by Tricia Goyer
“Wow, I don’t know what to say.”
“From the look in your eyes, it would be, ‘What happened to the old Carrie?’” She chuckled.
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”
Carrie rose and carried her coffee mug to the kitchen. “She’s gone, hopefully for good. Well, some of her. I do still know how to make some mean pancakes if you’re hungry.”
“Starved.”
Carrie smiled. “Great, and after I whip them up I want to hear about you, especially about the girl in the song.”
Ben watched as Carrie made breakfast, and they talked about old friends and how they were doing. Most of Ben’s old music buddies were living the same wild life. A life Ben didn’t miss.
When they finally sat down to eat, Ben knew he wasn’t going to get out of her questions this time.
“So, tell me about this young woman. You know, the one in the song.”
Ben took a small pile of pancakes and put them on his plate, covering them with syrup. “Who says there’s a girl? Maybe I just made it up. If everyone had to be in love before they wrote a love song, then we’d be hurting for some good music.”
Carrie took a big bite of her pancakes. She cocked one eyebrow, and he could tell she didn’t buy it.
“If you’re a good Christian boy, like my dad says you are, I don’t think you should be lying like this.” She smirked.
Ben nearly choked on his pancakes. Then he took a large drink from his orange juice, washing it down. “Okay, there is someone. She moved here from Indiana this spring. She—” Ben considered telling Carrie she worked at Kootenai Kraft and Grocery, but then he changed his mind. Driving up there—deep into the mountains—and checking her out was just the type of thing Carrie would do.
“Really, an Indiana girl? Is she a musician too?”
“No.” The memory pierced his mind of the one time Marianna held his guitar but he pushed it away. “She works a little. She quilts. She has younger siblings and helps her mom with that. And . . . she makes the best pies and cookies.”
“So basically she’s a young Betty Crocker.” Carrie placed her fork on her plate and wiped her mouth. “That really doesn’t seem like your type. Let me guess. Does she wear a skirt and pearls while she cooks?”
Ben frowned at Carrie’s harsh laugh. Clearly, she was bothered by what he’d said. Maybe because Marianna was everything Carrie wasn’t.
“So, why did they move here? I mean West Kootenai of all places.”
Ben opened his mouth, his mind racing. Heat rose to his cheeks. “Um, just for adventure. Doesn’t everyone want to live in Montana? Experience the Wild West?” Once the words were out he wanted to take them back. Why had he lied?
Because, his mind tried to convince him, it would take so much time to go into it all, to talk about Levi and his influence on the kids . . . about all that had happened.
Carrie narrowed her gaze studying him.
What had gotten into him? Why can’t I just come out and say that Marianna’s Amish? In West Kootenai the Amish were their friends and neighbors. They were highly respected. But here . . . Ben swallowed hard. He was protecting Marianna, he supposed. Protecting her privacy, heading off any smart-aleck comments Carrie would make.
Ben rose and picked up his empty plate. “Hey, I’d love to stick around and talk about my love interest, but I really should head to the studio and get to work before your dad gets up. There’s a bridge he wants me to work on, and I’ve already been a sloth.”
Carrie nodded and looked away, but not before he saw the hurt in her eyes. She thought he didn’t trust her with knowing more about Marianna. And the truth was, he didn’t. Carrie was sweet now, but he’d seen another side of her.
And there was no way he would risk setting that side loose on Marianna.
CHAPTER TWENTY
As she swept the floor for the second time that morning, Marianna couldn’t help but appreciate Aaron’s four sketches hanging over the back wall, behind the cash register. Like Annie promised, she’d framed them, and they looked good enough to hang in an art gallery—not that Marianna had ever been in a gallery. She just supposed that Aaron’s sketches looked as good as any she’d find there.
Marianna studied them, and her eyes widened. Annie asked a few hundred dollars each for them. A sticker on the front read Amish Art. She didn’t how art was valued, but it seemed like a lot. That would help with Aaron’s train ticket home and whatever he still needed back at his house—
She pushed the thought aside. She’d been working hard not to think about where she stood with all that—him returning to Indiana, her going with him or staying.
