It turned out that marriage didn’t solve all those problems after all, and a girl’s heart didn’t let go of her lover quite so easily as they’d all anticipated.
“Jeb!” Stephen said, coming down the hall toward him.
“Your business with me is through,” Jeb said, turning to face the older man. “I’m not a boy anymore. You told me to marry Katie, and I did. I tried to love her. I tried to be good to her, and God knows I tried to save her from that fire. What more do you want from me?”
“Don’t use the name of God—”
“Like you did, you mean?” Jeb asked with a bitter smile. “I seem to remember you telling me exactly what God wanted. He wanted marriages that produced children. He wanted Amish to stay Amish. He wanted us to protect the women in our midst with our manly, fortifying presence. Something like that.”
Stephen’s face paled. “God puts the responsibility on a man’s shoulders—”
“To force a wedding?” Jeb shook his head. “If Katie had any choice in the matter, if anyone had actually listened to her—including me, might I add—she’d probably still be alive.”
“Kindness goes a long way with a woman,” Stephen said, lowering his voice. “That’s all I’m trying to say. In this marriage—to Leah. Gentleness. Patience. The fruits of the spirit. They go a long way in creating a happy home.”
Stephen was worried about Leah now. He could see it in the older man’s eyes—the trepidation. He wasn’t sure what Jeb had become after all these years, and perhaps looking him in the face hadn’t relieved any of those worries. But whatever Jeb had become was because of this community, and Stephen in particular.
“And you think I was some kind of monster in my first marriage, do you?” Jeb asked. “Is that it? You think behind closed doors I was some kind of raging beast?”
“I didn’t say that. But—”
“Maybe I wanted too much?” Jeb went on bitterly. “You think it was too much to want my own wife to love me?”
“This marriage with Leah can be different,” Stephen said slowly. “You can make better choices—”
“It already is different!” Jeb retorted. “And it isn’t about my choices this time. For one, she chose this.” Mostly. At least this time it was circumstances that had pushed her, not the community. “And I know what to expect this time around.”
Stephen didn’t answer. His gaze moved over Jeb’s scarred face and moved down to his gnarled hand. Jeb clenched his hand into a fist, the skin tightening uncomfortably. His hip had started to ache again, and he straightened his leg, trying to push against the pain. Stephen was right—Jeb was no longer the strong, young man to do the community’s dirty work. He was now a scarred hermit ... and perhaps Stephen was wise to be a little nervous about Leah’s choice in a husband. Jeb was no longer any woman’s desire.
“We ruined Katie,” Jeb said quietly. “You and me. And everyone else who went along to make her marry me. Whatever she became ... whatever I became ... that was because of that wedding. All of it.”
“Only the Lord knows why bad things happen—”
“—to good people?” Jeb finished the worn phrase for him. “Do you think I was a good person, marrying a woman who I knew didn’t want to marry me? Do you think you were a good person helping her parents to pressure her into it? So maybe bad things happen to bad people, or maybe bad things just happen, Stephen, because you seem to have escaped the retribution that I’ve suffered.”
From the sitting room, he could hear the sound of several couples playing a game of Uno. There was laughter, a groan as someone had to pick up four cards. Such an ordinary pastime. What was Jeb even doing here? He didn’t belong.
“Leah’s a sweet young woman,” Stephen said quietly. “And I believe she’ll make a good wife to you. I wanted to speak to you, man-to-man, to give you some advice. And I realize now that isn’t welcome. But you chose this wife, Jebadiah. The rest of us had nothing to do with it.”
“Yah, I did.”
“Then as a man who has been married for much longer than you have, let me say one thing. You just have to ... be patient.”
“Patient for what?” Jeb demanded. He wanted to make Stephen say it out loud. Was he talking about their physical relationship? Had news about that already gotten out? He wouldn’t even be surprised if it had. He knew how a tight community like theirs worked.
“Be patient as you wait for the easy times,” Stephen replied. “Be patient for when it feels more natural between you. That takes time.”
Jeb nodded. “I intend to.”
“Good.” Stephen sucked in a deep breath, and he pasted a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s all I wanted to say, really. It’s said. Now—will you play a game?”
“No.” Jeb was tired of playing games. He was tired of pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. He’d pulled away from these people for good reason—they couldn’t be trusted.
“Jeb?”
Leah came into the hallway, a plate of pie in her hands, and both men looked up. She smiled hesitantly. Stephen didn’t say anything, but he headed back toward the kitchen, brushing past Leah as he went. She was a surprisingly welcome sight standing there with that plate in her hands and the fork glinting in the low light. She met his gaze uncertainly.
“I brought you some pie,” Leah said.
“Thank you,” he said gruffly.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“You seemed ... angry,” she said.
“We have some history,” Jeb said. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Should we leave?” she asked.
Yah, they should. And he had no desire to play some silly game, but he would do it after all. Leah wanted her couples’ game night, and she would have it. He’d stand here and eat her blueberry pie, and then he’d sit in that room with the game of Uno and wait out the rest of the evening.
