“I was,” he interrupted, unable to remain silent about the only thing he was proud of.
“You might even be Amish, though I sincerely doubt you were ever Plain.”
He ached. “Sarah—” Tried to refute her statements.
“You, sir, might have even been a good man. Perhaps you still are, at least in your own, hopelessly twisted way.”
He swallowed.
“But there is one thing you most definitely are not. You are not Daniel Ropp. You are not my husband. I know this to be true to the depths of my soul.”
He was so taken aback he had no recourse but to continue to play dumb. “What has precipitated this?”
“I am not answering another question until you answer me. Who are you?” Her voice broke off, at last revealing the extent of her apprehension. “Who are you, really?”
Each of her words had felt like a pinch. Each one had been disappointing but not completely painful. But together? Her small speech had packed a powerful punch. Almost debilitating. Her bravery stripped him bare.
And made him do the very thing he knew to be right. “My name is Jonathan Scott,” he muttered at last.
And this time, when he dared look at her, his heart nearly wept.
Sarah Ropp, his make-believe wife, had turned deathly pale.
Nine
The Apology
AS SHE STARED at him, the expression in her eyes a terrible combination of disbelief and hurt, John wondered if he should simply step away. Surely Sarah needed time and space to come to terms with all that he’d told her. Besides, there really was little he could offer her besides his apology.
And what could a few well-chosen words do, anyway? He could think of no excuse that wasn’t ineffectual, no words that would be anything but inadequate.
He really had done nothing but take a bad situation and make things worse. He saw no way to make things better between them. It was impossible to erase the past.
Yet, when he looked at the way she was holding herself together through pure force of will, the way she looked so devastated and desolate, he knew he couldn’t leave. Stepping back and leaving her alone would be an almost physical impossibility.
Instead, he gave voice to the most inane question in the world. “Are you all right?”
She raised her chin and stared at him as if she’d never seen someone like him. As if he was a beetle crawling across his floor. “Nee,” she murmured.
Which made him feel just a little more despicable.
When she turned from him to lie on her side, wrapping her arms around her middle as if to comfort herself, he knew he must do something.
Feeling grim, John picked up one of the quilts from the edge of her bed, carefully wrapped it around Sarah’s trembling body, then lifted her into his arms. They needed to talk, and doing so in her bedroom would only make matters worse.
She didn’t struggle as he strode from the room.
Actually, Sarah showed almost no response, merely resting her head against his chest. Almost as if she no longer had the will to fight him.
He gritted his teeth as his apprehension grew. Growing up the way he had, he knew next to nothing about women’s delicate constitutions. But he was fairly certain that gently bred women who received terrible frights needed to be tended to with care.
He placed her on the sofa, taking care to cover her more securely, before putting the kettle on in the kitchen. “I’m going to make you some tea,” he called out as he reached for her favorite ceramic mug. “Some peppermint tea. That’s your favorite, right? Then, we’re going to talk.”
She said nothing, only stared at him with wide eyes as he clattered around the room like a bull in a china shop. Somehow he managed to find her peppermint tea leaves. He steeped them in the hot water, then with a small sense of triumph, he brought her a fortifying cup of steaming tea.
After she merely stared at it, he pressed it into her hands. “Sip,” he ordered. Just as if he was dispensing medicine instead of comfort. “This should help you get your bearings again.”
She looked dubious, but did as he bid. After a few more sips, he sat beside her. Close enough to grasp the cup from her hands if it slipped through her fingers, far enough away that he hoped she wouldn’t be concerned.
When she got some color back in her cheeks, Sarah leaned forward and carefully set the mug on the small table in front of them. And, at last, spoke. “Explain yourself.”
Tossing all his prepared scripts out the proverbial window, John rested his elbows on his knees and started talking. Hoping that the Lord would give him the right words to say before she kicked him from her house in the middle of the night.
“Like I said, my name is Jonathan Scott. John to all who know me. And yes, I was a soldier in the war. I was a lieutenant.” Even though that surely meant nothing to her, he let his pride talk. “I started out as just a foot soldier but before long I began rising through the ranks. I . . . I was a good soldier.”
She blinked, seeming to turn over the idea that there was a chance he was better than she’d imagined. “What about everything else, John?”
“I am not Amish. In fact, I know little about your religion. Little about being Plain.”
“And?”
He closed his eyes, prayed for strength, then remembered that he didn’t deserve answers to any prayers. “And, most importantly to you, to us . . . I am not your husband.” Feeling wave after wave of shame wash over him, he continued his explanation, though he assumed it was unnecessary. “I have been deceiving you.”
“Where is Daniel?” Sarah whispered, gripping her mug once again. “Is he truly dead?”
There was no way to make the truth easier to bear. “I am afraid he truly is.”
She closed her eyes. Slumped. He scooted closer to her, worried she was on the verge of collapsing. But she held herself together. She grasped the ends of the quilt more closely around her body, covering herself so completely that only her head and neck remained visible to him.
“What may I do for you?” he asked, feeling suspiciously overcome with inadequacy. After all, what hadn’t he done to her?
