A Love Made New (10 page)

S
ol poured Aden a mug of coffee, then one for himself. His brother had decided to stay and visit with
Mamm
for a while after everyone else left for the afternoon. She was pleased by the visit, but Sol could tell she was tired. When she told him and Aden she wanted to lie down for a little while, neither of them argued. Hopefully she would sleep, not toss and turn like he knew she tended to do since
Daed
left.

He took the mugs and sat down at the kitchen table. Pushing one mug toward Aden, he said, “It's strong.”

“That's how I like it.” Aden picked up the coffee.

“
Nee
, I mean really strong.” He glanced away. “The extra kick, it . . . helps.”

Aden paused. “I understand.” He took a sip and his eyes grew wide. “You weren't joking.”

“Told you.” Sol drank the tar-colored brew. What he wouldn't do for a real drink right now. But he would be satisfied with coffee. Liquor would never pass his lips again.

Aden set down his coffee mug and pushed it away a few inches. “We've got some things to talk about,” Aden said. “And none of them concern
kaffee
.”

Sol set down his mug and gripped it in his hands. “If you're worried about
Mamm
, don't be. I'm taking care of her.”

Aden nodded. “I know you are. But there are some things you can't help her with.”

Slumping, Sol nodded. “I know. I wish I could.”

“Have you heard from him?”

“
Nee
.” Sol clenched his fists. But
Daed
was never far from his mind. How he had broken him and Aden. How he'd fooled the community, although Sol thought
Daed
truly believed everything he did was God's will. He'd been gone for several months, and not only had he not sent any word about where he was or if he was okay, he also hadn't sent any money. Sol didn't expect a dime from him, but what about
Mamm
? How could he leave his wife and the mother of his children—sons he'd never shown an ounce of love toward—without funds?

Maybe his father trusted Aden to take care of her. And that would be true. Aden always did the right thing, or at least he tried to. Sol was trying to follow his lead, and he'd been keeping a watchful eye on
Mamm
ever since their father left. She still maintained he was coming back. His office was the same. His clothes still hung in the closet. She still fixed a little extra food in case he decided to show up at suppertime. Sol didn't have the heart to tell her his father was probably gone forever. If hanging on to hope helped her get through the day, he wasn't about to squash that hope.

“I doubt we'll ever see him again.” Sol took another swig of his coffee. The bitter taste added to the sourness in the pit of his stomach.

“I don't believe that.
Ya
, I know he would abandon
us
.” Aden's jaw jerked. “But he'd never leave
Mamm
. Not forever, anyway.”

“
Mamm
agrees with you.” Sol rubbed his forehead. “She insists he's coming back any
daag
now.”

“What's wrong with her holding on to hope?”

“
Nix
, right now. But someday she'll need to face reality.” Sol fisted his hand on the table, then moved it to his lap. He unclenched it and looked at Aden. “She'll have to accept that our
daed
was—is—a terrible person.”
And that's giving him more credit than he deserves.

Aden leaned back against his chair. “Maybe he's not anymore.”

Sol scoffed. “You don't seriously believe that.”

“
You're
different.” Aden leaned against the table and folded his hands. “Maybe
Daed
has changed too.”

“That's a big if.” Sol sighed. “Let's say you're right, that he has changed. Then why hasn't he come back?”

Aden paused. “I don't have the answer to that.”

“Because you have
yer
head in the clouds.”

“And
yers
is always in the sand.”

Sol counted to ten. He'd been doing that for the past few months, working on controlling his temper. He wasn't mad at Aden, he was angry that his brother was right. He'd covered his pain with alcohol, and when that hadn't worked, he took out his fury with his fists instead of dealing with his problems like a man.

This time he was able to speak without snapping or sarcasm before he made it to five. That was an improvement. “I told her I wouldn't leave her alone. That
nee
matter what happens, she'll always have me.”

“She'll have me too. I'm not going anywhere.”

“But you have a
familye
of
yer
own. Sadie, maybe some
kinner
soon.”

“If God wills. But that doesn't mean I won't be there for
Mamm
.”

“
Daed
too?”

Aden pressed his lips together. “
Ya.
I have to forgive him. We both do.”

Sol looked at the table. He'd refinished it last Christmas as a present for his mother. She'd had the same scuffed table for years since their father had refused to buy a new one or have this one repaired. Sol had also made other improvements to the house—he replaced their small woodstove with a larger one, bought a new hickory rocking chair for
Mamm
, and was planning to sand and refinish the living room floors when the weather turned warmer. His father had lived frugally, yet had hoarded his own money and the community fund over the twenty years he'd been bishop of Birch Creek. His father had been cruel not only to his own family; he'd also let the community suffer. How was Sol supposed to forgive him for that? For everything he had done?

“Suppose
Daed
doesn't return, at least for a long time.” Aden cleared his throat, as if saying the words out loud bothered him. “I don't want
Mamm
living alone.”

“I'm here, Aden. She won't be alone.”

“You're here for now.”

Once more Sol could feel his anger rising even though he wasn't surprised Aden was insinuating that he would abandon their mother. His brother might have forgiven him, but it was clear Sol hadn't earned his trust. “I told you I'm not going anywhere and I meant it.”

