“What happened on the night she left you?”
“I forgot our anniversary. I didn’t know she’d made this fancy meal to surprise me, and I went fishing.”
“Maybe she thought you loved fishing more than you love her.”
Jethro wanted to protest until he thought about his four-hundred-dollar fishing pole sitting in its place of honor in the spare bedroom. On the night of their anniversary, he had barely given Mary Anne a second thought.
Felty squinted, as if he were thinking wonderful hard. “Would you have appreciated the meal if you had stayed home?”
Jethro took a deep breath as something heavy pressed down on his chest. “Probably not. All that work, all that time she spent was so unnecessary. She didn’t have to make fancy dinners to show me she loved me. It was a waste of money, and I was perfectly satisfied with a plate of chow chow and grilled fish. She carved her radishes into rose shapes. She used to buy expensive cheese and strange fruits until I told her not to.”
“You told her not to?” Felty poured the kaffee grounds into the pot.
“She was making too much work for herself, especially after she lost the buplie. She was so sad all the time. I did everything I could think of to make her forget. I painted over the farm animals she’d drawn on the nursery wall. I put the homemade baby quilts away so she wouldn’t be reminded. I finally had to tell her to quit crying all the time.”
Felty widened his eyes as if Jethro had taken a match and set his own house on fire. “You told her to stop crying?”
Once again, he felt the need to justify himself. “It was like a funeral in here every day. I hated to see her cry, and I wanted her to get on with her life. It was for her own good.”
Felty’s lips twitched, whether in amusement or exasperation, Jethro couldn’t tell. “You’ve said that three times today already.”
The air drained from his lungs. He stuffed the fish-shaped hot pads back into the drawer and sat down at the table, in a different chair this time. After all, he had eight to choose from. He’d paid a high price for having all eight of his chairs back.
Felty poured himself and Jethro a cup of kaffee, and set both cups on the table. It smelled like heaven itself. Felty opened the mysterious cardboard box, pulled out two jelly-filled doughnuts, and placed them in front of Jethro. “Two for a dollar at the market today,” he said. “Anna said you like this kind.”
Jethro’s stomach growled at the bounty before him. He would have eaten the cardboard box if Felty had spread frosting on it. He took a sip of kaffee and then a gulp. He didn’t care that it burned his tongue. It was the best thing he’d ever tasted. Where had Felty learned to make kaffee? For sure and certain Anna hadn’t taught him.
Felty sat down and picked up his cup. “Everything you’ve done is for Mary Anne’s own good, but maybe nothing you’ve done has been good for her. She certainly doesn’t think it’s because you love her—and I can’t say I blame her. I’m not convinced. It’s not hard to see how her love faded, and then even her sense of duty wasn’t enough to keep her here. She probably felt guilty for not loving you anymore, and that was one of the reasons she moved out.”
“What can I do to get her to come back? I’ll do anything. I’ll buy her all the cheese in Wisconsin if I have to.”
“Don’t try to get her back. Just love her.”
“I do love her.”
Felty shook his head. “You’re not usually this thick, Jethro. Christ gave His life for the church. If you’re not willing to dedicate your life to Mary Anne’s happiness, then all the cheese in Wisconsin won’t be near enough.”
“But what about my happiness? Shouldn’t Mary Anne want the same for me?”
“If you truly love her, then hers is the only happiness you should care about. That means your embarrassment doesn’t matter, or your anger. To be sure, she has hurt your feelings. Can you forgive her and love her anyway, because if you can’t, there’s no reason to go to all that trouble? Winning her love will be near impossible as it is. You’re even further behind than when you first met her. Right now, she’s willing to leave the church to be rid of you.”
Not even the steaming cup of rich, black kaffee and a raspberry-filled doughnut could make Jethro feel better. In a thousand different ways, he’d hurt Mary Anne deeply. Even the strength of his love might not be enough.