“Marianna, could I ask you for a favor?” Annie usually looked refreshed on Mondays, but not today.
“Sure, although since this is a job, and you pay me—I don’t think it’s a favor, rather another item on my to-do list.” She smiled.
“Actually, it’s a little of both. A favor and something on your to-do list.” Annie moved to the rack that held the bread, pulled off a fresh loaf and a package of cookies, and placed them on the counter near the front register.
“Jenny called, and Kenzie’s sick. I could hear Kenzie coughing in the background. Jenny won’t be coming in today.”
Marianna continued to sweep chunks of mud off the floor near the front door. Boots usually came in caked with ice, snow, and mud, which fell off in clumps. The snow and ice melted, leaving only clumps of dried mud.
Annie scooted past Marianna and pulled a half-gallon of milk from the refrigerator case. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind going over to their house for the day?”
“To deliver groceries?”
“Yeah, and just to give Jenny a break. She sounded exhausted. Maybe watch Kenzie for a while so Jenny can get a nap. Edgar’s out sick today, too, but I called Sarah, and she can come in to take your shift. I’ll pay you as normal.”
“Ja, ja, I can do it, but you can’t pay me.”
“Yes, I can. It’s going on your time card. Work is work and your time is time.” Annie brushed her long, blonde ponytail from her shoulder.
Marianna didn’t argue. She could use the money—it was true—especially since Dat had extra expenses now with another mouth to feed. Aaron had been faithful to give her parents some money, which they didn’t expect and almost didn’t take, but Marianna could see a difference in the way they lived with Aaron there. Mem cooked bigger meals, of more expensive food—all of which they had to buy since they’d left their storehouse back in Indiana. Mem washed everything more often too. Every day Mem strung laundry upstairs to dry. On days Mem washed sheets and blankets, they filled the living room.
Marianna shook her head. Would Mem ever relax? Amish women considered slothfulness the greatest sin. It was bad enough when someone from the community came for a visit, but to have Aaron in her home . . . she doubted Mem ever sat.
“If you double-bag those groceries to take to her, it’ll work better.” Marianna pointed to the grocery sacks. “I don’t want the snow soggying up the bag as I walk.”
“Walk? Oh no, I should’ve mentioned, I’ve called Ben. He was out delivering furniture today and doesn’t mind swinging by to give you a ride.”
She should refuse. Jenny didn’t live more than a mile away. But she pressed her lips tight and didn’t say a word. The truth was, she’d like a ride, not because she was getting lazy, but because Ben hadn’t been far from her thoughts. When he wasn’t around, she missed him.
As if her thoughts had been a beacon, drawing him in, the door opened and Ben strode in. He was looking at his boots, stomping them on the doormat as he entered. When he glanced up he almost jumped back, seeing her there.
“Marianna.” Her name escaped like a breath from his lips.
“Ja, you seem surprised.”
He studied her for a moment. “I’m not surprised, but I’d just forgotten.”
“Really? What did you forget?”
“How beautiful you are.” As soon as
the words were out of his mouth his jaw dropped, as if he didn’t believe he’d just said them.
Marianna’s stomach did a flip. She didn’t know how to respond to that. “Well, I forgot how much mud your boots bring in.” She wagged the broom at him. “Couldn’t you have come barefoot? It would’ve saved me time from cleaning up such a mess.” She laughed.
Ben nodded but the shocked look he wore transformed into one of sadness, and for a split second she thought he would cry.
“What’s wrong?” Worry filled her. She hadn’t heard why he’d left town and suddenly hoped it wasn’t a serious problem. Had he lost someone he loved? Or maybe they’d been injured. “Are you okay? Everything’s all right, isn’t it?”
“Everything’s all right, but I’m not.” He pressed his hand to his forehead as if trying to figure out how to explain. “I’ve just been sticking my foot in my mouth lately. Saying what I shouldn’t. Not saying what I should.”
