His heart was still thudding like the hooves of a runaway horse. It had started when he’d caught Libby looking at him during the wedding ceremony. He drew a lungful of air and released it slowly in an attempt to bring the rapid beat under control. But the extended breath didn’t slow his pulse any more than the tapping erased the discomfort in his missing foot. If she’d stop staring at him from her spot beside the barn, maybe at least his heart would settle down. He turned his back on her and forced himself to look elsewhere.
People swarmed the yard, laughing, talking, helping themselves to the platters of food that covered every inch of the cloth-draped plank tables forming a neat line across the middle of the open schoolyard. He examined the food offerings. Cookie Ramona had outdone herself in preparing for her daughter’s wedding. Oven-baked chickens, smoked hams, and beef roasts competed for prominence among a bevy of vegetables, salads, and desserts. No one should go away hungry today. He chuckled as he watched Bennett fill his plate to overflowing. His friend’s face wore a grin for the first time in days. Pete was glad to see the change.
But the change he’d seen in Libby during the wedding . . . He gulped. Slowly, almost against his own will, he angled himself to look toward the barn where he’d last seen her. She remained in the same spot, hands behind her back, a wistful look on her face. He spun away again, heat rising from his neck to flood his cheeks. A groan left his throat.
He wished he could gather enough courage to march over there, plant his palms on the barn on either side of her shoulders, and demand why she’d pinned him with such a reflective look during the wedding. Didn’t she know she’d turned his world upside-down with that expression? Because he knew something had risen to life within her in those moments of examination. He knew, because he’d experienced the same change toward her two years ago.
He’d sent many pleas heavenward, asking God to awaken in Libby the ability to love him the way he loved her, if it was God’s will for him. Now he suspected Libby’s feelings were moving from friendship to something more, but how could it be God’s will? Their life goals were so different. . . .
“Hey, buddy, aren’t you gonna eat?” Bennett bumped Pete with his elbow. He lifted a chicken leg and took a huge bite.
“Yes. Soon,” Pete answered absently, still trapped beneath Libby’s unwavering observation.
Bennett took another bite. He glanced across the grounds, and he chuckled. “Why’s Lib still over there?” He waved the chicken bone in the air. “Hey, Lib! Come get something to eat!”
Pete swung on Bennett. “What’d you do that for?”
Bennett gaped at him in surprise. “Do what? Tell Libby to eat? Why shouldn’t she—” Then his jaw dropped. He looked from Pete to Libby to Pete again. He burst out laughing.
Pete whacked Bennett’s shoulder. A few green beans tumbled over the edge of his well-filled plate. “Stop it.”
Bennett took a firmer hold on his plate and stepped away from Pete. “Me stop it?” Humor bubbled under his words. “How about you and Lib, going all cow-eyed over each other. If anybody ought to stop something . . .” His voice trailed off, but the implication hit its mark.
Pete blew out a mighty breath. “I know. As Libby so eloquently pointed out, it’s ludicrous.” He swallowed, forcing down the bitter taste that filled his mouth. He tried to sound glib. “I think it’s just the wedding. Seeing Matt and Lorna together . . . It’s put ideas in her head.”
“Yeah.” Bennett munched a roll. “She is, after all, a girl. And girls have peculiar romantic notions. Always wanting some fella to fawn over them.” He raised one eyebrow. “So you gonna give her what she wants?”
“I can’t. You know why.”
“Uh-huh. ’Cause you’re planning to be a preacher.” Chewing thoughtfully, Bennett looked at Libby again. “And Libby doesn’t want to be a preacher’s wife. So you might wanna go over there and remind her of it. Before she lets her wild ideas get out of control.”
Pete nodded. Rarely did he follow Bennett’s advice. As much as he liked Bennett, his friend generally acted without much forethought. This time, however, Bennett made sense. It was only the romance of the moment that had brought out this attentive side of Libby. It was best if they both recognized that fact.