For her.
“No,” he said. “It’s fine. I’ll play Uno.”
Leah handed the plate over to him and he accepted it with a nod.
“Please be nice . . .” she whispered.
“I’m always nice,” he said woodenly. Unless he was unfairly judged by the very community who had broken him. Then he was honest. They thought that by keeping their community intact, they were saving themselves from hellfire. No one seemed to take into account the kind of hell people could live in behind closed doors.
Leah met his gaze hopefully, and he forced a smile. He’d play nice, even if he didn’t want to tonight. She turned and headed back toward the kitchen, looking at him over her shoulder once more before she disappeared again. Jeb stood there with that plate in his hand.
He felt it all coming full circle again—a brand-new marriage based on something other than love, the resentment beginning, the appearances to be maintained. Except this time, instead of the wife being the angry one who was filled with so much rage at the unfairness of the life ahead of her, it was him. Leah was the confused one with the best of intentions. Leah was the one who’d end up broken and confused as to what had happened here, because he knew exactly how it felt to be married to someone this angry.
It was heartbreak.
Chapter Nine
“I’m glad you came,” Rosmanda said later that evening when they stood by the door, getting ready to leave. Leah leaned over to give her friend a hug. Rosmanda’s belly pressed against Leah’s, and she felt a tap as the baby kicked.
Leah shut her eyes against the wave of sadness. She always thought she was prepared for moments like this—steeled against the weight of her own longing. And then something as ordinary and sweet as the tap of a baby’s foot inside his mother’s belly could bring tears to her eyes.
“Oh!” Rosmanda laughed, rubbing her belly. “Did you feel that?”
“I guess I was crowding the little one,” Leah said, but her throat thickened with emotion. “Thank you for having us, Rosie.”
“Anytime,” Rosmand
a said. “You know that.”
There were a few people still playing games at the table—this time it was Pictionary, and the women had joined in, so it was “the girls against the boys.” Most of the food had been eaten, and people had turned to mugs of tea and coffee.
Outside, Jeb sat in the buggy waiting, and when he looked over at her, his expression was steely and grim. She pushed open the screen door and headed out onto the step.
“Good night!” Leah called over her shoulder, and she let the screen door fall shut behind her as she made her way out to the buggy. She lifted her skirt, then pulled herself up. Jeb scooted over a little bit to make room for her, and once she was settled, he flicked the reins and the buggy started off.
The night was warm and the moon hung almost full in the dark sky. As they pulled out of the drive and onto the road, Leah put her hand down onto the seat to keep herself stable as they bumped up onto the pavement. She looked over at Jeb. His jaw was tensed, and his glittery gaze stayed fixed straight ahead.
“That was a nice evening,” she said. Jeb didn’t answer, and she watched him for a moment. “Wasn’t it?”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he replied.
“You’re rather good at Uno,” she said.
She’d slipped into the Uno game later on that evening, and Jeb had beaten them all twice in a row. Admittedly, some of the people got a little testy after that, but then Lydia had won, and things smoothed over again.
“It’s just luck,” Jeb said. “You work with the cards you’re dealt.”
“I suppose,” she agreed. “And it was fun.”
Jeb didn’t answer that, and his gaze stayed locked on the road. The clopping of the horse’s hooves melded together with the soft squeak of one of the buggy’s wheels. She could feel Jeb’s tension emanating from him like heat from a coal.
“Are you angry at me?” she asked.
His gaze softened then, and he looked over at her. “It wasn’t you.”
“Then what?” she asked. “I know you and Stephen had some words, but after that it seemed to be okay. And sure, some people weren’t being good sports about losing—”
“About losing to me,” he countered.
She’d noticed that, too. But people could be difficult sometimes. Being part of a community wasn’t always easy.
“Maybe the next one will be better,” she said. “They’ll be more used to seeing you.” His gaze flickered toward her again, this time more warily. Had that sounded like she’d been talking about his scars? She couldn’t help but look at that puckered skin then, and she felt the heat rise in her face. She was making things worse.
“They’ll also be more used to losing to you,” she added, to qualify it.
“I’m not going to another one of these,” he said.
“Oh, Jeb . . .” She forced out a laugh. “It was one night. I’m sure—”
“I’m serious,” he said, cutting her off. “That was the last one.”
The last time to go to a community event as a couple? Her heart sped up in her chest, and she felt the panic setting in.
“So you’re never going to be sociable again?” she asked incredulously. It seemed ridiculous, except he’d been doing just that for years. “This marriage is supposed to help us socially. That was part of the agreement.”
“I don’t need more awkwardness and confrontation,” he said.
“This marriage was supposed to help me socially,” she amended. He was silent then, and Leah pushed forward. “Jeb, I know it was awkward. I could see that. But this is just the start. We’re the newest couple and people will gossip. But the more they see us, the easier it will get. Then some other young couple will get married, and they’ll be the newest ones and we’ll be considered wise and experienced.”
“Do you know what Stephen said to me?” Jeb asked, his voice low.
