“We never did that. Rachel and I. Don’t think that of her.”
Ben reluctantly returned his gaze to Aaron. “Ja, I know that now.”
Aaron pivoted to stride a few steps and stab the pitchfork into a bale of straw lying in front of an empty stall. Dust and small bits of yellow chaff flew into the air and Ben tightened his hands on his own pitchfork handle when Aaron unexpectedly kicked the bale. He blinked in surprise when his bruder heaved a heavy sigh and turned to sink down upon it.
“That was part of the problem.”
“What?” Ben cocked his head at the unexpected response.
“I didn’t ever think of her...that way.” Aaron rested his chin on fisted hands propped up by his elbows on his knees. “Rachel is a wunderbar girl. Fun. An easy companion. I don’t think there’s a better girl in the district. But as time went, I began to think of her more as a schweschder than a girlfriend. I still love her...but not in that way. Surely there’s something more in a married relationship than that?” He regarded Ben as if his bruder might have an answer.
Ben thought of how much he loved his wife. Deeply, in so many ways, but none of them sisterly. Aaron was right to wonder.
“I didn’t know what to do. Everyone had expectations for us. Her mamm. Our parents. The whole community. The thought of marrying her and having her as a wife forever...” He shook his head. “But I didn’t want to hurt her, or embarrass her publicly by breaking up right before everyone expected a wedding.”
“Disappearing instead wasn’t a promising alternative.” Ben’s jaw tightened as he recalled the pain Rachel went through.
Aaron ducked his head. “I know. I was a coward. I don’t care for conflict or the thought of hurting someone. It’s pretty sad when you’re glad to be kicked by a horse. Probably too bad I didn’t get kicked in the head. I was relieved when I broke my arm and my baptism was delayed. There was so much pressure to be baptized and then married. I still wasn’t sure what I wanted. And even if we did marry, I needed a way to support her. But I hurt her anyway. I hurt both of you.” His gaze met Ben’s wide eyes. “For that I’m sorry.”
Ben didn’t know if he’d be able to stay upright without the support of the pitchfork.
Aaron snorted. “I actually came back to be baptized. Marry Rachel. Here I came to be noble and go through with it all. You wouldn’t even let me do that. Just like things got before I’d left, you’d already done it for me. I think that’s what upset me so. The shock of how things had changed and all the self-debating I went through before finally determining to do the honorable thing and live up to everyone’s expectations.” Pushing to his feet, he stepped toward Ben.
“Do you still love her?” Ben watched his bruder approach. The answer made all the difference, but he couldn’t make the question more than a whisper.
“Ja. But not in the way you do.” Aaron clamped his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Maybe it was prophetic of me to think of her as a sister, because that’s what she is now. My sister-in-law.”
“I couldn’t leave things the way they ended yesterday. Our relationship means too much to me.”
Aaron squeezed his shoulder. “Me too.”
“I’m afraid she still loves you.”
Aaron winced. “We’ll work around that.”
Tension seeped from Ben. With Aaron willingly yielding the field, somehow, someway, he and Rachel would work it out. He couldn’t suppress the silly grin that slipped onto his face. “Maybe she just needs to get to know you better. You’d only shown her your charming side. And I know from experience, it’s very limited.”
Aaron released Ben’s shoulder with a brotherly shove. Ben didn’t budge. “Why waste charm on a little bruder? They’re stuck with you anyway.” His eyes narrowed on Ben as he smiled crookedly. “Maybe along with mucking out a stall, I should’ve coached you on how to be charming to women. But, as you’ve somehow managed to be married anyway, I guess I’ll have to take my charm and find another woman to practice it on.”
“You won’t find a better one.”
“I can tell you believe that. I’m glad for you.” Aaron observed Ben solemnly. “I’m glad for Rachel, as well. Loving her like a sister, I want the best for her. And I know she won’t find a better man than the one she has.”
Ben glanced away. He couldn’t respond for the lump in his throat. When he looked back to his brother, Aaron was smiling ruefully.
