He shrugged, obviously preferring to act like her gaze wasn’t affecting him as much as it was. “How could you know?”
“I couldn’t. Because you didn’t tell me.” She didn’t even try to hide her irritation.
“What would it matter? It isn’t like you could make them go away.”
But it did matter to her. She wanted him to have someone in his life who understood what he’d been through. “I would have liked to have known. After all, you are my husband.” Before she thought the better of it, she said, “Could ya turn around? I would like to see your back.”
“Sarah—”
“Please. I just want to know, Daniel. I want to know how badly you were injured.”
The glare he shot her told Sarah everything she ever needed to know about what he thought of her request. But without a word, he turned.
She’d never been so glad that God had not given man eyes in the back of his head. Because Daniel was just as terribly scarred on his back. And, she realized, there were other raised marks under his scars. Marks on the parts of his skin that were almost smooth. Marks that had been there for a very long time.
Ones that she couldn’t recall ever feeling, even when she’d hugged him tight.
“Daniel, someone hurt you before that fire,” she said. “Who made those marks on your back?”
He turned in a flash. Reached for his shirt, then frowned as he realized it was soaking wet. “Sarah, I’d like to finish washing now.”
“I don’t understand why you’ve been washing outside like this.”
“You knew I have been bathing out here.”
“Jah, but you’ve always washed up after I’ve gone to bed. Sometimes I’ve heard you pumping water and heating it. I, um, had thought that you were washing in the kitchen like I do.”
“I don’t mind washing outside. I’m used to it.”
“Is that how you had to bathe when you served in the infantry army?”
His expression turned rueful. “We didn’t get too much time to bathe, Sarah. Besides, half the time we didn’t have enough water for things like that.”
“How did you get those marks on your back?”
“I told you,” he said with an exaggerated patience. “There was an explosion just outside our tent.”
She hated to push it, but she needed to know. “Nee. I mean, before. How did you get the raised marks under the burns? They look like scars from a whip.”
An expression that was as stark and bright as fresh pain crossed his features before he stared hard at her. “That is none of your business.”
She knew he’d never mentioned them. But of course, Daniel had always visited her bed in the dark of the night and had left his nightshirt on. Never had she had an occasion to see his back unclothed.
Scrambling for a reason, she asked, “Did your father do that to you? If he did, I’m mighty surprised. He seemed like such—”
“I don’t want to talk about my back,” he interrupted. “Ever.”
His words entered her head, but for the life of her, she couldn’t resist saying all the things that he most likely didn’t want to hear. “Would you like me to ask the midwife if she has any more salve on hand?”
“Midwife?” He scowled. “Sarah, what in the world are you talking about?”
“Do you not remember the widow Frances? She’s the midwife, but the Lord gave her many healing talents, too. She has some salve that eases scars and the pain from scars.”
The unblemished side of his lip rose a fraction. “I’m sorry, but no salve is going to help my looks.”
“That wasn’t what I meant. I meant it might ease your pain.”
“My pain isn’t unbearable.”
But she remembered that first morning, he’d told her the scars did pain him.
He was hurting.
Though he’d stepped away from her, she walked a little closer. Forced herself to ignore the way his muscles tensed, as if he was preparing himself for her worst.
Hating his reaction, hating the reticence in his movements, she measured each word. Not wanting to frighten him, but not wanting anything in her heart to go unsaid. “Daniel, when you were gone, I prayed for your safety. I prayed that you would come home to our church district. I worried for you.”
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue, even though each word was harder to admit than the next. “When we received word that you had died, I cried for you. And I prayed for your soul. Never did I realize that you were injured and alone.”
“I know this. Thinking I was dead is not your fault. I’ve never blamed you for believing what everyone thought to be true. And to be honest? Well, it almost was true. I did almost die.”
“Nee, let me finish.” She took a deep breath. “Daniel, when you came home, when you showed up here, I was so surprised.”
“I believe you were in a state of shock,” he murmured.
“I was so surprised, and so confused, I don’t believe I’ve ever truly come to terms with how badly you must have suffered. I am sorry for that.”
“There is no need to apologize, Sarah. I am fine.” With an impatient swipe of his wet hair, he said, “Now, could you at least tell me why you came out here in the first place?”
“Oh! I was, uh, wondering if I could measure you for a new shirt.” Goodness, but that seemed like a lifetime ago.
“My shirts are fine. I mean, when they’re dry . . .”
“I think they might be a little small. It’s obvious that you grew a bit stronger and taller while you were a soldier.”
“What do you need me to do for this measuring?”
“Nothing too difficult.” She held up a small length of yarn. “All you have to do is stand still while I wrap a piece of yarn around you. I need to get your new size.”
Something in his eyes shuttered. “I don’t think so.”
“Whyever not?”
This time, she could have sworn a light blush stained his cheeks. “Don’t make me say it.”
“Say what?” She was truly confused.
“That it isn’t a good idea for you to touch me.”
