He had the grace to look ashamed, but only for a moment. “Seth, it has been more than a year. You need to think about getting married again.”
Words snapped out of my mouth at a volume I did not intend. “Who are you to tell me what I need?”
The people filing toward the house turned their heads our way, and I drew a deep breath to try to calm myself.
“I am your friend.”
“If you were my friend,” I ground out, “then you would respect my grief over the loss of two wives.”
“I do, truly. But you cannot continue to live in the past.”
Angry heat shot down my spine. “Two wives, Josiah. Both dead. I will not kill a third.”
I would have given anything to take back those words. Understanding dawned on his face, followed closely by something that fanned my anger even hotter. What right did he have to pity me?
“Seth, you did not kill Rachel or Hannah. If you feel responsible, there is something wrong.”
I raised my hand, which trembled with the effort to control my voice, and shook my finger in his face. “Do not speak to me of them again. You do not know anything about my feelings.”
When I would have strode away, he grabbed my arm. With a violent shake, I threw off his grip.
In a flash, his own anger replaced the pity in his eyes. “If that is your true feeling, you should talk to the bishop or someone who can help you.” His mouth tightened. “I cannot.”
Turning on his heel, he stomped away from me.
I did not move until the last person had entered the house. Then I marched away with long, determined strides. A church service was no place for the rage simmering inside me. I would walk home and pray for Gott to cool the fires that smoldered in my mind.
I couldn’t banish the conversation with Josiah from my thoughts. During the ride to work on Monday morning, his words played over and over, which derailed my determination to spend that time in prayer. Was there something wrong with me? The speed with which anger overtook me as we talked was disturbing. No, the emotion had been stronger than anger. I’d felt nearly blinded with rage. In that respect, Josiah was right. A man should be able to control his feelings.
But Josiah did not understand my guilt. No one did. Of course I had not done anything to kill either Rachel or Hannah. I knew that. My fault lay in inaction. With Rachel, I had not insisted on taking her to the hospital. I had let her tearful pleas for home birth to persuade me. But who was the husband, the head of the family? Had I forced her, she might still be alive. My failure to act had contributed to her death.
A car passed my buggy, and Orion’s pace remained steady. A good horse, this one. If only I had chosen a gentle one like him last year.
Lars had been another failure on my part. I should have insisted on a different horse, one with a calmer temperament, no matter how taken Hannah had been with Lars.
I removed my hat and scrubbed at my scalp, as if that could dislodge the disturbing thoughts. Logic told me I was not the cause of the accident that killed Hannah. Those Englisch teens bore the majority of the fault. But I could not shake the certainty that, had I made different decisions, my second wife might not have died.
The battle still raged in my mind when I arrived at the shop. Leah’s car sat in the usual parking place, but I had arrived before Elias. I unhitched Orion and turned him out in the pasture, my hands itching to wedge clay and mold it into something useful. A pitcher today, perhaps, to match the cups I’d trimmed yesterday.
Leah greeted me with a bright smile which I returned halfheartedly. Her smile faded into concern.
“Is something wrong?”
I halted on my way toward the workshop. “Why do you ask?”
Her lips twisted. “Because you’re carrying a storm cloud on your face.”
My chest heaved with a bitter laugh. “It’s nothing. Driving from home gives me too much time for thinking. The sooner I move to Strasburg, the better.”
“Changing where you live won’t stop you from thinking.” A scowl settled on her face. “Trust me in this. I know.”
I so wanted to ask what had happened to her. I almost did, but she spoke first.
“It’s girl trouble, isn’t it?” I must have looked surprised. “When a man looks as disturbed as you do, a girl must be involved. Is it the runaway who came home? The one who likes you?”
“Laura King.”
“Laura. I’d forgotten her name. She flirted with you at church yesterday.” She ducked her head to catch my eye. “Am I right?”
That, at least, had been one benefit from my flare of temper. I’d been spared Laura’s flirting and possibly another invitation to drive her somewhere.
“No, because I did not go to church.”
“Really? I thought you said yesterday was a church Sunday.”
“It was.”
Her expression became openly curious, which was not customary for the normally taciturn Leah. We had become friends after weeks of seeing each other and eating together, but she rarely pried into my private life, as I did not hers. Just then, though, she seemed genuinely interested.
I heaved a sigh and shifted my coat from one arm to the other. “The women in my family schemed to throw us together yesterday, but I would not let them manipulate me.”
I described the conversation over breakfast. When I got to the part where Mammi came to my rescue, she said, “I think I would like your grandmother.”
“I am sure of it.”
We shared a smile, and then her brow creased. “You said you didn’t go to church, but you rode there with your grandmother?”
Looking away, I struggled with how to answer. “I…argued with a friend before the service began. So I left.” My face heated at the admission that I could not control my temper.
“Let me guess. Your friend agrees with your mother that you should marry Laura King.”
I gave her a sharp look. Leah was smart. I’d known that from the beginning. But until that moment I hadn’t realized that she was also more perceptive than most.
As if my bubble of reserve burst, I found myself pouring out my frustration. “I do not understand why everyone wants to see me married. Do they not hear me when I say I will never marry again? I have loved two women. That is more than enough for any man.”