Aaron sighed exaggeratingly. “I guess, since I’m back, hopefully there’s someone worthy out there I can scare up.” Aaron turned to jerk the pitchfork from the straw bale. “In the meantime, I’ll show you that, even though it’s been awhile, I can still outwork my little bruder.”
“I don’t know.” Shifting his pitchfork to one hand, Ben strode over to a half-filled wheelbarrow. “I had a gut teacher.”
“I don’t suppose you need a car,” Aaron mused as he entered the empty stall behind him.
“No more than you do,” Ben replied, pushing the wheelbarrow within his bruder’s reach.
“Maybe I can find some young fool entering his rumspringa. They think they know everything then.”
The two brothers set to work. Ben didn’t know what Aaron’s thoughts were, but his, now that he’d worked up the courage to resolve the relationship from his past, were on how to bolster his courage even more to resolve the vital one of his future.
Chapter Seventeen
Only exhaustion had freed Rachel from her thoughts and allowed her to sleep last night. When Ben didn’t come in after chores, her anxiety, already high, ratcheted up another degree. She wanted to talk with him. She needed to talk with him. She’d intended to this morning, but he’d left instead—to where, she didn’t know. By the time his rig finally pulled into the lane later in the morning, she’d almost worn a path in linoleum pacing to the window. Aaron’s return had fractured the relationship she and Ben had worked so hard to create. Would they be able to mend it again?
Her heart thudded when Ben stepped into the kitchen. Its cadence, which marginally calmed when his gaze—touching first on her, then on Amelia in her arms—accelerated again when a smile tipped his lips. Relieved, confused, Rachel could do no more than return a mute stare.
In the silence that pulsed throughout the tidy room, Ben finally spoke. “I saw Isaiah Zook this morning. He’s planning to move some more steers over here. I need to finally get that bunk fixed.”
Rachel rested a hip against the counter. Was he expecting her to balk at the news? It wasn’t the conversation she wanted, needed, but after yesterday, at least they were talking. But this was Ben’s choice of topic after that emotional upheaval? She glanced at the nearby open door, where Miriam was currently emptying the manual washing machine. The conversation she wanted didn’t need an audience, even a sympathetic one. She’d have to find a more solitary time and place to initiate it.
At her hesitant nod, Ben continued, “I’ll be working on it for the rest of the morning. Call me when lunch is ready?”
Once more, Rachel nodded. Ben opened his mouth to speak, only to close it when his gaze also lit on where Miriam was visible doing laundry. But his hesitant smile lifted even more, until there was a slight promise that the dimple Rachel had grown to treasure might put in an appearance. What did it mean? She was left to wonder as he turned and went out the door.
And wonder she did. Through feeding the twins and putting them in their cradles. Through preparing a casserole while Miriam took the laundry to hang on the clothesline. Through washing up utensils. While doing so, Rachel glanced out the kitchen window at the loud rattle being generated from the farmyard. Ben had emptied the pen in order to work. The steers, now shut in the pasture along with Billy and the other bulls, were roughhousing with each other. Some were knocked against the metal gate that kept them from the pen where Ben was repairing the feed bunk. She furrowed her brow as the gate lifted upon the pressure of one of
the many broad black-and-white heads that crowded against it. The rusty gate dropped back down with a squeak, followed by a bang.
Frowning, Rachel’s attention moved from the cattle to the man currently sawing a board at the opposite side of the bare dirt pen. She envied him the physical task, knowing busy hands calmed the mind. She’d known he’d wanted to fix it for a while, but events—his injury, the arrival of the boppeli—had forestalled it. Maybe the bunk needed mending right at this moment. Or maybe it was just an excuse to get out of the house. And away from her and a needed conversation?
But that’s not what his parting smile had said. Although not actually speaking, Rachel snorted—that was Ben’s way—his smile had said...hope. Hope for them to find a way through the shock of Aaron’s return? Hope and a way the three of them could reside harmoniously together going forward in the community?
