by Marta Perry
Leah patted her shoulder. “I think when the two Beiler sisters are determined, no one will stand in their way for long. We’ll get her there.”
“Samuel will help. We talked about it, and he’ll convince Joseph.”
“Ja, that’s gut. Myra needs everyone in agreement on this.”
Leah gestured toward the grassy lane that led to the shed, and Anna turned in. Betsy probably wondered why she was making two trips to a phone shanty in one day, but she plodded along obediently.
“So you and Samuel are getting close, ain’t so?” Leah said.
A few days ago Anna would have been able to turn the question away with a laughing response. Now she couldn’t. Now her throat clogged with tears at the thought of how she’d left things with Samuel.
If she could change what she’d said to him—no, she probably wouldn’t if she could. What she’d said was true. She dare not risk doing what he wanted. And if Pete came . . .
If Pete came, all she could do was what she’d done before. Run. As far and as fast as she could.
• • •
Joseph was getting stronger—there was no doubt about that in Samuel’s mind. He’d come out to the shop when Anna left for Leah’s again, obviously curious.
Not having figured out how to tell him about Myra, Samuel had taken the cowardly way and shown him the machine he was working on. The result was predictable. At the moment, Joseph was seated on a chair next to the workbench, tinkering with the portable generator that had been acting up.
Joseph’s improvement was a relief to Samuel’s mind, but in a way he almost wished it weren’t so, since that might give him an excuse not to have the conversation he knew he must have.
He’d promised Anna he’d talk with Joseph, and so he would, as soon as he finished welding the broken harrow. He slid his goggles into place and started the torch.
Unfortunately, even that didn’t keep him from thinking of what Anna had said, standing in this very spot.
She’d been upset, that was all. She hadn’t meant it about leaving.
But he was afraid she did, and after hearing her story, he couldn’t bring himself to blame her for anything she’d said. Thinking of her confronting a dangerous addict on her own tied his stomach in knots. He could only thank God she hadn’t been hurt.
Still, she’d lied. She continued to lie to her family by what she didn’t say, and now she’d brought him into the lie, too.
If she let her fear of that man push her into running again, what chance was there that they’d ever see her again?
She’d leave pain behind for all of them, but he couldn’t pretend he was thinking of the others. It was the possibility of his own loss that tortured him. He loved her.
He’d never intended to let that happen. Hadn’t thought it could. But it had. And now, just when he’d begun to believe he could trust himself to love someone, she might disappear.
He switched off the torch and bent to have a look at the harrow. Anna wouldn’t leave. She and Gracie were happy here. He had to believe that.
Satisfied that his work, at least, was under control, he tossed the goggles aside. Enough of these thoughts. He had to talk to Joseph, and the sooner the better.
Joseph looked up at his approach and put down his screwdriver, stretching cautiously. “I’m thinking maybe that’s enough for today. I should go in and make sure Myra’s all right. Did you know Anna went off to see Leah again this afternoon?”
Samuel didn’t miss the critical note in Joseph’s voice. He leaned against the end of the workbench, trying to decide how to respond. Ordinarily Joseph was the most easygoing of men, but his slow recovery had put an edge on his temper.
“It’s gut to see Anna and Leah being friends again, ain’t so?” he said mildly.
Joseph pressed one hand on his ribs as he levered himself to stand. “That’s fine enough, but Anna left Gracie for Myra to mind. She should be helping Myra, not giving her extra work to do.”
Samuel had the sense that Joseph was probably talking out of his own frustration at not being able to do what he should. Still, Samuel couldn’t let a rift start between Joseph and Anna if he could help it.
“Anna went to see Leah today because she’s worried about Myra. As I am. We hope that Leah will be able to help.”
“What do you mean? Worried about what?” Joseph straightened to his full height, supporting himself with a hand on the bench. “Myra’s fine and healthy. The doctor said so.”
Did Joseph really not suspect anything? “Ja, her body is all right. But her mind—”
“There’s nothing wrong with my Myra’s mind. I am her husband. If something was wrong, I would know.”
“Joseph, have you heard the way she talks about the baby? It’s like she didn’t hear anything the doctor said. Anna thinks—”
“Ach, Anna. I love my sister, but she always brings too much drama to everything. You know what she was like when she was a teenager. She’s making a mountain out of a molehill, that’s all.”
“Anna isn’t the person she was when she went away. She’s a grown woman now, and she’s worried about Myra. So am I. It is not gut for Myra to refuse to accept the truth.”
“There is nothing wrong with Myra.” Joseph’s face reddened. “It is a difficult time for her. You should be supporting her, not criticizing her.”
Samuel had gone about this all wrong, it seemed. “I am not criticizing. I just want her to get the help she needs.”
“Myra is fine.” Joseph turned away, probably too fast, because he sucked in a breath and put his hand to his ribs. “Just leave it alone. Both of you leave it alone.”
He walked stiffly out of the shop. Usually Samuel would have given him an arm to help him into the house, but he didn’t think Joseph would appreciate that right now.
Samuel ran a hand through his hair. Anna had trusted him to gain Joseph’s support, and he’d failed.