“I won’t hurt your scars, Daniel. I promise, my touch would be light.”
“I am sure it would. But I am not ready for that. My skin . . . it isn’t the same.”
He was talking in circles! “But—”
“Please, Sarah. Now, is the shirt you were working on in the kitchen?”
“Jah. But that’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’s too small.”
“It will be fine. Stay here and let me put it on.”
“All right, Daniel.”
He paused before striding past her into the house. More confused than ever, she fished the shirt out of the water barrel and walked out to the line to pin it up.
ONLY WHEN HE was behind the closed kitchen door did John feel like he could finally exhale. Never had a conversation so threatened to tie him in knots.
He’d felt like he’d been playing mental hopscotch with Sarah, deflecting her innocent questions with innocuous answers. Worse, he doubted that she had believed everything he said.
Once more, he knew he’d hurt her feelings with his refusal to let her measure him for shirts. But not only did he fear that he’d enjoy her tender touch too much, he also felt too raw inside. Too haunted by memories that had nothing to do with pretending to be Amish or reliving the first harrowing days after regaining consciousness in the field hospital.
It had much more to do with being an orphan given to a farmer and his family to be used as nothing more than an indentured servant. Supposedly, he’d been there to work for food and shelter, but that was hardly his life. He’d ended up being much less of a child and much more of a whipping post for an angry, bitter man with little money and even less faith in anything good in the world.
It had been a long time since he’d let himself remember those days, the feel of the cane snapping across his shoulder blades for yet another imagined sin.
He hated that with on
e small question, Sarah had brought all his carefully buried memories back to life. In seconds, his pain and shame had threatened to suffocate him. His feelings of helplessness had consumed him.
It all reminded him that he was truly nothing like her husband had ever been. Though John had never liked Daniel Ropp enough to truly call him a friend, Daniel had been a man of faith.
In addition, he’d been everything John was not. A landowner. A husband and a farmer. He’d even believed in the Union’s desire to end slavery so much that he’d gone against the tenets of his religion in order to support that cause.
John, on the other hand, had been an orphan with little self-esteem and even less in his pockets. Though he’d known enough about being owned by others to fight for the end of slavery, he’d also had far more selfish reasons to fight. For him, the war had been an opportunity to make something of himself.
And for a short time, he had gained other men’s respect. He’d stopped being only the sum of his deficiencies. For a little while, he’d suddenly become more.
And now? Now he was even less than he’d ever been.
Fingering the soft cotton on his skin, he sighed. Here, even now, he was wearing another man’s hand-me-down shirt. No wonder it didn’t fit him well. It was very likely that it never would.
THEIR QUARREL HAD been a good thing, Sarah decided as she kneaded bread one morning a few days later. Something had happened on that afternoon, had made them on more even ground. Perhaps seeing Daniel’s weaknesses had enabled her to not shy away from her own quite so much.
“Or, perhaps, at last accept my weaknesses?” she mused as she sprinkled more flour on the countertop and pressed her palms into the dough.
Yes, that was a better descriptor. She had begun to accept herself, and consequently, she’d begun to accept their shifting relationship.
She’d stopped jumping every time he entered the room. She’d stopped being afraid to voice an opinion, even if it was about the weather. Once or twice, they’d shared a smile.
And just the day before, when they’d spied a pair of deer near the yard, they’d both been transfixed by their beauty. Only after the deer had gotten spooked and darted into the clearing did they both remember that he should have been reaching for his rifle instead of her company.
It was moments like these that made her realize how much of her newfound peace had to do with her husband’s calm and careful demeanor. In many ways, he treated her like a frightened doe in the forest. His movements around her were slow and sure. His expression was continually steady and relaxed.
Because of that, she was able to spend more time with him without fear. Therefore, she had begun to notice some things about her husband that she’d never noticed before.
One was that he had now become both an early riser and a night owl. Unlike their first year of marriage together, her husband now seemed to need only the smallest amount of sleep, barely four or five hours. It seemed he was always up, either working or gazing out into a distance only he seemed able to see or recognize.
What was even more surprising was his agreeable disposition. The Daniel she’d married had been a constant mixture of moods, most of which changed and ebbed hour by hour, if not minute by minute. She’d never known what would set him off, or what would cause him to relax.
Far easier to handle, but no less confusing, were his new eating habits. Unlike before, he ate anything and everything. The Daniel she’d known had looked for flaws in almost everything she’d made. Little was ever good enough. Rarely was anything better than that.
In the days since he returned, however, Daniel had a ravenous appetite. He seemed to look forward to each meal, and would gaze at each dish as if it were something special. He took pains to let her know his appreciation, too. He would smile softly whenever he complimented a meal. Her inability to accept his thanks seemed to amuse him to no end.
For some strange reason, he no longer seemed to view all their blessings as gifts from the Lord. Instead, he seemed intent to praise her efforts. He also took much pleasure in an easy chore. Every time she was tempted to ask him about that, an old memory would surface, one that was horrific and dark. And she couldn’t bear to sully their current life with things he seemed to have forgotten.