Rachel knew her heartache of yesterday wasn’t because she wanted to be with Aaron. Ja, she cared for him and hoped that he could find happiness somehow. But she’d realized her shock and grief at his return had been for the impact to her and Ben’s growing relationship. She’d become...happy with Ben. Very happy. The thought of continuing to build a life with him and their children made her want to crow like an overzealous rooster.
Did he have any inkling of how she felt? Rachel’s fingers clenched on the sink as Ben paused sawing for a lingering look toward the house. She’d been one who’d needed to be told she was appreciated in order to feel worthy. Just because Ben wasn’t one for saying the words didn’t mean he never wanted to hear them. Did he know her feelings for Aaron had faded away? That it’d been an annual blooming in its time and not a perennial that would grow stronger every year, like her feelings for Ben?
How could he know, if she hadn’t told him?
Rachel discarded the possibility of talking to him in the evening. By the time the boppeli were put to bed—with the knowledge they would wake again in a few hours—both she and Ben would be tired. Too tired for this type of discussion. Besides, he didn’t seem to welcome deep conversations. Facing a reluctant communicator in a quiet room with only the ticking of the wall clock could get awkward. Much better to talk with him when his hands were busy and there were other distractions. And if the conversation didn’t go well—Rachel drew in a shaky breath at the possibility—it would be easier to be outside and return to the house on some premise than have the discussion later that night and need to retreat silently to her bedroom after a stilted talk.
Scanning the kitchen, she looked for some excuse to go outside. As Miriam stepped back inside with an empty laundry basket, Rachel’s gaze landed on a pitcher drying on the dish rack.
“I’m taking a glass of lemonade out to Ben. I’ll be back shortly. Call me if the twins wake up.” Snagging the pitcher and hastily making the lemonade, Rachel poured a glass and headed for the door.
Crossing the porch, she steadied herself with a few deep breaths. She was going to tell her husband she cared for him. Surely brides did that all the time. Although most do it before they’re married. And probably definitely before they have two children. Rachel grimaced as lemonade sloshed out of the glass over her trembling hand. At this rate, she’d be fortunate to have anything in the glass by the time she reached him. Focusing on Ben, bent over the end of the bunk as he hammered in a board, she started across the driveway, the gravel barely noticeable under the summer-toughened soles of her feet.
In the months they’d lived there, she’d never been all the way across the gravel to the strip of grass along the pen fence. Except for when Ben, severely injured, had been lying under the bunk. She was relieved that now, like then, the lot was empty. Otherwise, she didn’t know if she’d be able to get close enough to hand Ben the glass, much less stay and talk.
How should she start this vital conversation? Rachel searched for words to say after would you like some lemonade? Should she make small talk? Ask about the cattle, as they were right there in their domain? Her lips twitched. That’d surprise Ben and throw him off balance. Maybe that’s what he needed. Also, it would show him she was interested in what he was interested in. Hopefully easing from that into what she was interested in. Whom she cared for. Whom she loved.
Looking toward the pasture gate to get some conversation inspiration from the black-and-white beasts, Rachel stumbled to a halt, sloshing lemonade. While the other cattle had drifted away from the gate to graze in the pasture, over the top white rails she could see the big black back of the bull, Billy. She’d grown used to seeing him standing by the secured gate, broodingly watching the steers when they were in the pen. But something was wrong. Was he in the pasture or in the pen? For a moment, she couldn’t tell. Her frantic gaze finally located the gate, sagging low to the ground next to the deserted post used to secure it.
Billy was loose in the pen.
His attention was fixed on Ben, still bent over his task and unaware of the present danger. The mostly black head was lowered and visible between the white rails. Chills ran up Rachel’s spine at the bull’s large, protruding eyes. As he pawed the bare dirt, clods of it flew up to dust the black sleekness of his arched back.
Her gaze darted back to her unsuspecting husband. Rachel opened her mouth to scream. To her horror, no sound resonated in warning. Her breath was locked in her chest. Her feet frozen on the gravel of the driveway. As she watched the bull’s stealthy progress across the pen, unbidden, a thought prickled into her mind.
A widow would be free to marry again.