• • •
Anna checked the chicken potpie that simmered on the stove. Almost done. Maybe supper would improve the atmosphere in the house. Everyone, even Sarah and Gracie, seemed a bit out of sorts since she got home.
Her own thoughts had been chaotic. Leah’s call to her friend at the clinic had resulted in an appointment for Myra tomorrow. Now, somehow, they had to convince her to keep it.
And Anna had stopped at Rosemary’s on the way home. She’d tried to explain as little as possible, but Rosemary had jumped to so many conclusions that maybe it would have been better to tell her everything.
Rosemary had agreed to come right over if Liz called. That was the important thing. But she’d gone further than that. She’d offered Anna a loan to leave now—today, in fact.
Anna ladled potpie, made the traditional Amish way with square, puffy noodles, into Myra’s biggest earthenware bowl. She didn’t want to take Rosemary’s money. She didn’t want to leave now, maybe not ever. But it might be better, at that. If she were to leave, the longer she put it off, the harder it became on everyone, including herself. At least now she knew someone would support her, if it came to that.
She’d told Samuel she wouldn’t leave while Myra needed her. The promise stuck in her heart.
She headed for the door to call everyone for supper, only to find them already coming in from the backyard, Myra holding Sarah’s hand, while Samuel carried a wiggling Gracie.
“Supper is on.”
“Ja, we smelled it.” Samuel’s smile seemed a bit strained.
Anna pulled the highchair close to the table. The bustle of getting everyone settled created a cover for her question to Samuel. “How did it go?” she murmured.
“Not gut.” Concern darkened his eyes.
There wasn’t time for more, but she thought she could guess the rest. Joseph was refusing to face the truth.
She slid into her seat, clasping her hands for t
he silent prayer that began the meal.
Dear Father, help us. Are we doing the right thing? Help Myra.
She sent a covert glance at Gracie, to find her sitting quietly, small hands linked as she concentrated on mimicking the others. Anna’s heart seemed to turn over. Gracie was at home here. How could she think of taking her away?
Joseph nodded to Samuel, who lifted the heavy bowl of potpie and started it around the table. What had happened between the two of them, then? Samuel had said it was not gut.
Anna tried to concentrate on cutting up the puffy square of potpie dough for Gracie, who was already making a fine mess with her applesauce.
“Gracie, not with your fingers.” She put a spoon into her daughter’s hand. “Use the spoon.”
“Sarah would still rather use her fingers than a spoon,” Myra said. “I must work on that before the boppli comes.”
Anna nodded. If Myra was talking naturally about the baby, that was what they wanted, wasn’t it?
Myra ran her hand across her belly, lips curving. “I will feel him kicking soon, ja? I remember from Sarah. That is such a joy, to feel that. Remember the first time you felt that, Joseph? Remember?”
Anna’s heart sank. Myra was talking too fast, her eyes too bright, her cheeks flushed like someone with a fever.
“I’m sure you will,” she said, hoping to soothe her.
Joseph clasped Myra’s hand in his. “I remember. We are all right about this boppli.” He shot a glance at Samuel. “Myra and me, we accept God’s will for this child. We will love and care for it, no matter what.”
“He.” Myra’s voice emphasized the word, and she snatched her hand away. “Our baby is a little boy, I know it. He is our perfect little son.”
“I know you would like a son this time.” Joseph spoke carefully, as if any word might cause hurt.
“It is a boy. I know it. I don’t need any tests to tell me. The boppli feels different this time, and everyone says that’s a sure sign.”
Alarm shivered through Anna. She had to find something to say to defuse the situation. Myra seemed to be teetering on the edge of an explosion.
“We could start a crib quilt for the boppli,” she said. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”
The words, meant to comfort, seemed to have the opposite effect.
“Don’t talk as if I were a child myself.” Myra’s voice rose. “You think there is something wrong. There’s not! Nothing is wrong with my baby!”
They were all stunned into silence, to hear gentle Myra shout at them. Then Sarah, never having heard that tone from her mother, burst into tears. Gracie’s face puckered, and in an instant she was crying, too.
Myra’s chair scraped as she shoved it back. Anna expected her to go to Sarah. Instead, she turned and hurried from the room, shoulders stiff. They heard the thump of her feet on the stairs, followed by the slam of the bedroom door.
Anna leaned over Gracie, trying to comfort her. “Hush, hush, little one. It’s all right.”
Moving stiffly, Joseph lifted Sarah from her chair, cuddling her in his lap. He looked at Samuel, his eyes dark with misery.
“I’m sorry. You tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry.” He glanced at Anna, as if to include her in the apology.
“It’s forgotten,” Samuel said quickly. “Myra is all that’s important now.”
Joseph nodded, his eyes suspiciously bright. “Ja.” He cleared his throat. “Anna, you and Leah, you will help, ja?”
“Of course we will.” Pain clenched her heart to see her big brother look so hurt and bewildered. She would do anything she could to make this better.
And what if she had to leave? What would she do then?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
After nicking himself with the screwdriver twice in ten minutes and coming within an inch of slicing Matthew’s hand, Samuel had decided that he was a danger in the shop. Leaving Matthew to carry on, he’d brought Mr. Bartlett’s new young horse to the ring to work him for a bit. That, at least, he could do without danger to anyone else.