Jethro set his cup on the table with a little too much force. A drop of kaffee jumped out of the cup and landed on his hand. He wouldn’t lose Mary Anne. He’d been foolish and cruel, trying to force her instead of persuade her, but he wouldn’t be so blind again. If he knew anything as a fisherman, he knew how to be patient, even if he hadn’t shown much patience in the last two weeks.
No matter how long it took, he would win her back. He couldn’t imagine life without her. She was beautiful, smart, kind, and creative. She was everything to him.
She was the light of his life.
There would be no happiness left for him if he failed.
Chapter Eleven
Mary Anne crawled into Aden’s two-man tent and tried to press out the lumps in the ground with the heel of her hand. Sleeping in a sleeping bag with only a tarp between her and the ground was a far cry from Jethro’s nice cot in the eight-man tent. It was an even farther cry from her own bed in her nice, warm house not two hundred feet away. No matter how adamantly she had protested that she would be fine camping for the rest of her life, she truly didn’t know how long she would last out here. Sleeping was almost impossible already, but adding the smells of an outhouse, a persistent owl, frost on the ground in the mornings, and the noises of her cousins’ young children into the mix, and she might never sleep again.
Lia and her children were sleeping in the tent Mary Anne had originally borrowed from Moses, which was only fair. They needed the space. Mammi and Dawdi slept in the hammock Sarah Beachy had given them, although that couldn’t last long. There was no shelter from the rain, and it was so cold out tonight, one of them might suffocate under that pile of blankets they were covered in. The only tent left for Mary Anne was Aden’s Swift-n-Snug tent that Mammi and Dawdi had been using. At least it was shelter, but she would miss the space for her mobiles and her sewing machine.
She still had no idea what she was going to do about her sewing machine. She needed it something wonderful, and Jethro didn’t seem likely to budge, especially after the way she’d broken down in front of him. He could sense he was getting to her. At this point, he was no doubt determined to wait her out. The hurt and frustration felt like a raw wound on her skin. It had been a long, trying day, and she was too exhausted to solve the problem of her sewing machine or the toilet or her camping cousins tonight. Things always looked better after a gute night’s sleep. Too bad she wasn’t going to get one.
Mammi and Dawdi had already gone to bed in their deluxe double hammock. For tonight, they seemed comfortable enough. Mary Anne could already hear Dawdi snoring.
Lily had brought her three little ones and the dog. Even though Lily’s husband, Aden, had been very helpful in setting up the camp, Lily had told him to go home and sleep in the house. Lily felt very strongly that this “protest,” as she called it, was just for the fraaen, even though Dawdi had been here for almost two weeks and Noah was staying with Mandy in her tent. Cousin Sarah had set up a tent right next to Lily’s, and two of Sarah’s boys were sleeping at the edge of the clearing in their sleeping bags under the stars. Mary Anne didn’t think they knew anything about solidarity. They just liked an excuse to camp.
Mary Anne wished she liked to camp. It would have made things so much more pleasant. But maybe it was better that camping was hard. The difficulty made it plain to Jethro how badly she wanted to live by herself. She couldn’t give up, especially now that all these relatives were living in the woods with her. Her lips curled involuntarily. She had moved out of the house, but for sure and certain she wasn’t living by herself.
It was shaping up to be a chilly night. She could see her breath in
the air. Gute thing Aden’s sleeping bag was warm to thirty degrees below zero. She probably wouldn’t freeze to death, even on the cold ground.
“Mary Anne,” someone whispered behind her.
She backed out of her tent on her hands and knees and stood up, only to come face-to-face with the last person in the world she wanted to see. It was dark, but he held a bright flashlight pointed at the ground, and Mary Anne could see him well enough. Just being near Jethro made her want to cry all over again, but her nose got stuffy when she cried right before bed and made it hard to sleep. “What do you want, Jethro?”
He lowered his eyes and stared at the circle of light made by the flashlight on the ground. “I’m sorry, Mary Anne.”
“For what?” He certainly wasn’t there to apologize for anything that mattered.
