“That’s nice of you to say, Thomas.” Susan took his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry. I really am trying to control my temper. And we did have some sweet times together. Remember the time I succeeded in throwing a snowball into your face? You looked so surprised. Like you never thought a girl could do that.”
“You have surprised me a lot of times.”
She came closer to him, nestling against him, leaning her head on his shoulder.
He smiled, holding her hand, “I’m sorry for what happened, Susan. I really am. Do you think we can get a fresh start? Maybe this wedding will be a good place to begin. Especially since James and Teresa are such good examples for us.”
“They are,” she agreed. “And perhaps we can. I know I would like to if we could. It would be nice not to have this hanging over our heads all the time.”
“I agree.”
They sat in silence for a while until Susan closed her eyes and started to drift off. Thomas gently lifted her head. “Susan, you’re exhausted. You need some rest and so do I. Since there’s nothing for me to do here, I’ll go on home.”
“Aren’t you staying for supper? You’re welcome, you know.”
“It’s tempting, but I better go,” he said.
“Okay. I’ll see you at the wedding.”
“Until then.” Thomas kissed her on the cheek and turned to leave. When he got to his buggy, he untied his horse, climbed inside the buggy, and guided Freddy around toward the road. As he drove his buggy out the driveway, he turned to wave at Susan, who was still sitting on the porch swing. She was a wonderful girl indeed. No matter how hard he had to work, he would be a fool to lose her again.
CHAPTER NINE
Thomas had no sooner left than Teresa came racing out the front door, slamming the screen door behind her. She bounced down on the swing beside Susan. Saying nothing to each other, the two watched Thomas’s buggy get smaller and smaller. When he turned west, Teresa glanced at Susan. “You look happier than you have in a long time. Did you get things worked out between the two of you?”
“I think so.” Susan sighed. “We had a good talk, at least. Thomas seems to be making a real effort at being honest and everything.”
“I’m so happy for you.” Teresa leaned across the swing to wrap Susan in a hug.
“Thank you.” Susan jumped to her feet. “Now, I’ve taken up enough time sitting around. Is Mamm ready for supper?”
“Almost. Your sisters are getting ready to leave.”
“Then I’ll see if I can help with something,” Susan said. She went inside.
Teresa stayed where she was, watching the sunlight fade from the sky. The golden haze hung on the horizon, prolonging the onset of darkness.
Interrupting her thoughts, Susan’s two sisters came bustling out of the front door, their arms full of cleaning supplies and dishes. Teresa leaped to her feet, running over to take several of the items from their hands.
“We’re fine,” they protested, but she walked out to the buggies with them, helped them load their stuff, and held the horse’s bridles while they climbed in.
“Thank you so much for everything,” Teresa told each one. “I appreciate what you’re doing for me.”
Hearing soft footsteps behind her, she turned toward the barn to see the faint forms of Daett and Steve coming toward her.
“Has it been a gut day for you, Teresa?” Daett asked.
“A very gut day,” Teresa replied. “I’m tired and aching, but very, very happy.”
“That’s gut,” Daett said. “Now if we can keep you that way until after the wedding, everything will be just fine.”
“I’ll be perfectly happy until then. And that will be the most wonderful day of my life,” Teresa said.
Daett smiled and Steve laughed. “Do you know if Anna has supper ready?” Daett asked. “I haven’t heard anyone calling us. I suppose they got all wrapped up in the wedding work and forgot about us poor starving menfolk.”
“Oh, you poor dears,” Teresa said, taking Daett’s hand and attempting to lead him toward the house.
He laughed and turned to Steve. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. We need to set aside some of our chore time to work on getting the place ready for the wedding. We only have tomorrow and then the wedding. Susan swept the cobwebs from the barn, but there’s still lots to do before the big day.” He paused and smiled at Teresa. “I should know by now how to do this with my eyes closed, what with eight daughters wed already.”
