A Man of His Word (12 page)

He snatched up enough wood to make a decent-sized fire, then dashed back inside where Moriah stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the withered pie on the table. “I should have made pumpkin,” she mumbled. “He likes pumpkin better than apple.”

Concern filled him as he shoved the wood in the opening of the stove. He moved beside her and led her to a chair. “Sit down, and don’t move. I’ll get the fire started.” He started back to the stove but added for good measure, “Don’t move.”

He lit the stove. Soon the kitchen would be warm. Hopefully that would help; she appeared so cold. He could see her body trembling, her fingertips a bluish hue. Remembering the quilt he saw lying over the back of the couch in the front room, he went to fetch it. Within moments he came back and put it around her shoulders, then sat down next to her.

He was glad to see she had gathered the quilt closer to her body. At least she wasn’t completely catatonic. “Do you want some coffee? Tea maybe?”

“Coffee,” she said, then looked up at him, her eyes not so empty now.

As he moved around the kitchen, easily locating what he needed—she hadn’t rearranged anything since moving into the house—he thought about his brother. That Levi would leave the church, leave his
wife
. . . Gabe could barely comprehend it. That he would do such a thing by an impersonal letter added even more fuel to the angry fire stoking inside him.

Levi had sent Gabe a letter as well, through the driver that had taken him to Gates Mills for the past couple months. In the short note, he had said he was leaving the church and the community—to do
what
, Gabe didn’t know—and told him not to try to contact him. Right now Gabe didn’t care if he never saw his brother again. The coward had left it up to him to deliver the news not only to Moriah but also to their father.

As the coffee perked on the stove, he dropped his head in his hands. How could he tell
Daed
what Levi had done? Did his brother not realize their father’s increasingly fragile state? Was he so selfish that he didn’t care if their father died from the heartbreak of knowing his son had chosen the world over God?

“Gabriel?”

He looked up at the sound of Moriah’s voice. Her features seemed less pale, less haunted. But the pain was still evident in her eyes, in the downward turn of her mouth. He hated seeing her suffer this way.

She stood up from her chair and walked over to him. Placing her hand on his arm, she said, “Let it go, Gabriel. Let your anger for Levi go.”

How did she know what he was thinking? He followed her gaze to his hands, which were clenched so tightly the knuckles where white. When she looked at his face, he relaxed his hands.

The coffee pot finished percolating. Gabe started to reach past Moriah’s shoulder for a cup from the cabinet when she stopped him. “I’ll get it.”

“
Nee
, Moriah. Let me do it.”

She shook her head. “I can’t just sit here. Do you want some?”

He nodded, not wanting to argue with her, then went to sit down as she took two white ceramic mugs from the cabinet and poured coffee into them. She spooned a little sugar into Gabe’s, then poured cream into hers before sitting back down at the table and handing him his cup. Surrounding the mug with her hands, she stared into the caramel-colored liquid.

“How do you do it?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

She glanced up. “Do what?”

“Stay so calm.” A few moments ago she’d seemed ready to fall apart. Now she was a pillar of strength. How she managed to regain her equanimity he had no idea.

“I’m not calm,” she said. The tremble in her lower lip as she spoke revealed the truth behind her words. “I don’t know what I feel right now, but it’s definitely not calm.” She looked back at her coffee, but didn’t make a move to drink it. “Does your
daed k
now?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t want to wake him.”

“What time is it?”

“Twelve thirty.”

With a sigh, she said, “I must have been asleep for hours. I was waiting for Levi . . .” Her hands tightened around the mug. “Why is he doing this?” Her voice sounded thin.

“I don’t know.” Gabe stood up from his chair and started pacing the room, his coffee untouched as well. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Did he say anything to you about leaving?”

“
Nee
. Not a word.”

“Did he . . .” She paused, her gaze averted. “Did he say he was . . . unhappy?”

Gabe immediately caught her meaning and sat back down. “
Nee
, not ever. Moriah, I’m sure that whatever crazy thing is going on inside my brother’s head, it has nothing to do with you.” But as he said it, he saw a tear roll down her cheek.

“He doesn’t love me. Not anymore.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand, still not looking at him. “I wonder if he ever did.”

“Moriah,” Gabe said, lowering his voice. How he wished he could take away the pain, the humiliation she so clearly felt. “This isn’t your fault.”

Her head snapped her head up. “But what if it is? What if he left because I wasn’t a good wife? What if I pushed him to do this?”

He couldn’t imagine her being anything but the perfect wife. “I don’t believe that.”

“Just look at this supper,” she said, her voice rising an octave. “The rolls are burned.”

“Moriah, they’re fine—”

“And I know he likes pumpkin pie more than apple, but I didn’t have any pumpkin. I should have bought some; I should have prepared better. A good wife would have put her husband’s needs first, right?”

Her words were coming out faster now, and the worry that had filled him when she first read Levi’s letter returned. “Pie is not a need, Moriah. He would have been fine eating apple, trust me.”

She stood from her chair, letting the quilt fall to the floor. She kept talking as if he hadn’t said anything. “I must have done something wrong, something horrible for him to leave me. I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t pretty enough, or desirable enough, or . . .”

Gabe couldn’t take listening to her tear herself down. He leapt from his chair and went to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Stop it, Moriah. Stop saying things that aren’t true!”