“I’m sorry I took down your camp. It was mean, plain and simple.”
“Jah. It was.”
“I’m sorry I painted over your quilt square and threw away your mobiles. I’m sorry for everything.”
In the dark, she couldn’t tell if he was being honest or just trying another trick to get her to come home. It was probably a trick, and she didn’t know how to respond. “I’m sorry too.”
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
She didn’t believe it, but he sounded sincere enough to plant a seed of doubt in her mind. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It’s the only thing that matters.” He reached out as if to take her hand but suddenly pulled back. Gute. He knew better than that.
“Why are you out here? It’s late, and most everyone is already asleep.”
“I hate to think . . . I know how you feel about camping, and I hate to think of you sleeping out here by yourself. Please go in the house, and I’ll sleep out here in the tent.”
Mary Anne swallowed the lump in her throat. She couldn’t let the deep richness of his voice get to her. She had always found it irresistible. “You’ll say anything to get me back into the house.” It wasn’t very nice to accuse him of lying, but he had to know she didn’t trust him.
“This isn’t a trick. You don’t want to live with me, so let me live in the tent. You deserve a roof over your head and a gute, sturdy bed.”
Mary Anne shook her head. She didn’t believe he’d had a change of heart in less than four hours, and she’d be foolish to listen to him, no matter how much she missed her bed. “My cousins wouldn’t like it if they woke up in the morning to find I’d abandoned them.”
He closed his eyes, as if overwhelmed by some unbearable pain. “I’m sorry, Mary Anne. I’m sorry I hurt you. No matter what you decide, I’m going to be sleeping out here from now on.”
She tried to ignore the hitch in her breath. “I don’t want that.”
“No husband with a decent bone in his body would let his fraa sleep in a tent while he was warm and comfortable inside. I’ve unlocked the barn, so everyone can use the bathroom. And everyone is welcome to use the bathroom in the house too.”
She reminded herself that he was only trying to trick her and hardened her heart. “I moved out here to get away from you, Jethro. I don’t want you closer.”
If what she said hurt him, he didn’t show it. “I’ll set up out by the ditch. It’s farther away than the house.”
She wanted to argue but didn’t quite know how to contradict a man who claimed he was moving into a tent because he loved his fraa.
Jethro shined his flashlight on a light green canvas bag sitting on the ground a few feet away—his tent, the one Mary Anne had painted with butterflies. “Will you at least sleep in the bigger tent? I brought out the cot and a sleeping bag and that soft blanket you like. It won’t take but ten minutes to set up.”
The bigger tent was a great temptation. Great indeed. “I . . . I don’t know if I should.”
He tilted his head to study her face and cracked a smile. “Your cousins won’t think less of you for taking the bigger tent. You need room for the cot and the sewing machine.”
The sewing machine? Surely he didn’t mean to give it back. Why was Jethro being so nice all of a sudden, and how could she resist the lure of a bigger tent? Still, she hesitated.
“If you’re worried that you’ll be betraying unhappy fraaen all over the world, let me put your mind at ease. They’d say you’re smart to make your husband sleep in that puny thing. It looks very uncomfortable.”
Mary Anne bit down hard on her tongue to keep from grinning. Jethro used to be able to make her laugh like no one else could, but she wouldn’t be fooled by his easy charm. He wanted her to move back into the house. It seemed he was just going about it in a new way. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll take the big tent.”
Even in the dark, his smile lit up his face. He put the flashlight down on the ground, pointing it in the direction of the canvas bag. “I’ll set it up right over here a little closer to the barn, so you won’t have to hike so far to the bathroom.”
Even though she was fully aware of what he was doing, she couldn’t help but be grateful to him for bringing back her tent. She so loved the butterflies painted on it, and that cot was wonderful comfortable.
Jethro pulled a tarp from the canvas bag, found a flat, smooth piece of ground close to the barn, and spread the tarp over it. Then he tugged the tent from the bag and laid it out on top of the tarp. Even though he’d taken down her tent without her permission, she admired how neatly he’d folded it. Jethro was very particular about his things. He’d never been one of those husbands who left his socks in the living room or made a mess at the dinner table. It was one of the few things she still liked about him.