Though she probably should have, she mused as she carefully placed the dough inside the prepared pan.
Only a changed man would waste so much time doting on his wife. Or tease her so much. Or stare at her like she was someone new and previously undiscovered. Every time she caught one of his looks, he’d hold it a little longer. Making her blush. Making her fumble for the right response.
But of course, whenever she tried to do that, he would laugh, as if she’d just told a particularly funny joke. Sarah couldn’t remember the last time she’d blushed so much.
But all those differences paled next to the greatest change. Simply put, Daniel had chosen not to return to her bed. From the first, he’d chosen to sleep on the sofa in the main room.
At first she’d been relieved.
Then, curious. He’d merely brushed aside her questions, blaming his preference on the night terrors he now suffered from. He claimed he didn’t want to disturb or frighten her.
The idea that he cared about her feelings was just as disturbing. From the eve of their wedding day, her husband had been intent on having a son. Few nights had ever passed without him visiting her bed.
There had been little affection and even less tenderness.
These two things together should have been enough to cause her to question him.
Surely even guns and weapons and bayonets didn’t change a person’s true nature? His sleeping habits? His need to have a family? Those seemed like something inherent.
But every time it was on the tip of her tongue to question him, to ask Daniel about how he needed so little sleep now, or why he now thought all food was delicious, she bit her lip. Preservation kicked in.
She was sure she was on the verge of opening a closed box full of hate and anger.
The memories were too strong to forget. And too painful to relive.
After all, if he’d changed once, he would surely change again.
But when he entered the kitchen with an egg in his hand and a bright smile on his face, she realized just how complete his transformation was. He looked handsome and happy and eager to see her.
So much so that it was almost impossible to have any doubts about a happy future with him.
She couldn’t help but tease him a little. “And what do you have there, Daniel?”
“One perfect egg. Marjorie even gave it up without pecking my hand.”
“Hens do lay eggs. It’s what they’re supposed to do.”
“She hasn’t been doing much of anything lately.”
“That is true.” She chuckled. “Marjorie is a contrary sort of chicken, I guess. I feel lucky we get any eggs at all.”
“Well, we’ll be blessed with her offerings today,” he said with a smile. “We shall have an egg for breakfast.” He handed it to her. “Could you fry it up, Sarah?”
“I will, but this will be yours, of course. Not mine.”
“We’ll share it. I want to share it with you.” He paused, then reached out with the pad of his thumb and glided it along her cheek.
“Daniel?”
He held up his thumb. “You had a bit of flour on your cheek. It’s gone now.”
Her lips parted but she couldn’t think of another word to say. His gaze felt too strong. Too direct. For a long moment, she stared at him, her heartbeat accelerating.
And she realized, with some alarm, that it was not fear making her pulse race. It was something new. Something different. Something other women had whispered about.
And until that very moment, something she’d always imagined had been a lie.
Six
The Search
JOHN HAD NOW been in Holmes County—and in Sarah Ropp’s life—for three weeks. During this time, he’d learned a lot more about
Daniel Ropp, and about the Amish way of life Daniel had been so proud of.
As first, fitting into the Plain lifestyle had felt as tricky and dangerous as shaving for the very first time. But then, little by little, many things had become easier.
He’d gotten used to living in a closed community. He’d begun to appreciate the Amish men’s humor and gentle teasing. And the acknowledgment that all gifts came from the Lord Himself.
That notion had never been one that Daniel had discussed much. John now wondered if it was because Daniel had feared it would never be understood by an outsider . . . or that Daniel hadn’t necessarily believed it.
John’s acceptance of such faith came as a surprise to himself. He now recognized the Lord’s hand in so many things—from his meeting Daniel, to the fact that they looked much alike, to the friendship that was growing between himself and Sarah. He’d certainly never intended to become connected to Sarah or her land or her small Amish community. From the start, all he’d wanted to do was find the money that Daniel had bragged about hiding and begin his own life.
But his growing feelings for Sarah made him wonder if he could ever simply walk away from her. Singlehandedly, she’d made him believe in love and tenderness—two things he’d certainly never experienced growing up. He found himself eager for her smiles—and any opportunity to take care of her.
To his shame, he’d also become a skilled liar. Though he’d never had much to speak of, he’d imagined he possessed a certain type of dignity, or at least a character that he could be proud of.
That was no longer the case. As each day passed, he’d found himself further drawn into Daniel Ropp’s life, his goals, and his dreams. The downward cycle was difficult. The more evidence he discovered about Daniel’s life and his terrible treatment of his wife, the more John yearned to make amends. How that would help her in the end, he wasn’t exactly sure.
Now, as the sun set in the horizon, he sat on the front steps of their rickety front porch and attempted to plan his next move.
“Ah, you’re still here,” Sarah said as she walked out to the porch to join him. “You’ve been so quiet, I wasna sure.”
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