His stomach churned as he wove between other guests, creating a meandering path to the spot against the barn where Libby seemed to have taken root. Lord, give me strength. As much as it had hurt to hear her claim anything beyond friendship would be ludicrous, he knew it would be infinitely more painful to say the words himself.
He stopped a few feet in front of her. Her eyes had grown wider the closer he’d drawn, and she stared at him, unblinking, her lips parted slightly. The bodice of her rose-colored church dress visibly rose and fell with her rapid breaths. She reminded him of a scared rabbit. But was she frightened of him or of her own feelings?
He drew a fortifying breath. “Libby, I—” Before he could say anything more, she grabbed his hand and pulled him through the barn’s open doorway. Stumbling behind her, his focus turned to staying upright. She dragged him up the aisle to the spot where she had taken his elbow before leaving the ceremony. Finally she released his hand and whirled to face him.
The change from full sun to shadow forced him to squint to make out her features, but he glimpsed the same adoring warmth he’d seen earlier. He shook his head. “Libby, stop.”
She tipped her head, the innocent bewilderment in her eyes nearly breaking his heart.
“Don’t look at me that way.”
Stepping forward, she rested her palms on his chest. A soft smile lit her face, and he suspected she felt his pounding heartbeat beneath her hands. “But why?”
“Because.” He caught her wrists and pushed her hands down.
Hurt flashed in her eyes. “Petey?”
“Don’t you remember what you said in the dining hall? Ludicrous— that’s what you said. And you were right.” He forced the words past his closed, aching throat. His tone turned harsh. “You and I are friends, and you’ll ruin everything if you start—”
“If I start loving you?” She matched his tone in severity, but her chin quivered. “I’m afraid it might be too late for that.” She took several gulping breaths. Clasping her hands at her waist, she fixed him with a pensive look. “Petey, today when I looked at you . . . it’s as if I saw you for the first time. I saw not the boy who’s always been my friend and playmate, but someone new. Someone . . . completely desirable.” Her hands rose and she placed them flat against her heart. “Inside of me, something changed. A good change, Petey. And I—”
“You’re willing to give up your plans of travel? Of writing about world events?” He searched her face, praying she might say yes. But to his distress, she flinched. He sighed. “You see, Libby? It is ludicrous. I can’t travel the world with you—not with this . . .” He glared down at his ever-aching leg. “This piece of wood holding me back.” Raising his chin, he added, “And I wouldn’t even if I had two good legs. Because that isn’t what God’s called me to do. I have to become a preacher, Libby, don’t you see? And you have to be what you’ve been called to be.”
Tears glimmered in her eyes. She never cried. To do so now spoke of how deeply his words affected her. But they had to face the truth. Cupping her shoulders with both hands, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I do love you, Libby. I have for a long time. I probably always will.” He swallowed again, fighting the desire to crush her to his chest. He tightened his hands into a gentle squeeze. “But I can’t ask you to love me back. Not if it means asking you to abandon the task God’s given you.”
“But . . .” She fell silent and hung her head.
Pete dropped his hands and took an awkward step backward. He gestured weakly toward the open barn doors. Sounds of the after-wedding celebration drifted in, the happiness in the guests’ voices a direct contrast to the sadness hanging like a storm cloud in the barn. “We better go. You need to get something to eat, and the dance’ll be starti
ng soon. People will wonder where we are.”
She nodded, the movement so slight he almost thought he’d imagined it. “Y-you go ahead. I need to sit and . . .” Her throat convulsed, but then she lifted her chin, taking on a regal stance.
“I need a few minutes alone.”
“All right.” Pete turned and took a few slow steps toward the doors. Then he paused and looked back. “Libby?”
She stared straight ahead. “Yes?”
“Can I have the first dance?”
For long seconds she sat so still it appeared she’d turned to stone.
Then she shifted her face slightly to meet his gaze. She gave him the saddest smile he’d ever seen. “Of course. The very first.”
“Then I’ll watch for you.”
