showed up at the same hospital he was at for tests and the two of you started talking and he started getting some of the answers he'd been looking for."

  "Well, I don't think I had any answers—"

  "He thought so," Hannah interrupted her. "I'm glad he thought so. He came here to Paradise to talk to you some more. Just think about it. If he hadn't, he and I wouldn't have met and gotten married."

  Taking a deep breath, Hannah leaned back against the seat. "William and Fern weren't expecting this." She held her hands protectively over her abdomen.

  "He didn't let them know?"

  Hannah shook her head. "He said they didn't come to the wedding so why bother?"

  "I imagine it was quite a shock for them to have him embrace the religion and the way of life here."

  "Try telling Chris that. He says his father's always been stubborn and unwilling to listen to him. Then when Chris returned home after his military service, the distance between them grew wider."

  "Are you warm enough?" Jenny asked, noticing that Hannah pulled her shawl closer around her. "There's an extra blanket on the back seat."

  Hannah turned for it but movement was awkward for her. Jenny took her eyes off the road and reached for the blanket. This is something I can't do in a car, she couldn't help thinking.Pilot wouldn't veer off the road if Jenny didn't pay attention.

  "You're being quiet. Either that or I'm talking too much. "Hannah thought about it for a minute. "I'm talking too much."

  "You needed to vent."

  "You look exhausted."

  "Wow, such flattery."

  "It's too much for you to be caring for Phoebe on top of your family and your home. And your book deadline."

  "I'm managing. Really."

  "Nothing else is wrong, is it?"

  Jenny sighed inwardly. Hannah was far too observant and far too plainspoken. "What could be wrong?"

  Hannah laughed. "Matthew's my brother, but he's far from perfect."

  She sobered and put her hand on Jenny's arm. "You know if you need someone to talk to I won't say anything to anyone. Especially Matthew. I'd probably even take your side."

  Jenny avoided her gaze. "Nothing's wrong."

  She winced inwardly at the lie. But she didn't have any choice. This was something that was just too personal to share with anyone. She was still hoping that there was a good reason for what Phoebe had done.

  And her biggest hope was that Matthew hadn't known about it.

  Matthew couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

  Jenny was a silent shadow of herself lately. At first he'd blamed her behavior on her being exhausted. He knew what it was like to be a caretaker since his first wife had been terminally ill for so long.

  His friends and family had helped. They'd brought in meals, taken the kinner to school, helped with farming chores, sat with Amelia when Matthew needed to grab a few hours' sleep.

  But no one bore the burden of care that a loving family member who was the caretaker did.

  He knew that Jenny had been so worried about Phoebe since she'd gotten sick that she'd barely slept, barely ate. But something else was going on. He felt it in the mildly uneasy way a husband did when his wife became distant for no discernable reason.

  His glance went to the calendar. It wasn't her time of the month. That had happened a week ago and she'd been disappointed and a littl
e moody as she'd been since they'd been married and she hadn't conceived. And it wasn't their anniversary.He knew better than to forget that. What husband survived forgetting an anniversary?

  Just a little while ago Jenny had announced she needed to run some errands. She'd rushed out, refusing his help with Pilot. That in itself had been another signal that something was wrong.

  He knew how Pilot still sometimes seemed to enjoy giving Jenny a hard time when she wanted to hitch him to the buggy. Anyone who thought horses were dumb animals should watch that interplay.

  Restless, he checked the time and headed outside. Walking in the fields always helped him think. The earth was barren of crops, the dirt carefully turned over. Soon the weather would turn colder and snow would cover it, pristine and white. He liked to think that the earth rested, absorbing the remnants of the roots of the crops he'd harvested, using the nutrients and the rain and snow and it would be richer for the seeds he'd plant in the spring.

  Lost in thought, he almost missed Chris waving to him from the fields next to his. Matthew waved back and watched Chris stride over.

  "Out for a walk?" Chris asked him when they were within a few feet of each other.

  Matthew nodded. "It's a good place to think."

  Chris glanced back at the house he shared with Hannah and he frowned. "It's a good place to get away, too."

  "Visit not going well?"

  "That would be an understatement."

  A chill wind blew around them. When Chris shivered, Matthew jerked his head toward his house. "I just put some kaffe on."

  "Sounds good."

  They walked into the house and both men took off their jackets and hats and hung them on pegs.

  "Smells good." Chris sat at the table.

  "I think there are some cookies in the jar."

  "Hannah's oatmeal raisin?"

  "Ya, I think so."

  "I've had enough of those, thanks. Hannah's been doing a lot of baking. I think it takes her mind off things. Wish that's all it took for me," he muttered.

  "Is there any way I can help?" Matthew brought two mugs to the table and sat.

  Chris looked at him, then away.

  "Oh," Matthew said suddenly. "Maybe it's personal."

  Coloring, Chris glanced at him. "It is."

  Where was an interruption when he needed one? Matthew wondered. He cast a desperate glance at the clock. It was at least an hour before the kinner got home from schul.

  "If it's about . . . marital relations, perhaps the bishop could offer some advice. Or the counseling center in town."

  Matthew tried to keep his eyes level with Chris so the man wouldn't feel badly. He was uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation but he didn't want Chris to feel sorry that he'd turned to him or feel ashamed. But his collar was suddenly feeling so tight he wanted to pull it away from his neck so he could breathe.

  Chris waved a hand and began laughing. "Oh, sorry. It's not at all what you think."

  Matthew looked at him warily. "No?"

  "No." Chris sobered. "I'm going to tell you something but if you don't keep it to yourself I'll—I'll—" He stopped and shook his head. "Well, I don't know what I'll do but men should help each other in this, you know? Like—support each other."

  "Chris, I don't understand what you're talking about."

