The Forgiven

by Marta Perry

  Rebecca froze, praying she wasn’t flushing, feeling mortified and angry all at once. Maybe Simon’s claim that people were gossiping wasn’t as far-fetched as she’d thought.

  The other women around Sadie fell silent when they saw Rebecca standing there. Sadie, maybe warned by their stillness, swung around and saw her.

  Rebecca had to speak, had to do something to refute the implication that Matt came over to see her. Sadie was staring at her, lips pressed together, eyes snapping.

  Say something, Rebecca commanded herself, but she couldn’t.

  Mary Stoltzfus, the bishop’s wife, set a cake pan on the table with a clatter that sounded loud in the silence. “Since your cousin is renting a building for his business from Rebecca, it isn’t surprising that he should spend time at the Fisher place, ain’t so?” Her tone was mild, but she spoke with the assurance of one who knew that what she said made a difference to those who heard.

  Sadie flushed, an angry red that stained her cheeks. For an instant it seemed she didn’t intend to respond.

  “Ja,” she said at last. “That’s true.” With a flash of temper she added, “But he’s supposed to be helping my daad.” She dropped the slice of cake she was holding and turned to shove her way out of the kitchen.

  Rebecca had an intense longing to sink right through the floor. But that was impossible, and she wouldn’t run off as Sadie had done.

  “Rebecca, would you give me a hand with the salads? And some of you can start carrying the sandwich trays and the lemonade out.” Ella Esh spoke as if nothing had happened, and Rebecca was profoundly grateful. She hurried to Ella’s side and began dishing out macaroni salad as if it were the most important job in the world.

  The crowd in the kitchen began to thin out as they started serving the lunch. “Denke,” Rebecca murmured to Ella.

  “Ach, it’s nothing.” Ella was brisk and angular, with cheeks as rosy as apples whatever the season. “You don’t want to listen to anything Sadie Byler says. She’s got a bee in her bonnet about her cousin Matt coming back and taking Isaiah’s place. Everybody knows that.”

  Ella made a shooing motion. “Go on now and get your lunch. I’ll be out as soon as I start another pot of coffee.”

  There was nothing to do but obey. Rebecca paused at the bottom of the porch steps, reluctant to join the rest of the church around the tables. What if they were talking about her? She made a detour around the side of the house to admire Ella’s flower bed, where tulips, daffodils, and hyacinth bloomed profusely against the side of the house.

  A flicker of movement caught her eye from the line of buggies parked along the lane. She frowned. Why was a woman wandering between the buggies? It was natural enough to see someone going back to her buggy to fetch something or perhaps to load something, but this woman was doing neither of those things. Instead she seemed to be drifting aimlessly from one buggy to the next.

  A vague uneasiness took shape, sharpening when she realized who the woman was. Lovina Byler. Everyone knew Lovina wasn’t well. They knew, too, that her husband or daughter generally kept a close eye on her when they were away from home.

  Maybe she should get Sadie—but her heart rebelled at the thought of a conversation with Sadie at the moment. Instead she walked quickly toward Lovina. Maybe she could encourage Lovina to come back to the others.

  The woman didn’t seem to notice when she approached, not until Rebecca touched her arm lightly.

  “Lovina? Are you looking for something?”

  Lovina’s eyes were misted, as if she might cry at any moment. She wore a puzzled, almost lost expression. “No. I don’t think so.”

  Poor soul. How terrible it must be to feel your mind slipping away.

  “You haven’t had your lunch yet, have you? Komm. I’ll walk back to the table with you.” She tucked her hand securely in Lovina’s arm and tried to steer her back toward the others.

  Lovina took a few obedient steps and then stopped. “I have to find him.”

  “Your husband? I’m sure he’s back here with the others.”

  “No.” Lovina pulled her arm free and turned back toward the buggies. “I have to find Isaiah. I don’t know where he is.”

  Isaiah, of course. Lovina didn’t remember that her son had run off to the Englisch world. Tears stung Rebecca’s eyes at the pain of the situation.