She looked away without replying. Pete shuffled out of the barn, his steps labored. He’d done the right thing. It wouldn’t be fair to hold Libby back. A wild spirit like hers deserved free rein. Letting her go was the best thing. For both of them.
So why did he feel as though he carried the weight of the world on his back?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When Pete stepped from the barn, he nearly collided with Jackson Harders. The man caught Pete’s arm and laughed. “Whoa. You’re in a hurry. Eager to get to the dance, huh?”
The only person Pete wanted as a dance partner was Libby, and even though she’d promised him the first dance, he suspected she’d try to avoid him. “Not really. But I’m glad I ran into you. I have something important to ask you.”
Jackson slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels, his expression attentive. “Certainly, Pete.”
“Do you think you could help me locate my parents?”
Jackson seemed to study Pete’s face. Pete fidgeted, glad for the heavy shadow cast by the barn. Perhaps the lawyer wouldn’t be able to see beneath his surface to the lurking resentment.
Jackson’s eyebrows rose. “I assume you mean your birth parents, since Aaron and Isabelle are right there.”
“Yes.” Pete nodded. “Gunter and Berta Leidig. I . . . I need to see them.” I need to purge myself of this fury, which has no place in my life.
“I can certainly try.” Jackson’s calm voice contrasted with the wild emotions churning through Pete’s middle. “But are you sure? It’s a big step, trying to reunite with your parents. Could go one of two ways.” He lifted his hand and flicked his fingers upward to count. “They could welcome you back into the fold, or they could refuse to see you.” His hand curled into a fist, and he lowered it to his side. “Either way, you’ll be changed permanently. So . . . are you sure you want me to open that door for you?”
Pete set his jaw. He knew he’d carry this bitter anger until he laid it at his parents’ feet. He had to see them, regardless of the costs involved. “I’m sure.”
“All right, then.” Jackson gave Pete’s shoulder a clap. “I’ll send out inquiries on Monday. Now let’s go join the party.”
Libby sat, staring at the flower-laden trellis where Matt and Lorna had stood and committed themselves to love, honor, and cherish each other for the remainder of their lives. She’d stared so long, unblinking, that her eyes hurt. Finally she let them fall closed, but behind her lids she saw an image of Petey standing straight and tall and proud beside Matt. At last, her stiff spine collapsed. She slumped over her lap, burying her face in her hands.
How foolish she’d been to throw herself at Petey that way. Hadn’t she already realized she didn’t possess the necessary traits to be a preacher’s wife? Petey was right—they had to be what they were each called to be.
She sat upright again, her breath catching. Petey had said God had called him to become a preacher, and he’d intimated she’d received a similar call to be a writer. But she couldn’t honestly say God had prompted her to take up paper and pen. It was something she’d chosen herself. In fact, she couldn’t recall ever feeling as though God had communicated anything to her. She’d prayed to God—the Rowleys made sure the children in the orphans’ school attended Sunday services, prayed before meals and at bedtime, and they’d encouraged each of the children to develop a relationship with God by accepting His Son Jesus as their Savior. Yes, Libby had frequently talked to God over the years, but not once had she heard Him so much as whisper in reply.
Once, soon after she’d come to the orphans’ school, Libby had asked Maelle about receiving answers to prayers. But Maelle’s reply had been less than satisfying. “God doesn’t always speak to us in an audible voice, Libby. Sometimes He speaks directly to our hearts. We just have to know how to listen.” Even now, years later, Libby could make little sense of God speaking into her heart.
Crunching her brow, she puzzled over the difference between desire and a distinct calling. Might it be God had planted this overwhelming desire to write within her as a way of calling her? Calls were intended for the better good—that much she understood. And writing articles that informed people of happenings in the world that affected them personally would certainly do a service. But . . .
She bit down on her lower lip, facing the truth. Her desire to write world-impacting stories was rooted in the recognition it could bring her rather than the good it might do for others.