“That's not what I'm saying. I know you'll stand by her, Sol.
But what about when you get married? What will happen to her then?”

“I'm not getting married.”

“Not now . . . but someday.”

He didn't answer, just stared at the wood grain on the table. He had come to terms with his future. He'd continue with woodworking—something he really loved now that he was focused and sober and had his own business—and take care of his mother. When—more likely if—his father returned, then he'd deal with that. But love, that was off the table. And somehow he would handle the loneliness, the envy he felt when he saw Aden and Sadie together, or any other happy couple. This was his penance.

“Sol?”

Aden's voice cut into his thoughts. He looked at his younger brother. His red beard had grown out and was now a little scraggly around his chin. He had changed too. Since marrying Sadie and standing up to their father, he had transformed from a weak, broken man to a confident one. “Don't worry about
Mamm
,” Sol said. “I'll make sure she's always taken care of.”

Aden nodded. He glanced at the coffee mug. “You won't be offended if I don't finish that?”

Sol half-smiled. “
Nee.
I'll finish it for you.”

Aden pushed away from the table. “I've got to get back home.”

Sol followed Aden to the buggy. Before getting in, Aden said, “
Daed
's not the only person you need to forgive, Sol.”

He couldn't imagine who his brother was talking about. Sol had transgressed, not the other way around. “Who?”

“You.” Aden climbed into the buggy. “You need to forgive
yerself
.”

Sol waited until his brother had disappeared down the road
before heading back to the house. He stood outside the back door and hung his head. How could he forgive himself for years and years of sins? How could he live his life knowing what he had done? If he had to forgive himself, he didn't know how.

“I don't know why Asa didn't ask me for decorating advice,” Irene said Monday afternoon as she handed Abigail two of the half-finished rugs they had worked on last week. “Actually, I don't know why he needs decorating advice at all. He's never been picky about stuff like that before, at least as long as I've known him. Then again, he was gone for several years. Maybe he's picky about that stuff now.”

Abigail shrugged, but she hid the fact that she had wondered the same thing, pondering it enough that she had trouble falling asleep. What did Asa want from her? It couldn't be anything romantic. She and Asa definitely weren't a good match.

She turned to Irene. “Did you and Asa ever date?”

Irene laughed. “Goodness,
nee
. He's like
mei bruder
. You're not the first one to ask me, though. And apparently several girls have found it hard to believe someone exists on this planet who isn't interested in Asa Bontrager.”

“That makes two of us.” At least she was trying to convince herself of that.

“Hmm,” Irene said. “I wonder if he might be interested in
you
, though.”

Her friend wasn't helping. “I can't see that happening. I'm sure he's being nice.”

“He's always been that.” Irene tapped her finger on her chin. “But I can see you two together.”

Abigail's mouth dropped open. Then she clamped it shut. “I'm not ready for a relationship.”

“Not even a date?”

“
Nee.
Not even a date. And that's the last I'm going to say on that subject.”

“All right.” Irene looked a little contrite. “I'm sorry I touched on a sore spot.”

“You didn't.” She had, but that wasn't Irene's fault. Putting ridiculous ideas like dating Asa out of her mind, Abigail placed the rugs on her bed. Five were unfinished and one was ready for sale. She and Irene had chosen a variety of colors—browns, grays, blues, sage and dark greens, and russet and rust. All fairly masculine, if one could call a woven rug masculine.

Irene went to the wooden loom frame and touched the light brown wood. “Are you ever going to use this?”

“
Ya
,” Abigail said, a bit too quickly. And she would. Every night she looked at the loom and told herself she would use it the next day. But when she looked at it in the morning, she didn't have a single creative thought. Her life was in a rut. She was stuck as she watched her sisters move on with their happy lives. Yesterday after they'd returned home from the Troyers', Sadie and Aden had sat on the couch together. Both of them were reading—Aden a beekeeping manual and Sadie a book on how to run a business—but they were sitting close to each other. Abigail had tried to focus on her magazine. She'd grabbed the nearest one, which, of course, had to be a cooking magazine. Looking at food after what had happened earlier at church made her want to go to the kitchen and binge, even though she was still full from lunch.

She'd compelled herself not to, but occasionally she'd glance up, only to see Aden looking at Sadie or Sadie looking at Aden.
Finally Abigail gave up and went upstairs. It was obvious they wanted to be alone. She had become a third wheel in her own house.

She snatched the rugs off the bed. “We better get going.
Danki
for the ride to Asa's.”

“How are you getting back home?”

“Aden said he'd pick me up at
yer haus
after the store closed.”

Outside, Abigail followed Irene through the snow, which was coming down in a heavy cloud of white. Spring would officially start in two weeks, but Mother Nature didn't seem to be aware of that. Abigail thought about canceling with Asa altogether. Perhaps she should, using the weather as an excuse. But she wanted to keep her word. Besides, it wouldn't take long to show him the rugs and take his order. She climbed into Irene's buggy and put the rugs on her lap. They were heavy and warmed her immediately.