by Marta Perry
“I’m sure.” She’d never been more convinced of anything in her life.
“Well, then. Just you wait until Lydia hears. She’ll be so excited.”
“Ja, but don’t say anything, not to anyone, not yet. Promise?” Susanna wanted to hug the joy to herself a little longer, at least until Nate had actually said the words.
“Of course. I’m so glad you’re happy.”
But the momentary joy seemed to be fading from Chloe’s face. Susanna clasped her hand.
“Something’s wrong. I can tell. Is it Seth?”
Chloe’s face seemed to stiffen, as if it were a mask she wore to hide behind. “He’s given up his career. He’s going back to the church.”
For a moment Susanna could only stare at her. Poor Chloe. If only . . . “I’m so sorry for your hurt.”
Chloe’s façade didn’t shudder, and Susanna could only guess the cost of keeping it. “His family will be happy.” Chloe spoke as if her lips were numb.
Susanna nodded. Wasn’t that the dream of every Amish family with a son who had jumped the fence? That one day he’d realize what he’d lost and come back to take his rightful place? But she hadn’t thought Seth’s return would be at such a cost to her sister.
“Chloe, couldn’t you—”
“No. I can’t.” Chloe’s hands clenched into fists, and she turned away, probably so that Susanna couldn’t see her face. “I could never become Amish. For one thing it would break Grandmother’s heart. And for another . . .” She paused, and then went on, her tone painfully steady. “For another, unless two people really share their values, I don’t think marriage will work. And we don’t.”
Susanna went around the desk, longing to put her arms around Chloe but afraid of being rejected. “I’m so sorry,” she said again, feeling helpless.
Chloe straightened her shoulders. “I knew all along it could end this way. I can’t wish I’d never met him, because then I wouldn’t have found my sisters. But I should have been ready for it to turn out this way.”
“No one can be ready for a broken heart.” Susanna pressed her hand against her chest. Her sister’s pain seemed to be echoing in her own heart.
Chloe was already at the door. “I can’t talk about it anymore now. Maybe . . . maybe later.”
She went out quickly and closed the door. Susanna took an instinctive step after her, but she knew it was useless. Chloe was one who would hold her pain to herself. And even if she weren’t, what could Susanna say that would make her feel any better?
It seemed to her that both Seth and Chloe had been balancing between Amish and Englisch for as long as she’d known them. Now Seth had landed on the wrong side for Chloe.
* * *
Nate
shifted his position slightly in the rocking chair, trying to ease the discomfort of the heavy cast propped on the footstool, and frowned at the official-looking letter that had arrived in the day’s mail.
“I’m off now.” His sister appeared in the doorway, her bonnet in her hand. “My family will want feeding, too.”
“It was wonderful kind of them to spare you to cook for us. Not that you gave them a choice.” He smiled, knowing her husband’s mother had no doubt been happy to fix a meal for her son and grandchildren.
Donna grinned, her freckled face looking not so different than it had when she was chasing him around the apple tree in the backyard.
“Mamm Alice is making pot pie for her son, and he’ll tell her it’s better than mine even though we both know that it’s not true.”
Nate looked at her in mock surprise. “You mean you finally learned to cook?”
She swatted at him with the bonnet. “You just mind your manners. Tell Susanna everything is ready to come out of the oven. I finally got Mamm to go up and rest. She looked tired out, and it’s no wonder.”
“She does too much. She always has. And with all that’s going on, I couldn’t have picked a worse time to break my ankle.” He glared at the cast. “And now this.” He shook the letter he’d been studying.
“What is it?” Donna held out her hand, and he put the paper in it.
“More regulations, this time from the town. It seems like whatever you need to do to rebuild, there’s some government rule about it. By the time I have all those things done to the shop property, I’ll have more money in it than it’s worth.”
She handed the paper back to him. “By the sounds of this letter, you don’t have much choice.”
“There is another possibility.” He hadn’t talked to anyone about it yet, but Donna had a good head on her shoulders. “The town council is talking about using a grant they got to buy out some of the worst of the flooded properties in the west end. They’d put up an earthen levee and maybe turn the rest of the land into a walking path along the creek.”
She frowned. “You mean Mamm’s shop is one of the properties they want to buy?”
“It seems it’s one they are considering. If I sold the building to them, I wouldn’t have to deal with remodeling, because they’d just tear it down. No one else would be likely to buy it anyway, knowing how bad the flooding was.”
“I guess that’s true. But what about Mamm’s shop? You and I might think Mamm would be better off without the work and worry, but she has to be convinced.”
“It seems to me she’s not really thinking about herself. If she didn’t have Susanna to consider, I think she’d be happy to let the shop go.”
Donna nodded. “Ja, I think so, too. But there is Susanna to consider.”
He fixed his gaze firmly on the calendar on the opposite wall. “I think it possible that Susanna might soon have other things to occupy her time.”
Donna was quiet for a moment. Then she grabbed his shoulder and shook him, making the chair rock.
“Ouch. Watch what you’re doing. I have a broken ankle, remember?”