The look she cast his way was filled with pure loathing. “I fear you have almost, at long last, rendered me speechless.”
“I realize that this has come as a bit of a shock. I am sure you are overcome.”
“Jah.” With a little tug, she arranged the quilt around her more securely. “Tonight’s events have been quite a shock. You have been a bit of a shock, Jonathan Scott.”
Her voice was so bitter, her expression so desolate, he did the very thing he had earlier hoped to avoid. “Do you wish me to leave? I can be out of here within a few minutes.”
“Nee.”
“Sure?”
“I don’t want you to leave. Not yet.”
“All right. I will leave in the morning.”
She stared at him for what felt like an eternity, but then to his consternation, she stood up, grabbed her flickering candle, and strode to the kitchen. The quilt he’d wrapped so carefully around her—the one she’d just held to herself—lay forgotten on the sofa.
At her mercy, he followed. “I owe you an explanation. But it is late. Perhaps it would be best done in the morning before I take my leave?”
She gripped the edge of her counter. “You are now concerned for my welfare? After everything you have done?”
She was right.
She deserved every explanation, just as he deserved none. It didn’t matter what time in the morning it was or how distraught she seemed to be. Or how shamed he was.
Nothing mattered anymore but the truth. And so, because he truly had no choice, he began talking again.
“I first met your husband, Daniel, a whole year after he entered the war. As I said, I had risen through the ranks, and was asked by my major to join Daniel’s unit.” Feeling his cheeks heat, he said, “I had some experience in fighting the Confederates along the rivers. And I was adept at keeping order in the ranks.”
Not trusting himself to look at her, he kept his eyes averted. “By the time Daniel and I first met, he had assimilated into the ranks quite well. He was tough. Strong. And never seemed to get bored or depressed like so many other men. As a matter of fact, I would have never realized he was Amish until I heard the slight intonation of his voice. He fit right in with rest of us. He was hardened and battle-weary. And hungry for more. He was a good soldier, Sarah.”
The muscles in her throat tightened. “That was what I feared.”
John was at a loss, but continued on. He wasn’t sure what to say but he was starting to understand that nothing was going to be helpful for her.
Therefore, he continued to tell the truth, even though the story wasn’t pretty and the words were painful. “For all that, Daniel, ah, wasn’t well liked. Men in the ranks didn’t entirely trust him. They didn’t fear him, but it was as if all that was honorable had gone missing from his character.
“When we first went into battle, I saw what the other men had commented on for myself. Daniel seemed to have lost a bit of his humanity. He began to look at those Johnny Rebs as something less than human . . .” He let his voice drift. Though he was determined to tell her the truth, there were some things a woman never needed to know about what happened in the midst of a hard-won battle.
And though he’d already said many unfavorable things about Daniel Ropp’s character, he wasn’t prepared for Sarah to ever find out just how dishonorably her husband had fought.
“Sarah, I am not sure if you want to know more? War is not an easy thing to describe.”
“I want to know everything, Jonathan Scott.”
“All right.” He leaned back against the counter, resting his elbows on the wood planks. “Well, within time, I was his commanding officer, such that I was. His lieutenant. About a month after I arrived, we marched to the rural hills and valleys of Pennsylvania. Near the rivers.”
“Because that’s where you had experience,” she interjected, reminding him of how much he’d already told her.
“Yes. And because that was where we had heard the Rebs were gathering.” Remembering the heat, the flies, the sickness that had decimated their ranks, he grimaced. “It was, ah, a difficult location. Our captain had us build trenches and settle in. Wait.” He lifted his head, hoping to find a way to make her understand how those days were.
Those long, uncomfortable, boring days. When their clothes felt both too stifling and too thin. When their skin had itched and their hair felt full of vermin and he would have given a year of his life just to feel clean again.
“We had too much time on our hands. Or maybe it was just enough? Anyway, Daniel and I began to talk.” He cleared his throat, remembering the conversations. “Rather, he began to talk and I listened.”
“Daniel had a great amount of pride,” she murmured as she steeped another batch of tea.
“Yes. Yes, he did.”
Sarah had seated herself once again. When she took a chair, he sat across from her. Noticed that her hands were clenched tightly, as if she were striving for control in an uncontrollable situation. “What happened next?” she asked.
“As the days continued to pass ever so slowly, Daniel began to tell me about being Amish. He told me about Ohio, about Holmes County. About this settlement and the people who made it up. He told me about your farm and the way ground was fertile and profitable. He told me about your barn and that kitchen table. He told me about your garden and the abundance of wildlife just beyond you in the woods.”
He paused, then plunged ahead and told her the unvarnished truth. “But mostly, Sarah, he talked about you.”
And even as he said the words, he ached to take them back. He hated the memories of Daniel speaking about Sarah. Of how he’d bragged about her cooking and sewing and gardening.
And then would act as if those things were of little consequence.
But most of all, John had hated how such a weak, strange, angry man had felt no remorse for discussing his wife in such a public way.