“No—”
“He’s afraid for you.” Jeb’s lips twitched as he said the words, and she could feel his disgust at the thought.
“Afraid for me, how?” she asked.
“For your safety. For your happiness. I don’t know exactly. He had counsel for me on being kind.” He flicked the reins again as the horse started to slow.
“I didn’t say anything to them to make them worry, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said.
“You wouldn’t have to,” he said woodenly. “They already think the worst of me.”
“Maybe he didn’t mean it the way it sounded . . .” The words trailed off when he glanced over at her. “They didn’t stop our marriage, did they?” she asked. Because if they were truly so worried about her as to bring it up with her new husband, she thought they would have said something before now. Bringing anything up now seemed more like gossip and less like legitimate worry.
“No, they didn’t do that, to their credit,” he muttered.
And yet Stephen had said something to Jeb . . . She remembered the tender look that passed between Stephen and Miriam. Had the older man only meant it to be advice to a newly married man? Maybe it had been something more innocent than Jeb was assuming.
“I’m not a danger to you,” Jeb added, his voice low. “I’d never hurt you. I’m not what they say. I know I’m not easy to look at anymore, but I’ve got a heart, and I didn’t marry you to make you miserable. I’m not going to hurt you, or . . . or . . . make you unhappy.”
“I think I know that,” she said quietly.
They fell into silence, and Leah scooted a little closer to him along the seat, not quite close enough to touch him, but she could feel the heat of his body. Jeb leaned toward her, his arm pressing against hers as he looked down at her, his gaze softening.
“Thank you for coming tonight, all the same,” she said.
“Yah.” A smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “You’re welcome.”
Suddenly, there was a jolt as the wheel hit a pothole, and the buggy heaved heavily, and she felt her body fling forward. But even as she catapulted, Jeb’s arm shot out and she collided with muscle. His hand clamped down on her leg, and she bounced off him and back into the seat.
“Oh—” she gasped.
“I didn’t see that one,” Jeb said, leaning forward for a better view of the road, but his hand stayed firmly on her upper thigh, as if he’d forgotten where his hand had landed. He was stronger than she’d even guessed he would be—his fingers alone keeping her pinned against the seat, his touch a little too intimate to be comfortable. She put her hand up on his arm, giving him a gentle nudge, and she felt the work-hardened muscle.
“Sorry.” He leaned back against the seat and his arm settled across her body as he looked over at her, his touch lightening. “You okay?”
His reaction had been swift and strong, but also with a strange confidence. She’d never been touched like that before—as if this man had every right to have his hands on her body, no hint of an apology in his dark eyes, with his large hand covering her thigh and his thick arm emanating heat against her body. He smelled close, musky and warm.
Leah nodded. “Yah, I’m okay.”
“Good.” But he didn’t move, and his dark gaze met hers. There was something in the way he was looking at her—something tender yet direct—and when his gaze moved down to her lips, her breath caught.
“You’re beautiful, you know . . .” he breathed.
“Am I?” she whispered.
“Yah.” He smiled ruefully, then pulled his hand off her leg, leaving a handprint of sensation where his fingers had pressed into her, and she felt chilled where his warm arm had pressed against her body. She sucked in a wavering breath.
The horse plodded on, and Leah tried to calm the pattering of her heartbeat. She smoothed her hand over that spot on her leg where his hand had been.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked. “I only meant to catch you.”
“No,” she said. “I just ... If someone saw that—”
His response was a low laugh. “If someone saw that, then what, Leah?”
She realized how silly it was then, because what would they see? A married couple going over a pothole. Nothing more. A husband protecting his wife from the jolt. A compliment given.
“You’re my wife,” he said, and there was something almost possessive in the way he said it, and it made goose bumps rise on her arms.
“Yah. I’m still getting used to that.”
They continued on, silvery moonlight illuminating their way as the buggy rattled over the pavement. Leah stole a look at him, his profile on the undamaged side of his face looking like any other Amish man. His beard was full and thick, dark as mahogany wood with a few gray strands shining silver, and she could see just how handsome he had once been.
And maybe he still was ...
There was something about how she saw him that had changed over the last couple of days. He was large and intimidating still, but he was also kind, and when those muscles were used in her protection . . .
Had he meant what he said—that she was beautiful? A smile tickled the corners of her lips. Was that how he saw her?
It was nice to be married. And maybe he’d soften yet and they’d go to another outing together. There was always hope.
* * *
Jeb shut the door to his bedroom and heaved a sigh. He undid the buttons of his shirt and pulled it off. His bedroom window was propped open with a stick, cool evening air ruffling the curtain as it flowed inside, a welcome relief against his skin. He could hear the chirp of crickets and the croak of a lonely toad somewhere out there in the grass.
He hadn’t meant to touch her, and the protective gesture in the buggy had been one of instinct. But once he’d touched her, he hadn’t wanted to pull away either. He could still remember the softness of her under his hand, her heightened breathing after the surprise of the jolt. But then, she’d run her fingers over his arm . . .
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