  “I don’t think he’s by the buggies,” she said, as calmly as she could manage. “Maybe he’s having lunch. Shall we go and see?” She couldn’t lie very convincingly, but she tried.

  Lovina shook her head. “I need the buggy, so I can go and find him.”

  A shiver ran down Rebecca’s spine at the thought of Lovina out on the highway alone in a buggy. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Where was Lovina’s family? Rebecca couldn’t leave her alone while she went and found them, but she couldn’t drag Lovina along in the face of her obsession with finding her lost son.

  She looked toward the tables, and relief flooded through her. Matt and his uncle were headed toward them.

  “Look, Lovina, here’s Matt and Silas. I’m sure they’ll help you.”

  Matt, a little ahead of his uncle, reached them in time to hear her words. She sent him a look that combined pleading and sympathy, hoping he understood what was happening.

  “What do you need, Aunt Lovina?” He put his arm around his aunt, his voice very gentle.

  She shook her head, the lost look intensifying. “I have to find Isaiah. Where is he? I have to find him.”

  Silas had reached them, and Rebecca saw the pain in his eyes as he spoke. “It’s all right. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Komm.” He took Lovina’s arm and urged her gently away toward the tables.

  She held back for an instant, but then she nodded and walked docilely along with her husband.

  “Denke, Rebecca.” Matt’s voice was rough.

  “I did nothing.” She looked into his face, expecting the pain she saw.

  But there was more than pain written there. There was guilt, strong and unmistakable, so powerful it seemed to radiate from him. But why should Matt feel guilty about his cousin Isaiah’s defection?

  • • •

  “Almost finished.” Matt guided Josh’s fingers to screw the hook onto the top of his birdhouse. “We’ll put a wire on this, and then you can hang it up.”

  “And then the birds will come and live in it. They’ll really like it.” Josh’s small face was alive with the joy of making something almost by himself.

  “That’s certain-sure. How could they help but like it, when you made it for them?”

  “You helped,” Josh said quickly. “I couldn’t do it by myself.”

  “That’s the best way of learning something, working alongside someone who already knows how to do it. One day you’ll be able to teach someone else how to do it.”

  Josh pondered that, blue eyes serious. “Maybe. If I had a little bruder, I could teach him, but I don’t.”

  “Maybe someday you’ll have a cousin you can teach.” Matt said the word lightly enough. Unfortunately he discovered that he was picturing Isaiah standing where Joshua was, looking up at his big cousin with admiration.

  How had Isaiah run so far off track as to jump the fence? Worse, never even getting in touch with his parents to let them know he was all right? He wasn’t a sixteen-year-old, running off to enjoy his rumspringa. He was twenty-two, old enough to be taking on a man’s responsibilities.

  Trying unsuccessfully to push his errant cousin out of his thoughts, Matt showed Joshua how to attach the wire from which the birdhouse would swing. Too bad the process didn’t take up more of his attention. He couldn’t help thinking of Aunt Lovina, trying so hard to find Isaiah after worship yesterday. Isaiah should have been there to put his arm around her and reassure her when her mind slipped. How could he treat her so?

&nbs
p; It was Rebecca whose loving heart had seen something was amiss, Rebecca who’d gone quickly to the rescue. He suspected that would always be her response to someone in trouble.

  “What’s wrong?” Joshua took a step back, looking at Matt with wide eyes.

  Matt glanced down, realizing that he’d gripped the wire so tightly it had cut his finger. A drop of blood welled up and dripped down.

  He shook it off impatiently. “It’s fine. The wire is a bit sharp, and I should be paying more attention to what I’m doing, ain’t so?”

  Joshua nodded, but his eyes were wary. Did he realize that it had been anger, not inattention, that rode Matt?

  “Now we’ll just twist the wire together, and your birdhouse is ready to hang. Why don’t you run and show your mammi? Just be careful with holding the wire.”

  Obviously he wasn’t fit company for a child when his temper could get out of control that easily. It would be best for Joshua to be off.