And how he always, always referred to her as part of his property. As if he owned her. As if he was proud of that fact.
All the while never, ever speaking of love.
Ten
The Admission
HE TALKED ABOUT you.
It was almost miraculous how those four words could bring forth a whole new wave of pain and humiliation.
As Sarah stared at the man she’d thought she knew but was now a stranger, her head began to pound. Suddenly, it was all too much. The harsh memories of her life with Daniel, the grief of realizing she would be alone for the rest of her life, the shock of his return.
And then, most recently, the thin, beautiful ray of hope she’d begun to allow herself to feel. Now, she felt completely devastated.
Staring at Jonathan Scott, realizing how completely he’d fooled her, the pounding in her head grew louder. Soon, it was all she could hear. Her world began to spin as flecks of light and darkness swam before her eyes.
In a vague, hazy way, it occurred to her that she was about to faint. Then she realized that the pressure she’d felt in her lungs wasn’t from suppressed emotions.
She’d merely forgotten to breathe. In a rush, she inhaled quickly, before exhaling and taking yet another fortifying breath.
And was finally able to focus again.
Just a few feet away, John stood up, concern etched in his features. “Sarah? Sarah, are you all right?”
When she didn’t answer, he stepped forward, obviously ready to come to her aid. “Sarah, what may I get you?”
“Nothing. I mean . . . I am fine.”
His expression shuttered as he sat down again. While she got her bearings, he stayed silent. Infinitely patient.
His patience gave her courage to speak. “You said Daniel spoke of me?”
Looking as if his story pained him, John nodded. “You were a source of great pride to him. He, ah, said you were perfect. Perfection.” Obviously uncomfortable, he looked as if he were about to say more but pressed his lips together instead.
Somehow, knowing that he, too, found disgrace in Daniel’s words made it almost easier to bear. “If I was perfect, it was because he forced perfection from me. It was hard-fought and slowly learned.” She closed her eyes, choosing to keep the vivid memories of those lessons to herself. No good would come from John hearing how much pain Daniel’s hands had brought to her body. Or the shame his derisive comments had inflicted on her soul.
She couldn’t bear for anyone to know just how bad her life with him had been. Especially not this man.
As if he could no longer bear to watch her struggle, John stood up again. Eyeing her with trepidation, he backed up. Truly, there wasn’t anywhere for him to go, the room was so small. But still, she could see that he was doing his best to give her a little bit of space. “The picture he painted of you in his words was like no woman I had ever imagined, Sarah. He said you were beautiful. Sweet and devout.”
“Daniel had wanted me to be that way.” She still wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded in tamping out every last bit of spunk inside her. For most of their marriage, it seemed that Daniel hadn’t believed he’d succeeded, either. He’d married her because she had been the means to gain a parcel of land, to have one more thing to boast about. But when she’d failed to give him a child, she’d become little more than a reminder of things he wanted but couldn’t have.
“All I know was that when I walked onto your land, my only concern was to find the money and leave.”
“Money? What money?”
“Daniel told me he’d hidden a large amount on your property. That is the whole reason I came here.” He paused, backed up against her kitchen counter. As if giving her a little more space before continuing. “But I would be a liar if I said I came here hoping to never see the woman Daniel had told me so much about. In truth, I yearned to catch a glimpse of you.”
“Stop.” For reasons she
would never know, Daniel had spun quite a tale to John. She had no desire to hear another minute.
He ignored her. “And that first night, when you caught me in the barn, I drank in the sight of you like a man parched in the desert. And then I knew something else, too.”
She glanced up at him, her cheeks warming from his frank words. “And what was that?”
“You were far more than Daniel had described. I was mesmerized.”
She yearned to cover her burning face with her hands. To run to the safety of her bedroom. To go anywhere but meet his gaze. His words embarrassed her. Puzzled her.
And, if she were completely honest, his short speech made her desire something she hadn’t even realized was vacant from her life until that very moment. “I don’t understand why you are telling me about such things,” she said. “There is no need.”
“There is every need.” Pushing back from the counter, he stepped closer. Then, to her further discomfort, he knelt at her feet.
He continued talking, his voice low and rough. Thick with emotion. “I am going to be real honest with you. I didn’t care for your husband. I didn’t care for his satisfaction in your conduct. I didn’t enjoy hearing about the lessons he’d devised to make you bend to his will. Though he was married and a landowner and had a family and the respect of his community, and I had none of that, I knew I would never want to be the man he was.”
She felt dizzy. Hated the idea that the memories she’d pushed so far away were threatening to surge forward. Never had she imagined that the things Daniel had forced her to do would be spoken aloud.
But far worse than that was the knowledge that John knew, too. He knew what her life had been like. “Don’t speak of it.”
But instead of heeding her wishes, he grasped her hands. Linked his fingers through hers and held on tight. “You are more than he ever deserved, Sarah.”
Hearing such words was almost irresistible. She fought back the impulse to step closer, to hold him to her. She knew she needed to be stronger. Because though his hands felt almost like a lifeline, one fact remained: He’d lied to her.
Redemption Page 8
