by Emma Miller
Marshall suspected that Toby had picked up a stone along the way, but now, looking at the horse’s hoof, he thought otherwise. He was immediately annoyed. “Sam, did you clean Toby’s hooves this morning before harnessing him?”
Sam was playing with his brown-and-white goat, Petunia. He’d fashioned a blanket with pockets on each side from two burlap feed bags and was trying to tie it on the less-than-cooperative animal. “Ya, I cleaned his hooves.”
“Not well enough. Look at this.” He tapped Toby’s horseshoe and then used the hoof pick in his hand to point out a tiny pebble wedged between the frog—the V-shaped inner part—and the wall of the hoof. The soft flesh around the pebble was slightly swollen, indicating it had been there longer than an hour or so. “This could have seriously injured the horse, Sam,” he said sharply.
His brother stared at the hoof. “I...I’m sorry. I must have missed it.”
“When you tell me you’ve done something, I expect you to be truthful with me.”
“I am being truthful.” Sam’s voice quavered. “I cleaned his hooves, but I guess I missed that little rock. I’m sorry.”
“Do it correctly next time.” Marshall popped out the rock and then exchanged the pick for a hoof brush from his back pocket. “Pigs watered?”
“Ne, but I’ll do it now,” Sam said, backing away from him.
“And put that goat up,” Marshall called. “We have work to be done today. If you want to do a man’s work, you shouldn’t be wasting daylight playing with a pet.”
The moment the words came out of his mouth, Marshall regretted them. Maybe not the words. It was his job to teach Sam how to care for animals, how to run a farm. But he regretted the tone he had used with his little brother. But he didn’t stop Sam to apologize then; he let him go. He would do it later.
Marshall had been in a foul mood all morning. Actually, for days. Long enough for both his grandmother and brother to notice. And she was so perceptive that she had figured out almost immediately who he was upset with, and had been asking questions.
“Haven’t seen Lovage in a few days,” she had commented that morning at breakfast. She’d made French toast, link sausages with maple syrup and freshly baked buttermilk biscuits with hot apple butter to slather them with.
“Bloom off the rose?” his grossmammi had pressed.
“I don’t want to talk about,” he’d responded.
“I hear Rosemary’s home from the hospital. I was thinking I would pay a visit this afternoon. I made an apple cake. You want to go with me?”
Marshall had shaken his head and forked a large square of French toast into his mouth. “Ne, too much to do around here today. We need grain and I need to disk up part of the garden, but I’ve got a bent blade that needs to be repaired. I don’t know how a disk blade gets bent,” he grumbled. “We’ve got no rocks in our soil.”
His grandmother had opened her mouth as if wanting to speak again, then closed it and refreshed his coffee.
Finishing Toby’s last hoof, Marshall grabbed the halter and led the horse back around to the pasture gate. He slipped off the nylon halter and gave the gelding a pat on its haunch as he set it free. He closed the gate, but then just stood there, gazing out at the pasture.
The sun was shining and there was a light breeze coming out of the west, carrying the scent of the last of his ripe apples. Only he could barely feel the warmth on his face. He couldn’t appreciate the sweet, sharp scents of fall.
Because he was miserable.
How could everything have gone so wrong with Lovey? How could he have been such a fool? He had known in the beginning, when he’d first met her at the harness shop, that she’d not really be interested in him. But then she had seemed to take a liking to him. And she’d continued to agree to go out with him. She’d let him ask her to marry him again and again. She’d stood there and let him tell her he was in love with her. And now he knew that it had all been a game to her. Fun between two sisters.
Marshall groaned and rested his back against the gate. He didn’t know what to do. He’d been so upset Tuesday when he’d seen her at Byler’s that he’d barely been able to speak to her. He knew he should confront her and make her confess that the only reason she’d been going out with him was because of some silly dare Ginger had made. But would she even admit it? And what would be the point? She didn’t love him. She was never going to love him.
He closed his eyes, wishing he had someone to talk about this with. Someone who could give him advice. But who could he talk to? His grandmother had been set against Lovey from the beginning. And his best friend, Will, was Lovey’s stepbrother.
With a sigh, Marshall headed for the barn. Right now, the best thing he could think to do was work. Hard work tired a man’s muscles and made him sleep at night. It kept him from thinking too long on the love that had almost been.
Chapter Thirteen
Lovage stood near the Fishers’ farmhouse, listening to the neighborhood women speak softly in Pennsylvania Deutsch as they loaded children into their buggies to go home. It had been a long day of church services. They’d had a guest preacher, Bishop Simon from Ohio, and he had been so long-winded that parishioners had to be gently poked to wake them during the second service. Both the morning and afternoon sermons had been related to mercy, but Lovage had to admit, though she refrained from falling asleep, she’d not been in a good frame of mind to hear and digest God’s word.
A fierce wind coming out of the north tugged at the hem of her heavy wool cloak and pulled at the strings of her black bonnet. It was a cold, late afternoon with black skies, but she had decided to walk home rather than ride with her family, to give herself some time to think.
About Marshall. About what she should do about him.