Mary Anne bent over and unfolded one side of the tent so Jethro could thread the poles through the top. She extended one of the support poles and put it into place, then lifted and secured it when Jethro did the same on his side. Putting up a tent went a lot faster when you knew how to do it and when you had a little help.
Jethro brushed off his hands and smiled at her. “I’ve got the cot right here, and the sleeping bag. And the lantern.” He took a couple of steps toward the house then turned back. “Is there anything else you need? I can bring the other things back in the morning, but it’s dark and I don’t want to wake everybody up.”
“Other things?”
“The bookshelf, the food, the pans and utensils. The bench you were working on is sitting in the spare bedroom. Do you want me to bring out the quilt? There’s already another one under the canopy.”
“It’s for Sarah’s new grandbaby. That won’t take long to finish. Mandy and I will come get the quilt and frames in the morning, if that’s all right with you.”
He practically jumped to give his consent. “Of course it’s all right. You don’t have to ask my permission. It’s your house too, and you should come in anytime you want. I won’t lock it again.” He lowered his eyes as if he was embarrassed he’d locked it in the first place. Maybe he recognized how unreasonable he’d been.
Or maybe he was trying to fool her into thinking he’d had a change of heart. She’d be wise to be on her guard.
“I’ll bring your sewing machine too, unless you want to just keep it in the house and use it there. It would stay dry.”
She wasn’t about to let him talk her into anything, even something sensible. “I’d like it in my tent, please. But don’t bother. I can move it.”
“It’s heavy. I’ll move it. It wonders me how you got it out here the first time.”
She curled one side of her mouth. “There was a lot of grunting involved.”
“You must have really been desperate.” He lost his smile as soon as he said it. She had been desperate—desperate and angry and unhappy—and he knew it. He cleared his throat and jabbed his thumb in the direction of the house. “I’ll set up the cot and then move my tent.”
He picked up the flashlight, and her gaze followed the beam of light to the edge of the woods where the cot, sleeping bag, and a pillow sat in a pile on the grass. She drew her brows together until h
er forehead ached. Jethro was harder to resist when he was nice, but he was still Jethro and she still wanted to live alone. She sighed. It was plain he still held out hope for their marriage. Why else would he give her sewing machine back?
She’d have to set him straight or his hopes would soar like an unstaked tent on the wind. Unfortunately, if she set him straight, she’d never see her sewing machine again.
What was she to do?
It took Jethro five minutes to set up the cot where it had taken Mary Anne almost half an hour. She could paint and draw and quilt, but she couldn’t fix a toilet or build a storage shed. Jethro could fix anything. It was a skill that came in handy when you had to set up a tent and a cot in the dark.
Mary Anne watched from outside the tent as Jethro turned on the lamp, situated the cot, and spread Mary Anne’s sleeping bag on top of it. He laid their fuzzy blanket over the top of the sleeping bag and set her pillow at the head of her new bed. Was she imagining things, or did his hand linger on her pillow a second too long? Ach. She wasn’t going to let him do that. His hopes were too high. She blew a frustrated puff of air from between her lips. She was never going to get her sewing machine back.
When Jethro ducked out of the tent, she squared her shoulders and tried to stand taller. “Jethro, if you’re being nice because you want to convince me to move back in, it’s not going to work. I don’t want you to go to all this trouble and then be upset when I don’t do what you want.”
His hesitation told her all she needed to know. That sewing machine was as good as lost. “Mary Anne.” He ran his hand across his forehead, as if trying to wipe away the anger that was surely bubbling just below the surface of his pleasant expression. “I won’t deny I want you to come back. I love you, and I don’t want to live without you.”
Something heavy like guilt pressed down on her chest. She wished he wouldn’t say that. It sounded like he meant it, and she hated the thought of hurting his feelings.
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