“And they both died.” She spoke the words I held back. “You feel responsible, is that it?”
My hands itched for activity. I clenched them into fists. “I was responsible.”
Her voice lowered to barely above a whisper. “You told me how they died. Neither one sounded like your fault.”
“But maybe if I’d acted differently…” The words choked me. Never before this moment had I given voice to the guilt that tormented me.
“That kind of thinking will drive you crazy, Seth. You weren’t responsible.” Her voice grew even softer. “Just like I wasn’t responsible.”
I looked up to see her running a finger down the scar on her face, her gaze tortured and unfocused. Never had she looked so young, so vulnerable. Thoughts of myself fled, and I fought the impulse to cross the space between us and gather her into a protective embrace.
The door opened, and Elias entered. The moment between us shattered at the sound of jingling bells.
“Guder mariye,” he called in his cheerful voice.
“Good morning.”
Leah matched his tone. I peered at her and marveled that her expression had changed in an instant. Gone was the raw emotion I’d glimpsed, though the smile she gave her grossdaadi appeared a touch rigid.
She picked up a piece of paper and handed it to him. “The electric bill. It’s higher than usual.”
He barely glanced at it before setting it on the counter. “Ya, well, we run the kiln more than before.” Grinning at me, he rubbed his hands together. “It is time to get to work, my apprentice.”
Leah did not meet my eye as I passed by, following Elias into the workshop.
Aaron set Wednesday as the day pla
nting would begin. With our four-row planter, purchased two years ago, he expected to have the cornfields completed in four days. The tobacco seedlings had been delivered two days past, and were currently hardening beside the field where they would grow to maturity. Transplanting them would begin Monday. Our tobacco setter was an old one, only two rows, and required three people to operate. The process was slower than that of planting corn, but we grew only a few acres of tobacco, so he allocated two days for that task. I would be gone from the shop for a week.
On Tuesday I finished trimming all my greenware and readied them for the bisque firing. I also glazed everything in the bisque trays, unwilling to leave any work that Elias would have to finish for me. I worked late, and when I left the shop, Leah was already gone.
The sun had sunk low on the horizon by the time I hitched Orion to the buggy. My thoughts centered on Leah during the trip home. Our talk the day before had changed something between us. There was now an awkwardness that hadn’t existed before. Whenever I remembered my confession of guilt, my cheeks burned. Why had I not kept my thoughts to myself?
Yet in an odd way, I felt my pain was safe in Leah’s keeping. Even with the awkwardness, I sensed a new closeness whenever our eyes met. I found myself wanting to return to that moment before Elias interrupted our conversation. If I had asked then, would she have confided in me? Not only about the scar on her face, but the reason she left the Amish?
Another question burned in my mind. Would she ever consider returning?
The reason behind that question lay at the base of the awkward feelings I felt in her presence. I didn’t want to consider why.
The timing of Aaron’s planting could not have been better. When I returned to the shop after a week’s absence, maybe things between us would be back to normal.
The sun was nothing but a dim glow in the west by the time Orion and I arrived home. I brought the buggy to a stop beside Aaron’s and hopped out. Noah’s buggy was not there. A twinge of concern plagued me as I hopped to the ground.
The door to the daadi haus opened and Daed emerged. The twins followed, and when they caught sight of me, they raced past him. My concern deepened. Why were the boys in the daadi haus instead of in their own bed? “Onkel Seth, we get to spend the night with Grossmammi and Grossdaadi!” Luke shouted, skidding to a halt in front of me.
Not to be outdone, Mark elbowed him out of the way. “We will have our own beds!”
“Cushions on the floor,” Luke reminded him.
“That will be fun,” I told them.
Daed approached, and I searched his face. The worry I found there twisted a knot in my stomach.
“Go back inside and tell Grossmammi that Seth is here. He will be hungry for supper.” When they sped away, he spoke in a gravelly whisper. “Saloma’s baby is coming.”
Alarm buzzed in my head. “It’s early, is it not?”
“Ya, she is early by several weeks.”
I did a quick calculation. “The baby is due in June. That is more than three weeks. Is she going to the hospital?”
When he shook his head, pain began throbbing in my temple.
“Noah has gone for the midwife. Joan and Becky are with Saloma. Come and pray with the rest of us.” He turned toward the daadi haus.
“Midwife?” My shout filled the air around us. “A woman in labor before her time needs to go to the hospital!”
His brow creased with a heavy frown. “That is not for you to say. Now come and pray.”
“It is for me to say! She needs help before it is too late.”
I took off at a run toward the main house, my father calling after me. Blood roared in my ears, propelled by my racing heart. As I reached the door, I was dimly aware that Daed had hurried as quickly as his shuffling gait allowed for the daadi haus. Fine. Let them pray. I would not stand by and watch my bruder’s wife die in childbirth.
Bursting through the door, I shouted as I dashed up the stairs. “Mamm, get her dressed. She is going to the hospital.”
I burst into the bedroom Saloma shared with Aaron, to find three stunned faces turned toward me.
Disapproval descended on Mamm’s features. “Get out, Seth. This is not proper.”