For a day or two following her mother’s release from the hospital, Lovage had told herself that Marshall hadn’t come around because he didn’t want to bother the family. It made sense he might think that, considering the circumstances, Rosemary’s household needed as little commotion as possible. Maybe he’d even been embarrassed, because his grandmother must have told him why Rosemary had been hospitalized, and pregnancy was not something discussed among Amish men. But when Lynita had stopped by to visit Rosemary, she had sounded as if she was making excuses as to why her grandson hadn’t come with her. Something about a plow blade being broken. Fall chores to be done. A sagging shutter. But then another day had passed. Then another. And today, while Marshall had been present for the district church services, he had openly avoided Lovage. Not only had he kept away from her during the services and the midday meal, but he’d refused to make eye contact with her, even from across a room.
Lovage was heartbroken. She couldn’t possibly imagine how he could have seemed so in love with her less than two weeks ago, how he could have asked her to marry him yet again, and now he couldn’t even look at her. Had she done something, said something, to upset him? Or worse, had he realized how dull she was? Had he decided he really did want someone fun to be his wife?
A buggy rolled by and three-year-old Elsa Gruber waved excitedly from the open rear window. Lovage waved back with one cold hand, wishing she’d worn her wool knit gloves. In this wind, her hands would be near frozen by the time she got home. The sight of little Elsa’s face as the buggy went down the driveway brought a lump up in Lovage’s throat. What if Marshall didn’t love her anymore? Didn’t want to marry her? If this was over, could she ever find love again? Because seeing Benjamin and her mother together in the hospital had made her realize that she really had done the right thing when she had refused Ishmael’s marriage proposal. Because she knew what a marriage of love looked like. And she wasn’t going to settle for less. Amish couples didn’t always marry for love. There were various alternative reasons, such as arranged matches or security for a widow. But Lovage wanted what Benjamin and her mother had. What her parents had had.
Tugging
on the brim of her bonnet to shield her face from the wind, she started across the barnyard. There was a gathering of older men near the smokehouse, their heads bowed, the brims of their black hats almost touching as they engaged in conversation with the visiting preacher. Bishop Simon saw her and nodded, then returned his attention to the group. That was when she spotted Marshall hitching Toby to his grandmother’s buggy.
She halted, the wind in her face, watching him. His head was down, and a knit watch cap had replaced his black Sunday church hat. His shoulders were hunched inside a black wool coat and he seemed to be moving in slow motion. She stood there for a moment in indecision. If he’d changed his mind and didn’t love her anymore, did the reason matter? Should she just let it go and not subject either of them to the awkwardness of him having to say why he didn’t want to marry her anymore? Or should she confront him?
After another moment of uncertainty, she strode across the barnyard. She waited until she was right behind him to speak his name. He didn’t hear her approach, maybe because of the howling wind.
“Marshall?” she said to his back a second time.
He hesitated before he turned around, almost as if debating whether or not to acknowledge her.
Lovage’s heart fell further.
“Marshall, I have to talk to you.” Tears burned behind her eyelids and a part of her wanted to turn and run. But Rosemary hadn’t raised her to be a coward. And wouldn’t it be better to know why he didn’t love her anymore than to never know? “I need you to tell me what’s happened,” she managed to say when she found her voice again. “Between us. Last I knew, all was well. You asked me to marry you two weeks ago at Chupps’ barn raising and then...then you didn’t come for me last Sunday and I saw you at Byler’s and you acted strange.” She lifted her arms and let them fall to her sides. She was shivering, but she wasn’t sure if it was because she was cold or because she was so upset. “What changed?”
He didn’t make eye contact with her and her resolve wavered. Maybe it would be best if she turned around and walked away. But she deserved better. If he didn’t love her anymore, he needed to say so. And he needed to tell her why. If he was going to break her heart, she deserved an explanation.
She waited, but he was silent.
“Marshall, say something,” she said finally. “Anything.”
He ran his hand along one of the thick straps of his horse’s harness. “You know very well why I’m upset.” His voice was harsh and angry, a tone she’d never heard from him in the three months she had known him.
“Ne, I don’t,” she said softly. “At the barn raising everything was fine.” She gave a strangled little laugh. “You told me—” Her voice caught in her throat. “That you loved me,” she finished in a great exhalation.
Marshall slowly lifted his gaze until he was eye-to-eye with her. “You know why,” he repeated, harsh accusation in his voice. Pain. “Everyone knows.”
“Knows what?” she demanded, raising her voice to him. “Marshall, how can I explain myself to you, defend myself, if you don’t tell me why you’re upset with me?”
“I felt like a fool when I heard, Lovage. Everyone in Hickory Grove and Rose Valley knew and I didn’t. The joke was on me, wasn’t it?”
“Marshall, you have to believe me when I say I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She hesitated, racking her brain, but still could think of nothing she had done. “What did you hear? I have a right to know.”
“I’m not a playing piece in a game of checkers, you know. My intentions were honest and honorable from the first day I met you. From that first day, I meant every word I said. Lovey, I—” His voice cracked and he went silent.
“Marshall,” she begged, making fists of her hands. “Please tell me what we’re talking about.”