His problem wasn’t hard to figure out. His heart was with Myra at the clinic, and his mind busy with prayers for her.
Be with her now, dear Lord. Open her to hear the counselor’s words.
The two-year-old gelding, apparently sensing his lack of concentration, dropped to a walk. Samuel flicked the lunge whip in his general direction to get him moving again.
After Myra’s outburst at supper last night, he’d thought it would be impossible to get her to the appointment, but it hadn’t turned out that way. Maybe she’d actually frightened herself as much as she had them.
In any event, when Joseph had gone up to the bedroom to talk to her once the children were settled, she’d been so passive that that seemed to frighten him, too. Convinced this was for the best, bolstered by Anna’s conviction, he’d finally gotten her agreement to see the counselor.
This morning she’d clung to Anna, so it had been decided that Anna would go with Joseph and Myra while Leah stayed with the children. Samuel didn’t doubt that Leah had spent the time praying, just as he had.
When he spotted the car turning into the lane, he slowed the horse, bringing him in smaller and smaller circles until the animal stood next to him. He stroked the strong neck, murmuring quietly for a few minutes before turning the colt into the adjacent pasture.
Common sense told him that they could hardly expect a miracle from one session. Even so, he wanted to rush into the house, needing assurance that his little sister was better.
He contented himself with strolling toward the back porch, wondering whether it would be too obvious if he went inside for a drink of water. Maybe so. Instead he used the pump by the porch, lingering over filling the tin cup, pushing his straw hat back on his head, drinking. He was about ready to repeat the process when Anna came out of the house.
He waited until she neared him, reading the tension in the fine lines around her eyes. “How did it go?”
“Not here.”
Anna took a quick glance around. She nodded toward the grape arbor and led him quickly to the slight privacy it provided. Then she turned toward him, and what she saw in his face must have telegraphed how worried he was.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s nothing bad. The counselor was very encouraging.”
“But you’re still concerned.” He could read her feelings so easily, even as relief flooded through him at the counselor’s confidence.
“I’m just not sure.” She bit her lip for an instant. “Myra was so quiet when she came out of the office. I thought— I hoped and prayed we’d see . . . well, some sign that she’s coming to grips with the situation.” Anna looked up at his face. “I pushed this, I know. Have we done the right thing? What if . . .”
“Now stop.” He took hold of her arms, feeling the tension in her. “Anna, you must not think that way. You saw how Myra was last night. You know we had to make this decision for her, out of love.”
“It’s so difficult. I keep thinking of Jannie, of how I questioned myself every day. Was I doing the right thing for her? I’d never been responsible for anyone before. Never wanted to, never thought I could be.”
Her uncertainty took hold of Samuel’s heart and squeezed. “Was that why you ran away from us?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She shook her head. “It didn’t work, if that was why. I took responsibility for Jannie and then Gracie. And now Myra.” Her voice trembled. “What if I’m wrong?”
“I told you. You’re not wrong.” He drew her closer, uncertain if this was what she needed, but longing to comfort her.
With a sigh, Anna leaned against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. Comforting, he told himself. That’s all she needs right now.
“This time you’re not alone.” He said the words softly, his breath stirring the hair
at her temples. “We’re all taking responsibility for our Myra. We all love her, and the boppli.”
Anna nodded, and he felt the movement. His heart was so full it seemed it would burst out of his chest. He longed to tell her what he felt, but this . . . this was like walking on ice. The smallest misstep could send him plunging to the depths.
So he stood, holding her, sensing the tension ebb slowly from her body. Loving her.
How foolish he had been, to think he couldn’t love anyone for fear he was like his father. When true love came, it wiped away every doubt. If he told her . . .
No, not now. Not when she was so worried. He rested his cheek against her hair and was content.
“Anna?” Leah’s voice accompanied the slam of the screen door. “Are you out here?”
Anna pulled back, wiping her face with her palms. “I’m here.” She walked quickly out of the arbor, and Samuel followed.
Leah stood at the bottom of the porch steps, looking a little flushed when she saw them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”
“I was just filling Samuel in on what happened,” Anna said quietly.
“Gut.” If Leah thought anything else, she was wise enough not to say. “I’m heading home now. I’ll stop over sometime tomorrow.”
“That would be a help,” Samuel said. “You understand this better than we do.”
Leah shook her head. “You’re both doing fine.” She patted his hand, and then seemed to realize that she was holding an envelope. “I nearly forgot. Matthew brought the mail in. There was a letter for you.” She handed the envelope to Anna and hugged her. “Don’t worry too much, the pair of you. Myra will be well.”
Anna gave her a quick squeeze. “Denke, Leah. Da Herr sie mit du.”
May God be with you. It was the first time Samuel had heard Anna use the loving response since her return. Leah’s eyes sparkled, and she walked quickly toward the buggy as Matthew drove it up.
Anna stood for a moment, holding the envelope in her hand. She looked a bit frightened. “Samuel, it is from Aaron Esch. The family . . .”