Her eyes filled with moisture, and she reached up and grabbed his shirt. “I should have made pumpkin, Gabriel. I should have made pumpkin . . .” She fell against his chest and sobbed.

Instinctively his arms went around her. He could easily rest his chin on her head, and he wanted to do just that, to press her against his chest and never let her go. He squeezed his eyes shut.

He knew he should step away, but he stroked her back, even pressed his cheek against her
kapp
, breathing in the sweet smell of her. While Levi would cast her away, Gabe would treasure her forever.

But she wasn’t his to treasure. With a huge effort, he lifted his head, stilled his hand, and stepped away from her. His shirt was damp with her tears and pain. When she looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears, it took every ounce of his resolve not to draw her against him once more.

“I was going to tell him something tonight,” she whispered, her cheeks and lips shiny with moisture. “I was going to give him the best news in the world.”

Gabe sucked in a breath. He didn’t have to hear the words; he already knew what she was about to say.

“We’re having a baby.” Somehow she managed a watery smile. “I’m pregnant with Levi’s child.” She laid her palm flat against her stomach. “This baby was going to fix everything between us, Gabriel. Draw us closer together, make us a real family.” Once again she leaned against him, pressing her cheek against his shirt. “Now what am I going to do?”

Gabe continued to hold her, convincing himself he was only offering her comfort, even though with every fiber of his being he longed to offer her more. Most of all he wanted to take on her pain as his own. But he couldn’t. He could only give her solace, and weak solace at that. “I don’t know, Moriah,” he said, reveling in her nearness while wallowing in his own guilt. “I don’t know.”

“Gabriel . . . Gabe,
sohn
, wake up.”

Gabe’s eyes flew open at the sound of his father’s voice and the touch of the old man’s hand on his shoulder. He straightened to an upright position as the kitchen came into focus. A dull ache spread across his shoulder blades. Glancing around, he realized he’d fallen asleep at the table. Arching his back, he looked up into his father’s concerned eyes. “What time is it?” he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep.

“Past seven thirty. When you didn’t show up at the shop, I got worried. Aaron had to come get me to unlock the door.”

Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry,
Daed
.” He surveyed the kitchen once again. The fire had burned out in the stove, and a chill hung in the air. He spied two nearly full cups of cold coffee on the table. Then the prior evening’s events replayed in his mind.

Soon after Moriah had told him about the baby, he had managed to convince her to go upstairs and sleep. Despite the fatigue that had seeped into her features, she had resisted. Finally, she agreed to rest for the baby’s sake. He had planned to stay up, to be there if she needed him. Sometime during the night he must have fallen asleep on the table.

The impact of her pregnancy continued to swirl around in his brain. A baby. Moriah was pregnant, and her husband gone. His heart squeezed in his chest at the thought of the pain she must be going through. There was no option of divorce in their faith. Levi would be her husband until death, whether he was here or not.

“Gabe? Are you gonna tell me what’s going on here or am I gonna have to drag it out of you?”

His father’s voice yanked him out of his musings. Gabe looked at the old man, dread spinning in his gut. He didn’t want to tell him about Levi, but he had no choice. He couldn’t prolong it; his father would find out soon enough anyway. Unless . . .

Unless Levi came back.

Once his brother knew about the baby, he’d have to return. He’d put away self-centeredness for the sake of his wife and child. They would work out their problems and be the family God intended them to be. Then his father wouldn’t have to know anything about his son’s betrayal.

Gabe popped up from his chair, his decision made. “I need you to do me a favor,
Daed
.”

A bewildered expression crossed the older man’s face. “Sure,
sohn
. Anything. But I still want to know what’s going on.”

“You will, soon enough.” He went outside and grabbed a few chunks of wood, then started the fire in the stove. The wood crackled as the fire burned through the bark. He dumped the stale contents of the coffeepot in the sink, then started a fresh brew. Moriah would probably want a cup once she awakened.

“Gabriel?” John questioned, sitting down at the table. “Are you going to tell me what you need me to do or not?”

“Sorry. Can you stay with Moriah? She’s upstairs, asleep. She’s not feeling well.”

John raised his bushy brows in surprise. “Where’s Levi?”

Gabe hesitated for a moment before answering. “Gates Mills,” he said.

John frowned. “He didn’t come home last night?”

“He had some extra work to do.” Gabe checked the stove again, even though the fire was at the perfect temperature. He hated lying to his father, and he couldn’t look at him while falsehoods flew out of his mouth. But it was necessary, at least for the moment. “Levi will be back later tonight.”
Lord willing
.

That simple explanation seemed to pacify John. “Good. I have half a mind to tell that boy to quit working for those Yankees. We need him here. It isn’t as if we’re desperate for money. The Lord has seen fit to provide us with everything we need.”

“
Ya,
He has.” Eager to end the conversation before his father asked more questions, Gabe searched the kitchen for his hat and coat, then remembered he left them up front. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, inhaling the rich scent of coffee brewing. “I’ll be gone for part of the day,
Daed
. Please stay here and keep an eye on Moriah. I’ll close the shop, but Aaron can do a few things in there. If I’m not back by the time he’s finished, go ahead and send him home.”

“That’s a fine boy you hired,” John said. “I can tell he’s going to be a
gut
worker. Hard to believe he spent time in jail.”