“The dare,” he told her.
She held his gaze for an instant, truly having no idea what he was talking about.
And then she knew. And she was crestfallen.
It seemed as if it had been so long ago and so...trivial to her. Silliness between sisters. Ginger had genuinely wanted Lovage to get out and make new friends, perhaps even find a beau. “The dare,” she murmured. Wind tugged at the skirt of her black dress. “Ginger’s dare.”
Marshall turned and stroked Toby’s flank. “Ginger’s dare.”
“So Ginger told you,” she said. It was a statement, not a question.
“Ne, worse than that.” His voiced sounded flat now, which seemed worse than his anger. “She told others. Everyone is talking about it. Guys in Rose Valley knew. Everyone is laughing about it. Laughing at me.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. The sun was setting fast. Soon it wouldn’t be safe for her to walk home along the road because she’d brought no flashlight with her. And her family had already left in their buggies.
“Marshall,” she said. “It’s true that Ginger did dare me to ride home from the softball game with you, but...” She exhaled and started again. “I accepted her dare, but it was all in good fun. And you have to believe me when I tell you that after that, I walked out with you because I wanted to. Because I wanted to be with you.”
“She did your chores for a month, so was that the deal? That you would walk out with me for a month?” he asked. “What did she offer you for the next month?”
She almost laughed, his accusation seemed so ridiculous, but she knew from the look on his face, from the tone of his voice, that he didn’t think it was ridiculous. “It was dishes and it was only for a week. One ride home with you and Ginger said she’d take on my dishwashing chore for a week. I’m sorry. I should have told you after that first date.” She clasped her hands together, almost as if begging him. “It was wrong of me not to tell you, Marshall. But I have to be honest with you, I didn’t take you entirely seriously at first. When you started asking me to go places with you. Who asks a woman to marry her on their first date?”
“I’m sorry. I have to go. My grandmother and brother are waiting out front for me to pick them up.” He stepped between her and the buggy and swung up into the seat.
“Marshall, what are you doing? That’s it?” She opened her arms to him, looking up at him on the buggy seat. “You’re not going to talk with me about this?”
“Nothing to talk about.” He slid the door shut, lifted the reins and urged Toby forward.
Lovage stood there in the cold, fighting tears until he was gone. Then she walked home alone in the dark.
* * *
When Lovage walked into her mother’s kitchen, Rosemary was sitting at the table with Benjamin, both with cups of tea. He was reading aloud to her from the Book of Ruth, Rosemary’s favorite. He glanced over the top of the newspaper at his stepdaughter, his wire-frame reading glasses perched on the end of his large nose. “Have a good walk home, Lovey?”
“Ya,” she answered. “It was cold, but the exercise felt good after sitting so long today.” She’d removed her cloak in the laundry room and left it there. She now took off her bonnet and added it to the row of her sisters’ and Mam’s on a shelf inside the kitchen door.
Rosemary was sewing a button on one of the boys’ shirts. Technically, there was supposed to be no work done on the Sabbath, but Benjamin was lax in some regards. In a household so large, there was so much to do. Mending seemed a minor infraction, especially while listening to a reading from the Bible.
“Did you speak with him?” her mam asked. If she could tell that Lovage had been crying on the walk home, she didn’t say.
Lovage pressed her lips together. Her mother was aware that something was going on between her and Marshall, but she didn’t understand how serious it was because Lovage didn’t want her to know. Her mother didn’t need the worry. “Ya. Do you know where Ginger is?”
“Gone upstairs, I think. Looking for her favorite shampoo. She seems to believe that Nettie borrowed it, but they disagree.” Rose
mary held her gaze a moment longer, seeming to debate whether to press her any further on the subject of Marshall, but then let it go and returned her attention to the errant button. “We’ll begin putting supper on in a half hour. The boys are out milking and feeding.”
“Ya, I’ll be right back down. The stew left on the woodstove all day will be easy to serve,” Lovage said, crossing the kitchen, which smelled deliciously of roasting beef and hearty vegetables. “And there’s still plenty of corn bread and cinnamon applesauce and two huge dishes of blueberry crisp that Nettie made yesterday.”
Benjamin waited until Lovage left the kitchen and began reading aloud again.
Lovage took the stairs two at time. “Ginger?” she called from the landing at the top.
“In the bathroom!” her sister called back. “I can’t find my shampoo in the gold bottle. The one that smells like almonds,” she went on. “Do you know where it is? Nettie says she put it back, but I can’t find it anywhere.”
Lovage stepped into the large family bathroom to find Ginger, still in her black karrichdaag dress, on her hands and knees on the floor, her head thrust under the sink. The airy room was painted a buttercup yellow with white trim and smelled of dried herbs and fresh linens hung to dry in the outdoors.
“Ne, I’ve not seen it.” Lovage closed the door, because she didn’t want anyone else to hear them.
“I know Nettie used it. I hope it’s not all gone. I bought that shampoo with my own money...” Ginger chattered on.
Lovage crossed her arms over her chest, still feeling chilled from her walk, though the house was warm. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing Marshall anymore,” she said, her voice sounding strained.