  But Joshua grabbed his hand, tugging it. “You come, too. You helped.”

  The boy was so eager that Matt didn’t have the heart to disappoint him. He let himself be led out of the workshop and tugged toward the farmhouse.

  What was wrong with him? Every time he thought he had his temper vanquished, it jutted its ugly head up again. If all he’d been through hadn’t beaten it down, maybe the task was hopeless. He knew only too well how short the step was between losing his temper and striking out. If he couldn’t obey the most basic Amish commitment to nonviolence, how could he be Amish?

  Rebecca was bending over the flower bed at the side of the house, Katie beside her, when Joshua went running to her, the birdhouse bouncing from the wire he held.

  From a few steps behind, Matt heard his excited voice. “Look, Mammi. Look, Katie. See what I made? It’s for the birds, and they’ll come and live in it, and I’ll watch them.”

  Rebecca knelt and held out her arms to her son, stopping his headlong rush with a laughing gesture. “Slow down a minute, Josh.” Her hand stilled the birdhouse’s swinging. “Look at that. It’s a beautiful birdhouse. You really made it?”

  “I did.” He glanced at Matt. “Not all by myself. Matt showed me what to do.”

  “That was very nice of him.” Her smiling gaze swept up to Matt’s face, and for just an instant he felt as if he were losing his balance. “Denke, Matt.”

  “Joshua learned very fast. He did most of it.” He intercepted a doubting look from Katie and grinned at her. After a startled moment, she managed a slight smile in return.

  “Katie, look at this little perch by the door for the birds to sit on. Didn’t Josh do a good job?”

  “I guess.” She moved a little closer, seeming reluctant to show any interest. “Maybe the birds would rather build their nests in trees.”

  Josh’s face clouded up, and Rebecca intervened quickly. “Probably some birds would rather be out in the woods in the trees, but there are others who would love a little house like this. Remember the wrens who kept trying to build a nest over the front door last spring?”

  Katie nodded. “Grossmammi said wrens like being around people. Maybe they’d want to live in Joshua’s little house.”

  Rebecca smiled at her daughter as if she’d said the right thing. “Why don’t you help Josh decide on a place to hang it? Maybe somewhere near the back porch would be good, and then you can watch the birds from the kitchen window without scaring them.”

  “Komm schnell, Josh,” Katie said, and the two children raced off, the birdhouse bouncing between them.

  Rebecca smiled after them and then switched the smile to Matt. “It was wonderful kind of you to go to all that trouble with Josh.”

  “It wasn’t trouble. I liked doing it.” He hesitated. He ought to be getting back to his own work instead of standing here talking to Rebecca. Unfortunately he seemed to have problems following his own good intentions where she was concerned.

  “I wanted to ask you about Lovina. How is she?” Sympathy filled Rebecca’s face. “I felt so useless yesterday—wanting to help her and not knowing how.”

  “You were there,” he said gruffly. “That’s about all any of us can do.”

  “Especially when the person she really wants is Isaiah, ain’t so? I didn’t have a chance to tell you what she said to me.”

  He shrugged. “She was looking for him, I suppose. Sometimes she sees me and thinks I’m Isaiah, and then she’s hurt all over again when she realizes I’m not.”

  “And you’re hurt, as well.” Rebecca’s voice was soft. “But yesterday—yesterday she said she was going to take the buggy and go look for him.” She hesitated, and a shiver seemed to go through her. “It frightened me, and I couldn’t dissuade her. I was wonderful glad to see you and your onkel coming.”

  That shook him. “I’ll tell Onkel Silas. He tries to keep a close eye on her when they’re out anywhere, but it’s hard to do without making her feel that he thinks she’s a child.” He longed to touch Rebecca’s hand, but he restrained himself. “We were fortunate you were paying attention yesterday.”

  She shrugged. “Ach, if it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else, I’m sure.” She hesitated, as if not sure whether to say more or not. “I wish . . . All of us wish . . . that Isaiah would come home. I’d never have thought he’d be so heedless of his family as to go away.”