Steve laughed and said, “And you still have Susan ahead of you yet.” With that, he left for Ada’s, cutting across the garden, his shape fading out of sight in the darkness behind the house.
“He’s a gut man,” Daett said. “He’ll make someone a good husband someday.”
“I wonder why he’s not married already,” Teresa said. “I don’t know that much about your ways, but isn’t it a little unusual for a man his age to be unwed?”
“Not if you’re Yost Byler,” Daett teased.
“Well, he’s definitely not Yost Byler!” Teresa said. “Daett, thank you again for this wedding you’re giving me. You’re making me truly feel as if I were one of your daughters.”
“Well, you know you’ve become almost like a daughter to me,” Daett said. “That’s hard to believe considering the short time you’ve been with us. Yet in a way, it seems like years already. I’m glad for the way things have turned out for you.”
“You don’t have to be so modest,” Teresa said. “Susan told me she suspects you had a lot to do with persuading Deacon Ray. You know he took such a hard line with me at first. And now he’s to become my father-in-law and the man couldn’t be sweeter.”
Daett smiled. “I wish you nothing but happiness as you and James start your new lives together. But I do wish to tell you, Teresa, that I haven’t always done everything right in my life. I too have secrets that few know except Da Hah. Maybe that had more to do with how I handled things than you can imagine.”
Teresa shook her head. “I can’t imagine you doing a wild thing in your life. I suspect the worst you ever did was roll someone’s outhouse on Halloween night.”
Daett looked serious. “I did do that once, but there have been…other things. Things I now wish had never happened. But we can’t go back and change the past.”
Teresa held the washroom door open. Daett walked in, but he waited until she had washed her hands in the bowl and was drying them before he began to wash.
The kitchen door cracked open, and little fingers appeared around the edge.
“Oh, you little sweetheart, you!” Teresa cooed, kneeling down to swoop baby Samuel off the floor. She smothered his face with kisses. “Have they been keeping you upstairs all afternoon? But now you’ve come down to Mommy!”
“Da…da…” Samuel said, turning his face away.
“He’s already trying to say daddy,” Teresa gushed. “What do you think that means? Will my next baby be a boy since he’s saying daett before mamm?”
Mamm came to the open door and said, “Oh that’s just an old wives’ tale. They never know what they’re talking about. Now would the two of you quit chattering like blue jays and come inside? Supper is on the table.”
“I didn’t hear anyone call,” Daett protested as he continued to dry his hands.
“Sometimes an old horse can find his own way into the barn,” Mamm said. “We’ve been busy all day. I haven’t had time to think.”
“Well, I’m here now,” Daett said. “And let me ask you something that I keep forgetting. Have you put in our word for the church benches yet?”
“Yah,” Mamm said. “It’s all arranged. Betsy’s boy is bringing over the wagon tomorrow, and we’ll fetch the benches then. Stop worrying, Menno. Right now you need to eat. Come in and sit down before you fall over.”
Daett acted like he was tottering to the table, scraping the chair on the hardwood floor as he sat down. Mamm sat down beside him. Susan watched them out of the corner of her eye as she brought the
bread over. She tried to keep from laughing. Teresa seated Samuel in his highchair before sliding onto the bench against the wall to sit beside her mom.
“Let us pray,” Daett said, leading out as they bowed their heads. “Now unto the most gracious and mighty God, we give thanks tonight again for this food set before us…”
Teresa listened, remembering the first morning after she’d arrived from Asbury Park with Susan. At breakfast she had first heard Daett pray. How his deep voice had thrilled her to the depths of her heart. What confidence it had inspired in her. What hope had risen that things could really be like she had dreamed they would be. And even in the worst of the trouble that had followed, that awakened comfort had not been taken from her. She glanced over and could see her mom was experiencing the same thing. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. Teresa reached under the table and squeezed her mother’s hand. It was so unusual to see her mother cry. It had been years since Teresa had seen this, not even during the hard years in Asbury Park.
