by Kelly Long
“If yer lookin’ fer Anke, she ran off into the woods. Looked like she was cryin’ too. I tell ya, Abner, women are trouble. The creek would do ya better.”
“Danki,” he muttered, then bent to buss her cheek. He ignored her pleased gasp of surprise and headed for the forest.
It was fairly easy to track Anke’s path—a broken stick here, a crushed flower there—but when he finally came to the mossy haven she had found, he discovered that she was sound asleep.
She had flung an arm over her eyes as a child might do and her dress and apron were askew. Her brown curls had come loose from her kapp and fell about her in a manner only her husband should have the privilege of seeing. Abner knew this and was humbled by the vision.
He crept close to her and dropped to his knees, gently lifting a curl of her hair and pressing it to his lips. Her hair smelled fresh and clean and faintly like lilacs, and he was more than content to simply sit by her, waiting until she awoke.
When she did move her arm from her face he saw that her cheeks were tearstained, and his heart ached for her. Her long, dark lashes fluttered open and she stared up at him, clearly caught in that place between sleep and wakefulness.
“Abner? Ach . . . Abner.”
He couldn’t help himself; he bent to kiss her, at first meaning only to brush her lips with his own. But then he felt her tentatively respond and it set his blood on fire.
He lay down next to her on the mossy ground with a groan, kissing the sweet curve of her neck. She arched her back, giving him better access, but then he felt her stiffen and kumme wide awake.
“Abner—what?”
He pulled away and sat up, putting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
“Abner, what is it?”
“Kissin’ ya, not kissin’ ya. I’m worn out with it, Anke.”
“Well—”
He heard the huffiness in her voice and quickly lifted his head. “Anke, I don’t mean it that way.... I jest want ya to know . . . that I love ya.” He caught her hands in his and looked down at her careworn fingers, not wanting to see her reaction to how he truly felt.
“Abner . . .” This time her voice was soft and sweet, and he looked up to meet her brown eyes. “Ach, Abner. . . . I love ya too. But if ya really knew about me, ya wouldn’t want me in yer life.”
“Try me, sei se gut. Please try me and trust me. I will hold whatever ya tell me close and dear to my heart. I give ya my word.”
* * *
Anke stared up into his earnest blue eyes, and her thoughts drifted back to when she was but a child. “My oncle—he was—often left alone to watch me. I don’t know what my mamm was thinking, but after my daed died, she had ta work, and entrusted me ta her oldest bruder’s care. He . . . always made me feel special somehow. He bought me candies and held my hand.... But then . . . then things became different. I was ten years auld that year and I was so ignorant, or maybe innocent. He began ta want ta play games with me that I knew were wrong. . . .” She swallowed hard. “And I let him touch me and he hurt me, but I still didn’t tell my mamm. . . . I should have. It wuz my fault for not tellin’—”
She broke off when she felt what she thought were raindrops hitting her face, and then she blinked and realized that Abner was crying.
“Don’t cry, Abner.”
He drew a hoarse breath. “I’m cryin’ for ya, Anke, that ya have had ta carry the thought that it was yer fault.... It weren’t, Anke. . . . It weren’t.” He cradled her close, and she could feel his heart slamming in his chest.
“I—I felt Derr Herr speak ta my heart today. That’s why I ran.”
“What did He say?”
“That He can turn the bad past ta gut in my life. I think I just couldn’t believe that until ya kumme along and I—I told ya. It felt like spring water runnin’ through me, Abner—ta tell ya the truth.”
“Danki, Anke,” he whispered hoarsely. “And if there’s more gut ta kumme out of this, we’ll find it—together.”
She felt him gently kiss her forehead, and then she wrapped her arms about his broad shoulders, taking joy in the idea of togetherness.