“I’ll give you a broken ankle,” she retorted. “Are you telling me that you and Susanna—”
“Nothing’s settled yet,” he said hastily, unable to keep the smile from his face. “So don’t you go blabbing about it to anybody.”
“All I can say is that it’s about time. You ought to start living again, and Susanna’s a dear.” She gave him a quick hug. “I’ve got to go, or they’ll think I got lost. I won’t tell a soul, but I’m happy for you.” She planted a kiss on his cheek and whirled out of the room.
He sat, still smiling. If anyone could see him they’d think he’d taken leave of his senses. He hadn’t. In fact, he’d come to his senses at last.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Seth
measured oats into a bucket and poured them into the feed pail in Blackie’s stall. Blackie nuzzled his arm before dropping her head to begin munching.
Patting her neck, he noticed the graying hair around her nose. She’d been a two-year-old when he’d left home, and much of those last months he’d spent training her to the buggy. Now she was showing signs of age.
Star, the gelding, whickered and stamped a hoof, indicating his impatience.
“All right, I’m coming.” Funny, that he’d spoken to the horse in English. He’d have to get used to using dialect most of the time.
Measuring out another pailful, he carried it to the stall and poured it in. Star tried to eat while it was still flowing into the feed pail.
“Greedy,” he said, giving Star’s neck a slap.
This might be his favorite part of his new life—these quiet moments in the barn at the end of the day.
Funny that Mamm hadn’t reacted the way he’d expected when he’d told her his decision. She’d been happy, yes, but there’d been questioning, even worry in her eyes and in the way she asked if he was sure.
That was natural, wasn’t it? It would take time for her to see that he was really serious, that he was doing the right thing. He’d spent too much time drifting
between two worlds, never really Englisch, never really Amish. He was doing the right thing.
If only it weren’t for Chloe.
That first day, when she’d thrown him out of her office, thinking him a con man, they’d struck sparks off each other. Once he’d become her guide to the Amish world of her family, he’d felt reassured because of that antagonism.
He should have known it was dangerous. He should have seen that antagonism was the flip side of attraction. But he hadn’t, or maybe the truth was that he hadn’t wanted to admit it. Now they were both paying the penalty for his carelessness. It seemed he couldn’t make a move without hurting someone.
Chloe would get over him. A woman like her would have a string of guys after her in no time at all.
The barn door hinges gave a protesting squeal, and Jessie came in. She stood for a moment, her back against the door, watching him.
“So, did Mamm tell you my news?” He swung himself up to the loft as he spoke. Bending over, he loosened a hay bale, the scent of it old and familiar. He began tossing flakes of hay down into each stall.
“She told me.” Jessie looked up at him, her face a pale oval in the light that filtered through the barn siding. “You were expecting a party, maybe?”
“What are you talking about?” Dusting the hay off his jeans, he scrambled back down the ladder to the barn floor, frowning at her.
“Telling Mamm you’re back to stay. That you’re going to get baptized and join the church. Be Plain again. You thought we’d celebrate.”
He eyed her. What was going on with Jessie? “I thought you’d be glad to have me back,” he said, his tone cautious. “Aren’t you?”
She shrugged, as if to indicate that it wasn’t important to her.
Her reaction nettled him, and he ignored Mamm’s warning to be careful how he spoke to her.
“What’s the matter with you and Mamm? Isn’t this what you want? I thought that’s what Mamm had been praying for all these years, for her erring boy to come back to the fold.”
Jessie moved a little closer, and he could see the skepticism in her face. It bothered him. Usually his little sister looked at him with a bit more approval, as if her big brother could do no wrong.
“Mamm probably wonders if you really mean it,” she said.
“I quit my job, didn’t I?” What more did they want?
“You could get another.” She sounded unimpressed. “Mamm knows you could.”
“So I’ll get rid of my Englisch clothes. My computer.” He couldn’t suppress a wince at the thought. Getting rid of his computer was like giving up a limb.
“You don’t want to do that, ain’t so?” She tilted her head, studying him as if he were a stranger.
He turned to check the latches on the stall doors, not eager to face that steady stare. “The computer is a symbol of who I was. Now I’m not going to be that person. Doesn’t that show I mean it?”
Jessie took a quick step toward him and grabbed his arm, tugging him around to face her. “Just tell me. Are you coming back because you believe in being Plain? Or because you feel responsible for us?”
He tried to avoid looking at her. She tightened her grip as if she’d shake an answer out of him.
His control seemed to shatter. “What difference does it make? I’m back, that’s all.”
“It matters.” Jessie’s voice rose, but with anger, not hysteria. “If you want to give up your life because I’m sick, don’t I get a say in that? Maybe I don’t want you to. What about Chloe? Doesn’t she get a say?”
He felt as if she’d slapped him. “I don’t want to talk about Chloe. Anyway, this is my decision.”
“Yours, yours,” she mocked. “Is that all you can think about? You jumped the fence thinking only of what you wanted. Now you’re coming back the same way.”
“That’s not true.” He’d never expected to be having such an argument with Jessie, of all people. His little sister seemed to have done some growing up.