  "Childbirth! I'm scared to death of childbirth!"

  Feeling a huge relief, Matthew grinned. "Well," he began. "The first thing to know is that you're not going to have to have the baby—" he broke off as Chris punched his arm. "Ow! I was just joking!"

  "It's not funny," Chris muttered darkly. "It's easy for you to joke. After your wife had the first and you knew what to expect—well, it must gotten easier to go through it."

  "Only a little," Matthew told him, sobering as he remembered. "Each time I tried to trust God and know that all would be fine but I have to admit I was always a little scared until the baby was born and both it and Amelia were okay."

  "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to Hannah." Chris swallowed hard. "I almost lost it when she got shot by a man who was trying to hurt me. I'll never forget what it felt like to see her unconscious and bleeding and wonder if I was going to lose her."

  He took a shaky breath and stared at the ground.

  Matthew had had trouble liking this man when he first came here. Who wouldn't have been suspicious of a man a brother found up in a hayloft in the barn? But everything had been explained and at some point Matthew had realized that he didn't need to keep an eye on this stranger in their midst— his sister kept a steely eye on him. Matthew hadn't found out until later that Hannah thought Chris came here to steal Jenny away from him.

  But once she'd found out that Chris didn't have ulterior motives, it hadn't been long before the two of them had fallen in love. It seemed a strange match at first—this former warrior from the Englisch world and his sister, an Amish woman who'd never been outside the small community of Paradise, Pennsylvania.

  Hannah loved this man and he'd come to love her as well. He was a good man who took good care of his wife, his farm, his community.

  Matthew didn't like to see him so worried even if it was over his sister. So he laid a hand on his shoulder and patted it—if a bit awkwardly—and did his best to think of words that would reassure.

  "Women have been having babies for thousands of years—"

  "That's supposed to reassure me?"

  "She's had good checkups, hasn't she? Other than the baby trying to kick its way out everything's been fine? Childbirth is much less risky than it used to be."

  "Yeah, but I've been reading some of the stuff in the doctor's office while I wait for her and it's scary."

  He kicked at a clump of dirt and then he glared at Matthew."This thing about being in the delivery room. I gotta tell you, I'd rather be on the front lines."

  Matthew couldn't help it. He laughed.

  "It's not funny! I don't want to see Hannah in pain."

  "But you're going to find a way to be there with her," Matthew said quietly. "You'll find a way to force yourself because she means too much to you."

  Chris rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe."

  "And you're not going to want to miss seeing that boppli for the first time," Matthew continued. "There's no describing the feeling of seeing your child as it's being born. It's the closest I've ever felt to God. That and when I stood and said my wedding vows."

  Emotion welled up in his throat. He hadn't ever said this to anyone but Jenny and Amelia. Well, that wasn't exactly true.

  He'd never told Jenny the part about how he felt at the birth of his kinner. He couldn't tell her that. He was afraid saying it would just make her unhappy. If they had a baby together some time in the future, he'd tell her then.

  As they turned to walk back to their houses, Matthew saw Chris's face brighten and he began walking faster. Curious, Matthew looked in the direction that Chris was and saw Hannah picking her way carefully toward them.

  Then Chris lengthened his strides, closed the distance, and scooped her up in his arms. She laughed and lifted her face for his kiss.

  A little embarrassed at witnessing their display of affection, Matthew mumbled a hello to his sister—who completely ignored him—and hurried past them.

  And as he did, he heard Chris telling her, "I dreamed this happening once, you coming for me in the fields. It was that night we sat up with Daisy when she was sick because Malcolm had poisoned her."

  "I remember that night. We talked for hours. You fell asleep because you'd been helping Matthew with the harvest."

  "I was dreaming that you and I walked these fields and I was so happy, looking forward to being with you on our own land, starting a life together. You were glowing with the joy of being pregnant. We kissed—"

  "And then you woke up and found that Daisy was kissing you!" she cried and their laughter floated back to Matthew as Chris carried her to their home.

  Jenny was making the bed when he
r fingers touched the book tucked in between the mattress and the box spring.

  She drew it out and set it on top of the quilt. Things had been so hectic since her grandmother fell ill that she not only hadn't been able to work on her latest book—she hadn't written in her journal.

  It was hard to remember how many years she'd been writing in a journal. Definitely since she turned thirteen. Her early journals had been full of typical teenage angst as she used them to work through her feelings about school and boys and a summer doing missionary work with her father and missing her mom.

  As she grew older, her entries became less angst-driven. And then, the summer she visited her grandmother here in Paradise, she'd written complaint after complaint about a place that seemed so foreign to her at first. No electricity? What, had she traveled back to the dark ages? No cars? She'd just gotten her learner's permit. And people dressed so quaintly . . . even if they were the nicest people she'd ever met. Even if everyone had welcomed her as the beloved granddaughter of one of their favorite people.

  And the boy next door couldn't take his eyes off her. Or she, him. She wrote about him endlessly. His blue eyes were so intense. He had such muscles from the hard work he did . . . she'd watched him from her bedroom window whenever she could. And he listened, really listened, but didn't do so for what he could get from her like the boys she knew back home.

  Why, she'd filled one journal with entries about him just from that first month's visit.

  She'd always kept her journal tucked between the mattress and box spring—not that she'd had to hide anything from her father who wasn't nosy but just because she didn't want to leave her private thoughts out and tempt him should he wander into her room.

  Now, she did the same thing. Not that Matthew had never shown any curiosity about the journal but she still kept it where she did for the same reason she had at her home with her father.

  She finished making the bed and picking up the journal, carried it downstairs.

  The house was quiet with the children at school, Matthew off in the barn puttering around with seed catalogs and cleaning equipment and whatever else he did in the winter and Phoebe was taking a nap. It seemed like the perfect time to journal.