* * *
The late-nacht hum of the crickets and the deep-toned voice of an auld bullfrog were the perfect accompaniment for the work of carving as far as Tabitha was concerned. Lightning bugs blinked out a show and she found herself humming softly so as not to wake Matthew, who half dozed, sitting up in a corner. They were in their new living area and it was after midnight. The cabin had been put up in one day, with many hands making light work. But there was still the finishing to do, and Tabitha relished the craft.
Still, her eyes were repeatedly drawn from the wood to the handsome face of her husband in repose. His chestnut hair had grown long of late, and she considered the intimate pleasure of being able to give him a haircut on their own porch.
Matthew stirred slightly, causing her to study him in more detail. He was an artist’s dream, she mused. His long, dark lashes lay in thick crescents on his sleep-flushed cheeks and his perfect lips were parted slightly with his even breathing. His white shirt had come partially undone and the long line of his lean throat was exposed. His right leg was bent and one long-fingered hand rested with negligent strength on his knee. He was quite simply, she thought, irresistible.
Suddenly, as if drawn by invisible cords to him, she put down her wood chisel with quiet care and then crawled across the short distance to the sprawl of his legs. She settled herself, then leaned forward and ran the tip of her tongue across his bottom lip. It’s like licking cream, she thought, indulging herself once more. She pressed her mouth against the dampness she’d created and kissed him until she felt a groan reverberate in his chest.
His lashes lifted slowly, seemingly with reluctance, and she felt his mouth curve upward in a smile. She drew back and felt him give her a long, heated glance. She was about to speak when a long, whinnied cry rent the nacht air.
“That’s a horse in pain,” Tabitha said, rising to her feet.
“I agree.” He too got to his feet, and she felt a warm sensation in her belly when he took her hand and grabbed up one of the lanterns. “Let’s geh.”
She hurried with him through the chill air and felt her heart begin to pound when she heard the horse’s cry again....
* * *
Matthew suspected that the horse was a mare in labor. He’d heard that same high-pitched cry several times back home. He hurried his steps down a slight hill, careful to make sure that Tabitha kept her footing.
He lifted the lantern when he spotted the horse just ahead. He inched closer with Tabitha at his back. Generally, mares preferred to give birth at nacht and in solitude, if possible, but they were usually quiet. This mare was in obvious distress, with her sides heaving and her breathing forced.
“It’s breech, I bet,” Tabitha whispered.
“Jah, we’ll have to be careful approaching her. Do you know this horse?”
“It’s Asa Zook’s mare, Bunny.”
Asa Zook? Matthew flashed back to the day Asa had called him a hex and then left the mill and Blackberry Falls with his bruder. If his horse is here, then surely Asa is too. It was a grim thought, but right now he had to focus on the mare.
He let geh of Tabitha’s hand and slid the few remaining pins from his shirt so he could lower his suspenders. “I’ll use my shirt as a harness of sorts. We have to keep her moving after we check her.”
“Let me do it, Matthew.”
“Nee, she might kick.”
His wife’s delicate laughter rang out in soft tones. “Don’t you remember the ad, Mail-Order Groom? You must ‘love horses’? That’s because I love them and know how to handle them.”
She proved her point by walking slowly to the mare and gentling her with low crooning. Then she made a slight motion, and he came forward to lift the lantern.
“It is breech,” she said in a worried voice.
“We’ve got to keep her walkin
g. If she goes down, we’ll never be able to turn the foal.”
“And I don’t think we should geh for help. She may try to deliver at any time now,” Tabitha pointed out.
Matthew nodded. The terribly difficult thing about a breech presentation was the actual turning of the foal. It took both strength and gentleness, as well as precise timing. He’d only managed it once before, with a silky black horse at home. But he’d been lucky.
“I think we should pray.” The words were out of his mouth before he knew it, but then he smiled in the shadows. “Remember what you said in the ad, Tabitha? Gott is the recognized third in a marriage. Well, I believe that, and we sure need His strength here tonight.”
“Jah,” he heard her softly agree.