Frustrated, she bounced from the bench and paced the short aisle. A faded shaft of sunlight, allowed in through one of the windows facing west, angled across Libby’s path. She stopped and let her eyes follow the soft beam from its beginning to its end. Dust motes danced in the yellow light, reminding her of stars glittering in the sky. A longing rose from her middle—to speak to God and ask Him what she should do. Her heart pounding, she licked her lips and whispered, “God?”
“Libby?”
She let out a little shriek.
A familiar chuckle rolled—Maelle’s. Libby turned toward the barn doors, where Maelle and Jackson stood. They stepped fully into the barn as Jackson said, “Did I frighten you?”
“Yes. For a moment I thought— Oh, never mind what I thought.” Disappointment created an ache in the center of her heart. As if the almighty God would take time to speak to someone as unimportant as she . . .
Maelle brushed a strand of hair from Libby’s cheek. “What are you doing in here all by yourself?”
She shrugged, uncertain how to answer.
Maelle smiled. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. I’m glad we found you, though. There’s something important we need to discuss with you.” She and Jackson exchanged a secretive look.
Libby’s spine tingled with awareness. “S-something important?”
“Life-changing,” Jackson added with a serious nod.
Libby found it difficult to breathe. Could God finally have decided to answer her dearest prayer? Her legs began to tremble. “W-well then, let’s sit down and y-you can tell me.”
She sank onto a bench, and Maelle and Jackson sat on either side of her. Maelle took her hand. “Libby, before we share our important news, I want you to know how much I’ve always loved you.”
“I know you do,” Libby said quickly. “I’ve always loved you, too.”
Maelle squeezed her hand. “And you also know why I didn’t adopt you when you were a little girl.”
Libby nodded, her hair swinging in her face. She tossed the strands over her shoulder with an impatient flick of her wrist. “Yes. You didn’t think it would be fair since you were unmarried. You wanted me to have a mother and a father.” She sent a quick shy smile to Jackson before turning back to Maelle.
“That’s right.” Maelle leaned forward slightly, looking at Jackson.
He cleared his throat, and Libby turned her head to face him. “Maelle and I were forced to wait until I finished my legislative work before we could get married.” He released a rueful sigh, rubbing his finger under his nose. “It turned into a longer wait than either of us anticipated. While we’ve enjoyed these years together, we’ve also longed to begin building a family.”
“Of course, we hoped to have children of our own
. . .” Sadness flashed through Maelle’s eyes. “But for whatever reason, God hasn’t chosen to allow it.”
Jackson leaned across Libby to give Maelle’s hand a brief squeeze. “So God has opened our hearts to forming a family by less traditional means.”
Libby’s heart pounded so hard she feared it might bounce into her throat and choke her. She gasped out a single word. “Y-yes?” At last she’d be able to call Maelle Ma! It might take her a while to feel comfortable enough to call Jackson Pa, but—
“And that’s why,” Maelle said, her smile serene, “Jackson and I have asked permission of Isabelle to adopt Hannah and Hester.”
For a moment, Libby thought she’d been kicked, because the air seemed forced from her lungs. She could scarcely draw a breath. “Hannah and . . . and H-Hester?”
“That’s right. They’re the sweetest girls, but so sad.” Maelle shook her head. “The first time we met them, our hearts just went out to them. We know they need us as much as we need them.” Maelle reached past Libby to clasp Jackson’s hand. “We’re so happy to become parents. And we wanted you to share our happiness, Libby. You’re the first person we’ve told. Well—” she laughed lightly—“besides Isabelle and Aaron, of course. So are you happy for us?”
Resentment and anger coiled through Libby’s frame, so intense she couldn’t remain seated. She jumped up, forcing Maelle’s arm aside. Stomping forward several feet, she clenched her fists and pinched her eyes closed. How dare You, God? How dare You give the mother I wanted to someone else? Then a sardonic thought flitted through her mind. Earlier that day, when Hannah and Hester had finished helping her make the crepe paper flowers, Libby had asked God to provide the girls with loving parents. God had certainly answered. . . .
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