“I care nothing for being proper.”
She winced at my volume, but I turned to Saloma. She lay in bed, pillows propped behind her. Sweat gleamed on her brow and plastered her unbound hair to her head.
Becky jumped up from her chair and rushed at me. “What is the matter with you?” She placed her hands on my chest and shoved. “Leave!”
Hardly aware of my actions, I grabbed her wrists and forced her arms down. My gaze fixed on Saloma, I pleaded. “Please come with me to the hospital. This baby comes too early. The doctors will help you. Please.”
Hands grabbed me from behind, and I found myself pulled forcibly from the room. Becky slammed the bedroom door. I whirled and found myself looking into my bruder’s furious face. “You have no business here.”
“Why won’t anyone listen to me?” I threw my head back and yelled toward the ceiling. “Why won’t anyone help her before it’s too late?”
His grip on my arms firm, Aaron propelled me down the stairs with a force I had never seen in my peace-loving bruder. A lifetime of farm work had given him such strength that I could not twist away from him.
When we reached the living room, he whirled me around to face him. “She. Is. My. Wife!” He ground out the words, his jaw clamped shut. “Not yours.”
My head felt as if it would explode. Pressure throbbed in my temples, and Aaron’s face blurred as tears filled my eyes.
“Then help her—” I choked on the words.
His chest heaved several times, and finally he released my arms. He spoke in an even tone, though still with force. “The midwife told us it is not uncommon for second babies to come sooner, especially after twins. She will be fine.”
“But what if the midwife is wrong?” A sob squeezed my voice tight, and I did not even care.
Understanding softened his gaze. “Seth, it is Saloma upstairs. Not Rachel. You know that, ya?”
Of course I know that! I wanted to shout. But I couldn’t force any sound from my throat.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Turning, I saw Saloma, supported on either side by Mamm and Becky. She still wore her nightdress.
“I think Seth is right.” A shudder rippled through her body, and she closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she spoke to Aaron. “I want to go to the hospital.”
Such relief washed over me that my knees threatened to give out. I fumbled for a chair and sank into it.
Aaron crossed the room to stand before his wife. “Are you sure?”
Her gaze slid past him and locked on to my face. “I am sure.”
Mamm spoke then. “Seth, will you fetch Kevin? The hour is late, but I think he will be willing to drive us.”
Nodding, I launched myself out of the chair and left the house, sending a heartfelt prayer of thanks toward the night sky.
SEVENTEEN
I paced in the hospital waiting room like a nervous husband.
When I’d banged on Kevin Cramer’s door the night before and explained our need, he had immediately put on his shoes and coat. Doris Cramer told me she would pray for Saloma, which touched me nearly to the point of tears. They were good people, the Cramers. Mennonite, which was as close to being Amish as an Englisch person could get.
By the time Orion and I got back home, Aaron was helping Saloma into the car. Mamm also insisted on going, but Becky would stay home with the children. No one protested when I slid onto the front seat. After my emotional outburst, they were probably afraid to question me. If they had, I would not have had an answer. All I knew was I could not stay home, waiting through the night for news that could not come until the next day when a phone call to the Cramers would be possible.
Mamm sat on a chair in the corner of the waiting room, alternating between bowing her head in prayer and casting cauti
ous glances at me. I avoided looking at her. Now that we had delivered Saloma safely into the hands of a doctor, shame had begun to creep over me. My behavior was inexcusable. The rage that had overtaken me frightened me. I had laid forceful hands on Becky when she tried to shove me from the bedroom. Unforgivable. I’d struggled with Aaron to escape his grip. Intolerable. I had even shouted at my own daed. In short, I had sinned against those I loved most, and guilt burned like acid in my gut.
The clock on the wall read four thirty when Aaron finally entered the waiting room wearing a green paper outfit. Mamm hurried across the room to stand at his side. He looked exhausted, his eyes red and his skin drawn.
But he wore a huge grin. “A girl. I have a dochder.”
I closed my eyes against another disturbing wave of tears. He would not smile with such pride if the news was bad.
“She is okay?” Mamm clasped her hands beneath her chin. “She is healthy?”
The grin faded. “She is healthy but very small. Only four pounds six ounces. They have taken her to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit and say she must stay there for a few weeks.” He crossed the floor to stand in front of me, holding my gaze. “The doctor said if we had not been here, she would most likely have died.”
My bruder grabbed me in a hug and pulled me close. The embrace, so uncharacteristic for us, took me by surprise. Then I wrapped my arms around him and clung until I had a firm grip on the tears that threatened.
“Danke, Seth,” he whispered before releasing me.
I swallowed a few times and then asked in a husky voice, “Saloma is okay?”
His smile returned. “She is fine and also grateful. We are both thanking Gott for you.”
Shaking my head, I released a pent-up breath. “I behaved like a crazed man. I sinned against my family and need to ask your forgiveness.” I included Mamm with a glance in her direction.
“All is forgiven.” Aaron’s gaze dropped away for a moment before returning to my face filled with concern. “But we are worried about you. Such behavior is not like you, Seth.”
The Amish Widower Page 21