Then he began to pray as he eased his shirt over the mare’s neck. “Derr Herr, give us strength in this moment to help one of Your creatures and her boppli, so that no life may be lost here tonight. . . .”
Matthew felt a strange peace kumme over him then, and the following hours seemed to play out easily, as if Someone else guided the watch.... The mare had quieted after many a trip around the grassy clearing, and finally dawn began to stretch its pink fingers across the ever-lightening sky. He joined Tabitha and carefully pushed the foal back far enough to be able to turn its thin legs and bring its head into proper position. After that, they stood gratefully and watched as the mare delivered at last.
“She’s marvelous,” Tabitha said, watching with him as the new mother licked her boppli clean.
Matthew glanced down at his wife. She’d lost her kapp and her hair hung in damp tangles over her shoulders and down her back. Her apron was unspeakably soiled, and the hem of her dress was ripped and the color of mud. Still, he had never found her more beautiful.... He had seen her fierceness and determination to save both the mare and the foal and her tireless effort over the past hours.
“You’re marvelous,” he said quietly, bending to kiss her in the new light of day....
Chapter Thirty-Three
“We’re courtin’,” Abner announced with quiet dignity.
John Stolfus turned to look up from reading The Budget, and Abner felt the weight of his stare. “You and Anke?” There was slight disbelief in his question.
“Jah. Ya betcha.”
The two men were in the Stolfus living area, sitting near a warm fire in the chill of the early morning.
“Well, that’s fine, Abner.”
“Danki. I jest wanted ya ta know, so ya can start lookin’ fer someone else ta help around the haus. I’d like Anke to keep our own home one day.”
Abner watched as his friend , half bruder,and employer nodded affably. It feels gut ta say it out loud. . . . We’re courtin’. . . . I love her. . . .
He was stirred from his thoughts as Anke herself bustled into the room with a tray of tea. She had a shy look on her face and served him before he could even get to his feet.
John cleared his throat after a moment. “I’ll see you two later in church meeting. I think I’ll geh over and check whether Tabby and Matt are getting ready to come.... Congratulations!”
He left the room, and Abner stood and sidestepped the small table in front of his chair. Anke had turned away from him slightly to face the fire. “John congratulated us. . . . So, ya told him about our courtin’?”
“Jah. I know that most couples court in secret, but Anke—I want der weldt ta know. I—I suppose I should have asked ya first.”
“Nee. It’s strange, that be all. Here I am, an auld maid, and I’m courtin’.” She laughed a little. “I’ve never courted before,” she admitted.
“Well, you’re courtin’ now, and I am goin’ ta try and share with ya every enjoyable moment. And Anke—I’ll share the sad times too. I love ya.” He felt awkward for a moment when she simply stared up at him and wondered if he’d mentioned love again too soon....
* * *
Anke stood, listening for a minute to the negative voice that ran rampant in her head—the voice that said he would leave her eventually, hurt her heart, or kumme to hate her as her oncle said he did after....
Then she heard a new Voice, that of Derr Herr, telling her that Abner was no such man. He was strong, both physically and spiritually, and she knew that he meant what he said.... He loves me. . . . He loves me. . . .
“I—I don’t know what it is ta love a man, Abner, but I know that I feel about ya as I’ve never felt about anybody before . . . and I—I’m blessed by yer love and patience.”
She watched him carefully, wondering how he’d take her words, but then he caught her hands in his and bent to kiss her. “Danki, Anke. What ya say is a gift and a blessin’ ta me also.”
She nodded, the practical side of her remembering the time. “Ach, we’d better hurry ta church, Abner. We’re sure ta be late.”
He laughed. “Then we’ll be late together.”
She had to smile up at him as his blue eyes sparkled in the light of the fire, and she decided that being late together sounded rather fun.
* * *
Tabitha shivered as she dressed hastily after washing in the nearby creek, which ran from Blackberry Falls. She fixed her kapp in place and was glad to peek outside to see Bunny and her new foal resting quietly. Matthew had gone off to bathe himself.