“Isn’t it, Seth?” Her lips trembled suddenly, as if her anger had slipped away to be replaced by sorrow. “Mamm and I don’t want you to sacrifice your life for us. You think that will make us happy, knowing you’re miserable? And Chloe is a gut person. She cares, even when she doesn’t have to.”
Tears glistened in her eyes, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Stunned, both at the words and at her obvious feelings, Seth put his arms around her.
“It’s going to be all right,” he said, the way he had when she was toddling around after him and skinned her knee. “It will.”
She sniffled a little, hugging him tightly.
He wanted to take care of things for her. But how could he make it all right when he didn’t know what all right was anymore?
He dropped a kiss on her forehead and managed to smile at her—his little sister struggling against huge odds toward maturity. Maybe she was doing better than he was.
“Go on in the house, okay? I’ll be there. I just need a minute.”
He managed to hold it together until she’d vanished behind the barn door. Then he sank down on a bale of straw and buried his face in his hands.
Was Jessie right? Was that really who he was—a man who put his own wants first? Had he been kidding himself about making this big sacrifice for his family?
He was scared. The fear bubbled up from somewhere deep inside him. He’d let his family down when he went away. He’d hurt them. He hadn’t been there when Daad died, or when his older sister died. He’d let Mamm cope with Jessie’s illness on her own.
What if he did that again? What if he made a life with Chloe and then let her down? His heart twisted, hurting so that he pressed his hand to his chest.
Chloe. He saw again the pain she’d tried so hard to hide. She hadn’t succeeded. He’d seen it; he knew he’d caused it, and that terrified him.
He closed his eyes, and he couldn’t see anything but Chloe’s face . . . laughing at her nephews, earnest over her work, courageous when she fought the boat into the current to save others.
He saw her face when he’d told her he was staying, and suddenly he knew the truth behind the mask. Chloe . . . amazing, incomparable Chloe . . . loved him. Now, what was he going to do about it?
* * *
Susanna
had been surprised when Dora mentioned she was going to her daughter’s house after supper that evening, but glad Dora had felt like being out. She’d shooed her away when Dora had tried to help with the dishes and done the job herself.
It was strangely peaceful after all the busyness of the past weeks. The house was so quiet that Susanna could hear the rustle of pages as Nate read the newspaper in the living room. Content, that was what she was, with the familiar chore, the pleasant house, and the knowledge that Nate was only a few steps away.
The only cloud across her joy was for her sister. Poor Chloe. Her heart hurt for Chloe’s grief. If only she could do something to ease her pain.
The thump of crutches announced Nate’s arrival, and Susanna looked up. “You’re managing much better on those, ain’t so?”
“It’s getting easier, I guess. Not fast enough for me, though.”
That was predictable. “I think you wouldn’t be happy unless you could be putting in a full day’s work, even with the broken ankle.”
“I shouldn’t need my ankle to run the store,” he said. Balancing himself uneasily on the crutches, he leaned against the counter next to her.
She felt all thumbs with him watching her dry the dishes. “Did you want something? Some more coffee, maybe?”
“No. Well, I do want something.”
She reached for the towel to dry her hands. “Of course. What?”
“I want to know why you were looking so worried before I came in.” He nodded toward the living room. “I was watching you, and you seemed to have the weight
of the world on your shoulders.”
“It’s nothing,” she said.
He clasped her hands before she could pick up another dish, holding them firmly. “Tell me. Did something happen at the store that upset you?”
“No, nothing . . . well, nothing about the store.” She’d have to tell him. The touch of his hands seemed to be affecting her breathing. “Chloe stopped by to talk to me just when we were closing.”
She felt the slightest possible withdrawal from him at her sister’s name. Did he guess how Chloe felt about him?
“Is she having troubles?” He sounded concerned enough.
“It’s Seth. I felt so sure the two of them would get together. I know they care about each other. But Seth has decided to go back to the church, and poor Chloe is brokenhearted at losing him.”
Nate was silent long enough to make Susanna think how angry she’d be if he said something derogatory about her Englisch sister.
“I’m truly sorry,” he said finally. “I thought, just from seeing them together, how well matched they were. And I’m sorry it’s hurting you.”
Susanna looked at him with gratitude. He’d said exactly the right thing. “I felt as if I should have found some way to make her feel better. Maybe I’m not a very gut big sister, but then, I haven’t had much practice.”
“No.” He moved his thumbs along the backs of her hands, as gentle as if he was stroking a pet. “I’m sure you did what you could. Nobody can fix someone else’s broken heart.”
“I suppose. Maybe Lydia will do better. She’s a comforting sort of person.” Susanna had to shake her head at the strangeness of it all. “A month ago I barely knew them, but now I’ve accepted them as my sisters. I was so upset at first that I didn’t think it could happen, and certainly not that quickly.”
“It seems to me that things happen faster during a crisis.” Nate hadn’t let go of her hands, and he leaned closer to her. “We’ve all been caught up in the danger and the stress, and feelings come to the surface that might otherwise take months or years to grow.”