“…And now the name of Da Hah be praised and glorified both with our mouths and with the works of our hands. Amen,” Daett said.
Mamm looked over and noticed Maurice’s tears. She rose and left the room. She returned quickly. It’s a touching time for all of us,” Mamm said as she handed a handkerchief to Maurice. “After marrying off eight girls, I haven’t cried much for the last few. But I suppose there will be buckets of tears tomorrow at Teresa’s wedding and even more when Susan’s time comes.”
Daett nodded in agreement as he dished meat casserole onto his plate. When he was done, he passed the dish on. Teresa took the casserole from his hands and placed a small amount on Samuel’s plate.
Maurice wiped her eyes and took the dish when Teresa was done. She dished out a small portion onto her plate and handed it to Susan. When the food was passed to everyone, they ate in silence, the weariness of the day’s work on their faces.
When they finished, Mamm brought out the cream pies. They were passed out, with each person taking a piece.
“That was good enough for kings and queens,” Daett pronounced after he finished his serving. “If we dine this well at the wedding, I’ll be putting on a few more pounds.”
“You will!” Mamm affirmed.
They all laughed and bowed their heads for a silent prayer of thanks. Afterward, Teresa took Samuel upstairs to settle him in for the night. She came down in time to help with the last of the dishes. Maurice was washing, her hands and arms covered with suds all the way up to her elbows.
“Mom,” Teresa whispered, walking up behind her, “you look so lovely tonight. I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“It must be the country living,” Maurice said, tears threatening again. “And the hard work. It makes a body weary and the soul light.”
“I know what you mean,” Teresa agreed. “May I help with anything?”
“We’re done,” Mamm said from the kitchen table. “But thanks, Teresa. You know, we’re going to miss you when you move in with James. I hope you know that. Perhaps James and you will come home once in a while to pay us a visit on Sunday afternoons.”
“I would love that,” Teresa said.
“You are to always consider us as your second parents—after Maurice,” Mamm said. “Don’t ever forget that.”
“I won’t forget,” Teresa said. “How could I? And how can I ever repay you for all this?”
“Regular visits home will be payment enough,” Mamm replied with a smile. “That and seeing you and Samuel on Sundays. He’s going to grow up to be a strong Amish boy.”
“And he’ll never know he wasn’t born Amish,” Teresa said. “I’ve almost forgotten myself.” Teresa glanced up to meet Susan’s gaze when she felt a light touch on her elbow. Susan motioned with her head toward Maurice. Turning toward her mom, Teresa saw tears running down her cheeks again. Teresa stepped up beside her mother and wrapped her arms around her neck. “I’m so glad you’re here to enjoy this time with me. I wish you never had to leave. Don’t you just want to stay with these people forever and ever?”
Maurice stroked the strands of hair hanging out from under Teresa’s kapp, smiling through her tears. “I would love nothing better, sweetheart. I just don’t know how that would work. I certainly couldn’t stay here forever, no matter how nice that would be.”
“I’m sure everyone here would love to have you stay as long as you want. James and I will put you up at our little house.”
“No, I won’t be the kind of mother who hangs around her married daughter’s house and pokes her nose into business that isn’t hers. But for a little while—and only a little while, it would be wonderful to stay with you. Thank you for inviting me!”
“It’s all Da Hah’s doing,” Teresa said.
“With a little help from you, I’m sure.” Maurice smiled and stroked Teresa’s arm.
CHAPTER TEN
Menno stirred long before the first steaks of dawn lit the eastern horizon. He pushed back the bedcovers, swung his legs over, and pulled on his socks. He finished dressing in the darkness. He felt his way out of the bedroom, his fingers finding the familiar door jamb within an inch, with the framed window fixed in his side vision.
Behind him Anna moved under the covers, and he turned to look back. The bed was only a shadow against the wall, her form hidden under the heavy quilt. She would not be up for a while yet, even on this, the day of Teresa’s wedding. Soon buggy wheels would be turning into the driveway, the excited wedding party and the cooks arriving, but for now she could sleep.