Marianna glanced down at his boots. “Well, in that case I hope you like the taste of mud, because if you put that foot in, that’s what you’re gonna get.”
Laughter spurt from Ben’s mouth and he shook his head, then he eyed her. “I’ve never met another woman like you, Marianna Sommer. Your manner of dress is plain, but inside you’re anything but. That kapp and apron can’t hide how special you are.”
A smile lifted her lips, then she pushed it back down. No one in her community said such things to each other. Yet she did like it. She especially liked that Ben was saying those things—which made matters even worse.
She put the broom back behind the counter and grabbed her coat from the hook. “Will you do me a favor? Would you grab those bags of groceries? This special girl needs to run back to the kitchen and get a pumpkin pie I have cooling on the rack.
Ten minutes later they were pulling into the driveway of a small single wide trailer. Ben’s mood had lightened, but Marianna could still see from his eyes that something wasn’t right.
“You coming in to say hello to Jenny and Kenzie?”
Ben shook his head. “Nah, not today. I have to get this delivery up the road, but tell Kenzie I said hi and hope she’s getting better.” He paused, as if something just occurred to him. “Actually ”—he reached for the door—“I should help you carry that up.”
He grabbed the bag of groceries from the seat between them and got out of the truck. Marianna took the pie and followed. As they approached, she saw the curtain next to the door flutter back into place, as if someone had been looking out, watching them.
Then, just as they climbed the steps, Jenny opened the door and stepped out. “Hey there. Annie said you were coming.” She forced a smile. “Thanks so much.” Her feet were bare and she wore a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She had to be freezing. Marianna was shivering, and she wore a thick coat and a bonnet over her cap.
Ben approached with the bag. “I can carry this inside if you’d like.”
Jenny reached for the bag. “I can get it. No problem.” She took it from his hands. “Thanks for giving Marianna a ride, that was nice of you.” Puffs of frosty air escaped Jenny’s mouth as she spoke.
“Okay then.” Ben looked back at Marianna, then headed to his truck. “I do have to get to work anyway.”
Marianna turned and watched him leave. It was only after the truck pulled out of the driveway that Jenny opened the door again.
“Sorry about that. Kenzie’s been sick, and I haven’t had much time to clean up lately. I didn’t want Ben to see the house like this.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. I have five younger siblings at home. I know what it’s like.”
Jenny nodded as she stepped inside. “That’s what I figured.” She motioned for Marianna to follow, and she hurried in. It was warmer than outside, but not the same warmth as when walking in the door at home. There weren’t the wonderful smells of her mother’s cooking, either.
“Excuse the mess,” Jenny muttered once again before shutting the door.
Marianna glanced around. The noise of the television assaulted her first. How could people put up with that? She stepped over shoes strewn about, noted a small jacket on the floor, along with toys and dirty paper plates. Was this how all Englisch lived? She couldn’t imagine Annie living like such. Annie always seemed tidy at work—but then, so did Jenny.
“Sorry it’s a little messy around here, Kenzie’s been sick and I haven’t been feeling well either,” Jenny said yet another time.
As if proving her mother right, Kenzie’s small cough sounded across the room. Marianna followed the sound to the small girl stretched out, lying on her stomach and watching what appeared to be some type of children’s program on the small television. She wore a thin night dress and her bare feet were lifted in the air, swinging to the tune playing for the dancing, fuzzy puppets. Scattered around the couch were various toys, including a Bible storybook that was open, and from the look of it, had some additional help from Kenzie coloring its pages.
“No problem. I can help if you like. I know how life with little ones can be.”
A half-dozen empty soda cans littered the counter between the living room and kitchen. Jenny pushed them aside and put the sack of groceries in their place. Marianna’s eyes scanned the rest of the counter, looking for a spot to place the pie. It was covered with dirty dishes.
Following her gaze, Jenny pointed to a small dining room table. “Just find a spot on there. Wow, that pie looks good.”