  “Nobody could believe it. Maybe that’s what makes it so difficult.”

  And how much of Isaiah’s foolishness in running off to the Englisch world had come out of his wanting to copy the big cousin he’d always admired? Matt couldn’t shake off the guilt, no matter what he told himself.

  It was Rebecca who reached out, touching his hand lightly. “You’re a gut man, Matthew, giving up your own life to come and help your aunt and onkel at such a time.”

  A good man? Rebecca had a generous heart. But probably even she wouldn’t think that if she knew everything there was to know about him. After all, she’d never seen him in the orange jumpsuit they made you wear in the county jail.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Rebecca pinned the double wedding quilt on the line to dry, smoothing it with her hand. The afternoon sunlight made the deep, saturated colors glow like jewels. Her grandmother had made the quilt, using scraps collected from dresses and shirts and pants she’d sewn for her family over the years.

  Grossmammi had given it to Rebecca when she was married for her new life with Paul. Now it would cover the bed used by visitors in their house.

  That was what Paul would have wanted, after all. He’d taken as much pleasure as she had in deciding what to put in the guest rooms.

  She was going to entertain their guests without Paul. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

  Determination stiffened her spine. The answer had come from her first guests quickly. Mr. and Mrs. Strickland had responded almost by return mail. They wanted to come next weekend. One way or another, she had to be ready. Everything should be at its best.

  Movement caught her eye, and she spotted Simon coming out of the barn. She still hadn’t set things right with him, and the longer she waited, the more difficult it would be. Dropping a handful of clothespins in her basket, she walked toward Simon, hurrying a little so he couldn’t dodge her the way he’d been doing for the past week.

  “Simon, wait a minute.”

  He swung toward her, a bucket filled with chicken feed in his hand. “Rebecca.” He glanced at the bucket, as if wondering what he was doing with it, and set it down. “I guess I . . . I’m glad you’re here. I want to talk to you.”

  “That’s good. I want to talk to you, too.” She kept her voice gentle, reminding herself that no matter how much Simon had annoyed her with his criticism, he was her little brother and she shouldn’t have spoken so harshly to him.

  “I’m sorry.” Simon rushed the words. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
>
  “No, I’m sorry.” She touched his shoulder, thinking how often she had comforted him this way when something went wrong. The only difference was that she had to reach up to touch him now. “I should never have spoken the way I did about Mary Ann and her mother. It was unkind, and it hurt you.”

  To her surprise, he gave her a shamefaced smile. “Don’t feel bad. Truth is, Mary Ann’s mamm is hard to take sometimes, ain’t so?”

  Her tension relaxed. “I still shouldn’t have said so. I do regret it.”

  He grimaced. “You said nothing I haven’t thought myself, that’s certain-sure. Of course, Mary Ann’s not like that at all.”

  He sounded just slightly uncertain, and Rebecca bit her lip to keep from saying how often girls, especially oldest daughters, turned out just like their mothers. Simon wouldn’t want to hear it from her, not now. He might have to find out for himself, but maybe he was starting to have second thoughts.

  “Anyway, I’m sorry I butted in about opening the farm to visitors again. I know you’re trying to do what Paul would have wanted.” Simon had rushed the words, and now he stopped for breath. “So if you still want me to help with showing them the farm chores, I will. Maybe it’ll even be fun.”

  Fun. That was one word she hadn’t used to describe her intention to open the farm-stay, but if Simon found it so, that was all to the good.

  “Denke, Simon.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them back quickly. “I’m wonderful glad you’re willing to do it. It will make all the difference, having you working with me on the project.”

  He nodded, looking embarrassed at her display of emotion. Manlike, he didn’t know what to do about tears. “Come on. I’ll help you hang the rest of those heavy quilts.”

  Rebecca could do it herself easily enough, but she wasn’t going to turn down a peace offering. She nodded, and together they shook out the next wet quilt and hung it on the clothesline.

  “You’re getting the bedrooms ready for guests, ain’t so? We should talk about what you want me to do.” Simon put a final clothespin in place.