Tabitha felt restless waiting for Matthew to return and decided she might gather her tools, which were still near the bookshelf she’d been carving last nacht. She knew it wasn’t gut to work on a Sunday, but she noticed a slight unevenness in the frame and gently ran a plane over the surface.
“Stop!”
The unfamiliar roar of her fater’s voice caused her to jump, and she nearly dropped the plane.
“Fater, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t meaning to work today.”
“Put down that tool now.”
There was an eerie soberness about her fater’s face, and for some strange reason, she felt a moment of fear as she carefully lowered the plane to the floor.
“Fater, what—”
“Close your lips, Tabitha. You will accompany me to church meeting now and be glad that I don’t drag you there by your hair.”
“By my hair? Fater, are you well?”
He walked toward her, then caught her arm in an iron grip. “I am well enough to see when my own dochder is woodworking!”
“I should have said something, jah, but—”
He shook her briefly, then marched her across the freshly sanded floor. “We will geh to church meeting and you will confess your sins there.”
Tabitha felt as if she was in a strange dream that was fast turning into a nachtmare. She hurried to keep pace with her fater and hoped that Matthew would return soon.
* * *
Matthew came back from the creek whistling, pleased to see Bunny and her foal doing well and completely absorbed in each other. He entered through the back door of the new haus and saw Tabitha’s damp tracks on the floor. He smiled at the small size of her feet, then called out for his wife.
When he got no response he walked through the cabin, toweling his hair. As he realized that Tabitha was gone, fear started to flood his body. He dropped the towel, pulled on his shirt, and raised his suspenders. The thought of Amy Dienner’s murderer possibly having Tabitha was terrifying. Then he told himself to settle down. She might simply have gone to her daed’s or started off to church meeting without him.
He ran the short half mile to the Stolfus haus but found no one there, then headed to the Miller barn, where service was being held. He saw Abner and Anke slip inside ahead of him, then hurried to enter the barn himself. He had barely slid the door closed when he became aware of a tense silence inside the space.
He turned to find the strange sight of Tabitha standing in front of the community, her chin up and a bewildered, frightened look on her face. John Stolfus and Bishop Kore stood to her right, and Matthew noticed that Abner and Anke stood frozen in one of the aisles ahead.
Matthew wasted no time moving past Ab
ner and making his way to the front of the community. “What’s going on?” he asked loudly. “Tabitha?” He took his wife’s cold hand in his and stared out at the troubled faces in front of him. “Bishop Kore?”
But it was John Stolfus who answered, in a tone of voice Matthew had never heard him use before.
“I caught Tabitha in the act of working wood! I brought her here to confess her sins before the community. She refuses to speak, and if she continues to so choose, she shall be shunned.”
“Shunned,” Matthew repeated incredulously. Matthew had never in his life witnessed a shunning, and he was amazed to hear his fater-in-law speak so coldly about it.
“Jah,” John bit out. “She is worse than a hex to dare to work with wood—and I am ashamed to have caught her just as I once discovered her mother.”
Matthew ignored the gasps of the onlookers as John’s words about Tabitha’s mamm flooded his mind. He turned and saw the stricken look on Tabitha’s face.
“My mamm?” she asked, gazing at her fater. “You mean before she died?”
Matthew could see the arrow coming, the hard truth that would pierce Tabitha’s heart. He could do nothing to stop it except—
“I am the one who encouraged Tabitha to try woodworking. I told her to do it—as her husband. So the blame is mine.” He heard his own voice ring out with strength and conviction. And he succeeded in turning Tabitha’s attention from her fater for the moment, though he knew he could not protect her from the truth forever.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“I thought it would be a lot less fun to be shunned,” Matthew commented with an attempt at cheerfulness. He and Tabitha were hiking up the mountain above Blackberry Falls. They both had been officially banned after the wood-carving debacle that morning.