And no one would be surprised to see a man marry his deceased bruder’s young widow and take responsibility for his kinder.
Rachel clenched her hand, the ridged design of the glass cutting into her white-knuckled fingers. For a moment, she stared at it blankly. A second later, lemonade splashed over the gravel as her arm cocked. Breaking free of her rigid stupor, she lunged forward. Finding her voice, Rachel yelled at the top of her lungs. Still a few feet from the fence, she launched the glass into the pen. It fell beside one large cloven hoof. The bull didn’t turn his broad head.
But when Rachel smacked into the fence and scrambled up it, she had his attention. Climbing up until the top rail pressed against her hips, Rachel leaned over it, waving her hands above her head while shrieking for all she was worth. Billy spun to face this new challenge. As Rachel sucked in a breath for another scream, her heart stuttered at the bull’s rumbling huffs. She couldn’t risk a glance away to confirm Ben had been alerted to the danger.
With a mighty bellow, Billy charged.
Rachel’s piercing scream was squelched when hands grabbed about her waist and jerked her backward off the rails. Breathless from surprise and the tumble to the ground, she flinched when the fence cracked as Billy hit it. The post leaned, but held. Dirt flew as the bull nimbly spun to peer through the rails with his bulging eyes. Rachel’s heartbeat hammered in her ears as he banged his head against what now seemed a flimsy barrier. With a final snort, Billy pivoted and arrogantly trotted away.
All the energy vaporized from Rachel. Her head flopped back against the moving pillow that cradled it.
“Are you all right?” The question rumbled as much from Ben’s chest beneath her ear as from his frantic tone behind her head.
For a moment, Rachel’s rapid panting prevented an answer. She realized, as her head was bobbing up and down in its position on Ben, he was breathing briskly, as well. Knowing her head was nodding in an accidental affirmation to his question struck her as funny. Was this shock? She began to giggle. Feeling his racing heartbeat under her ear and knowing he was safely there with her, that the bull hadn’t hurt him, overwhelmed her with emotion. A few sobs joined the giggles until she was crying in earnest.
Twisting, she pressed her cheek against his chest, curling her fingers into his shirt as she wet it with her tears. Carefully holding her, Ben struggled to sit up. “Rachel! Rachel! Did he hurt you?”
Shakin
g her head, she sniffed loudly. “Nee,” she confirmed nasally.
“What is it then?” Urgent concern punctuated his words.
“I’m just so glad he didn’t hurt you.” She continued to shake her head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you so much.”
Ben’s heart rate under her ear picked up even as he went motionless. Rachel stilled, as well. Drawing a few shuddering breaths, she lifted her gaze to meet his stunned blue eyes. Dazedly shifting into a seated position on the grass, he pulled Rachel into his lap, positioning her so they still faced each other.
“When? How?” His face tightened fractionally. “Is it because of the boppeli?”
“Ja,” she admitted. “It’s because of the boppeli.”
The dismay on his face would’ve been imperceptive, except that she knew it so well. Lifting her hand, she laid it against his cheek. “If it weren’t for the boppeli, I might’ve missed you. And I can’t bear the thought of that.”
Ben’s eyes glowed. Turning his head slightly, he kissed the palm of her hand.
Miriam came out on the porch. With a concerned frown at the sight of them on the ground, she hastened down the steps. “Is everything all right?”
Glancing at each other, they grinned. Rachel felt his dimple crease under her hand. She’d been scrutinizing the boppeli, hoping at least one might have their daed’s dimples. “Ja. Everything is all right. Everything is really gut, in fact.”
Regarding them oddly, Miriam shook her head and returned to the house.
Rachel brought her hand down. “She probably thinks we’re nuts.”
“We are. Or at least I am. I’m nuts about you. And maybe both of us together. We didn’t go about this marriage in the normal way. Boppeli first, then marriage. Followed lastly by a clumsy courtship.” Ben cradled her in his arms. Rachel felt his kiss against her hair. “Any regrets about the way things worked out?”
Their Surprise Amish Marriage Page 17