“I made it this morning. Maybe next week I’ll teach you how to make one.”
“Yeah.” Jenny nodded, her short ponytail bobbing. “I’d like that.”
Marianna pushed a ketchup bottle to the side and piled a few plates on top of each other to make room for the pie. She tried not to look around at the mess, and instead focused on Jenny’s face, remembering why she was here.
Jenny forced a smile. “You said there are kids around your house. I know you live with your parents, but are any of them yours?”
“Oh no.” Marianna laughed. “Not my children, my brothers and sisters. I have five younger siblings and one older—but the older one lives in Indiana still.”
“Wow, that’s a ton.”
Marianna nodded, taking off her coat and hanging it on a chair back. Then she stepped over a newspaper that had been trampled on. “Ja, ja, I suppose.” She didn’t tell Jenny that her family was small by some Amish standards. The young woman appeared to be having enough trouble with just one child.
“Well, what can I do?” Marianna clasped her hands together. The wind outside rattled the windows, and she resisted the urge to rub her hands together. A shiver moved up her spine and she tried to ignore it but couldn’t keep her shoulders from trembling.
“It’s chilly in here, I know. This place isn’t very well insulated and it cost a few hundred dollars last month just to keep from freezing.”
“I’m warm enough, but do you have warmer clothes for Kenzie? That might help her feel better.”
Jenny glanced behind her and yawned. “Yeah, she does look cold, and she hasn’t eaten all morning. I bet she’s hungry too.”
“Cereal!” The young girl clapped her hands. Kenzie’s eyes were still focused on the television, but it was clear she knew what was going on.
“Tell you what.” Marianna moved toward the small girl, sitting at the end of the couch near her feet. “Why don’t you get some rest and I’ll take care of things here. Kenzie and I will have some fun, won’t we?”
Kenzie nodded, even though her eyes stayed focused on the television screen.
Jenny yawned again and moved down the hall to the back room. “Thanks, Marianna. I owe you one.”
The first thing Marianna did was to get Kenzie into warm clothes. The second, turn off the television.
Kenzie folded her arms over her chest, and her bottom lip popped out. “Hey, I was watching that.”
“I know, but don’t you want to help me make lunch?” Marianna stretched out her hand.
&nb
sp; Kenzie shrugged. “I dunno how to cook.”
“Well, that’s perfect. I’ll show you.”
Marianna led Kenzie to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There were only a few items inside. She checked the cupboard and noticed there wasn’t much there. In fact there were more groceries in the bag than there were in Jenny’s kitchen. Marianna put the food away and then turned to Kenzie. “How about a piece of pumpkin pie?”
“We’re going to cook pie?” Kenzie clapped.
“Actually, no. The pie is already made. In fact, I changed my mind. Why don’t we cook another day. I’ll bring over some special things.”
Kenzie wrinkled her nose, and Marianna could see her disappointment.
She cut Kenzie a piece of pie and poured her some milk. Now . . . how to turn cleaning into a game? As she thought about it, something stirred inside her. Cleaning could happen another day too. What Kenzie would appreciate most was just time—time without the television on. Time to have Marianna’s complete attention.
“Kenzie, do you have any favorite games? Or toys? I thought we could play something while your mom slept.”
“Barbies?” Kenzie put down her fork and rushed to the small room just off the living room. She returned a minute later with two dolls in questionable attire. Marianna tried to ignore that for now. As she held the plastic figure in her hand she thought how different it was from the dolls she had as a child—the dolls Ellie had. Amish dolls wore simple dress and had no faces painted on their wooden bodies because Amish parents didn’t want their children to have a “graven image.”
“Hi, I’m Barbie.” Kenzie spoke in a squeaky voice as her doll bounced on the table. “What’s your name?”
Marianna did the same with her doll, making it look like it was walking on those strangely shaped pointy toes. “I’m Marianna.”
“Hi, Marianna. You’re a little Marianna just like the big Marianna.”
“Yes, I suppose I am.”