He was the one who couldn’t sleep. It was that letter Carol had sent. He was wondering whether he should answer it. Did he wish to see his son? Of course he did. He still couldn’t believe it. He had a son! He still hadn’t told anyone, not even Anna. But if he didn’t gain control of his emotions soon, Anna would notice the struggle on his face. Then the sorrow that tugged on his heart would be unmasked.
Anna would find out, as would his daughters. Even Susan, whose heart was still healing from Thomas’s betrayal. What would this do to her? Against his own sin, Thomas’s faults looked like child’s play. Menno had sinned greatly and betrayed the love of an Englisha girl. He had promised what he had not been able to give—security for her heart, a life together, and a home among her people.
Was this sin to follow him to his grave? Hadn’t he atoned enough? If he hadn’t repented, Teresa wouldn’t be here now, her wedding day here. Hadn’t he fought for her with both Deacon Ray and Yost Byler? Was that not of some value? And now Teresa’s mother was here. The daughter and mother reunited in a place where Da Hah could minister to both. They were doing so in his house, under his roof, with his blessing. Yet the past wouldn’t go away. And now he must surely tell Anna. She would be angry, but in the end she would understand. After all, it happened before they were together. Anna would probably know the best thing to do.
Menno groaned as he reached for a match and lit the kerosene lamp. With the soft light playing on his beard, he stared out the living room window, seeing only darkness. The time had come to share his burden. He must speak of his guilt. Anna would forgive and say words of wisdom as she always did in matters concerning their family.
Menno found his way slowly back into the bedroom, taking the lamp with him. Anna’s startled face came up out of the covers before he closed the bedroom door.
“Please,” he said, “don’t be startled, Anna. I have something I need to talk to you about.”
“Is someone sick? Has something happened?”
“Nee.” Menno sat down beside her on the bed. “Everyone is okay. It is my heart that is not okay.”
Anna shifted, pulling herself up. She sat propped against the wooden headboard. “You are a good man, Menno. All the community knows this. As do I. What is troubling you?”
“Nee, I only wish it were so.” He paused. “Anna, I must tell you of a great sin I committed in my youth.”
She was silent, listening.
He looked away. �
��When I was doing my alternative service in St. Louis, Anna, I dated an Englisha girl.”
Her hand found his. “But you came home to me. That’s what’s important. The rest doesn’t matter.”
“There’s more, Anna.” Menno halted, unable to speak the words.
“What is it, Menno? You can tell me,” Anna said, her hand rubbing his gently.
“Anna, I fathered a child in the Englisha world.”
“What? A child, Menno? And you are just now telling me after all these years?”
He shook his head and pulled the envelope out of his pocket. “The letter with the news, it only came the other day. I thought the girl had lost the baby. That’s what she told me before we parted.” He handed it to her.
“And you never told anyone of this?” The envelope hung limp in her fingers. “Not even the bishop?”
“I spoke a general confession before my baptism, but I didn’t talk of specifics.”
“You were…you did this…with an Englisha girl?”
“Please don’t be angry with me, Anna. I’m no longer a young man, and I have repented of this a thousand times.”
She didn’t look at him as she unfolded the letter and silently read the handwriting. When she was finished, she looked up. “Were you around until the time when this girl should have given birth?”
“Nee, my service time was over, and I left soon after she told me she’d lost the baby.”
“Do you know what this could mean, Menno? Your son—he might come here…looking for you.”
“I know. And I don’t know what to do about it. Our girls…they must be told, but how will I ever tell them? It will hurt them so.”
“What about me, Menno? Do you think I’m happy to hear this? I know I’m an old woman, but I still have a heart beating inside of me.”
“I know you do.” He took her into his arms. “I’m so sorry for what I did. You don’t know how many times I’ve wished it could be undone, but it can’t.”
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