Beside Still Waters (32 page)

"Yes," she whispered.

"I didn't tell you the whole truth. I think you should know."

Marianna sat, waiting.

Ben lifted his chin and looked to her. "I worked up here one summer and then went home. I was living my dream, Mari. My band was a hit. I had a girlfriend in every town. I had money to do what I wanted."

She crossed her arms over her chest, not sure if she wanted to hear this. Not sure if she wanted to change the image of Ben she'd built in her mind.

"My band included four other guys. We lived together in an apartment. We went to school during the day and drank every night. On the weekends we'd have parties. I thought I was having the time of my life—" Tears filled Ben's eyes, and she thought he would stop. Instead, he cleared his throat and continued.

"One weekend we were having a ton of fun. We'd stocked up on alcohol for a big football game, but I don't think we ever got around to turning on the TV to watch it. One of the guys, Jason, was upset because he and his girlfriend had just broken up. He usually didn't drink and said he'd have a beer that night to make himself feel better. Every time he'd have a sip, one of us guys would top it up." Ben offered a sad smile. "I'm not sure why he didn't realize he never drank that beer even halfway down, but he didn't."

Trapper whined beside Marianna, as if he were listening to the story. She stroked his fur and then turned her eyes back to Ben.

"We let him finish that one beer and then he kept drinking more. We thought it was funny—he was always the one who'd tell us not to drink too much.

Well . . ." Ben lifted his head and looked to the treetops. "Jason passed out that night and we left him on the couch. I think one of us even snapped some photos to tease him the next day. The thing was, there was no next day for him. He died that night. From alcohol poisoning."

Shock race through her. "Oh Ben, I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't two weeks later I left that lifestyle and headed up here. It took a while, but I found God in this place. I hated myself until I accepted His forgiveness."

They sat there for a while, both staring at the ripples of the wind on the surface of the pond.

"All of us had to go to court and had to confess our part in Jason's death," Ben finally continued. "His family didn't want jail time. Instead they asked us to do something instead. Each week I'm e-mailed a name of a minor caught with alcohol. Each week I have to write a letter to that person and tell my story. His family wanted to make sure Jason would never leave my mind."

Marianna didn't know what to say, but she moved over and sat next to him, close enough for their elbows to touch. "Is it difficult?"

"It used to be, but now I see it as a chance to share God's love. He's changed me. I'm not the same person who left that place. He's given me peace, joy."

Marianna nodded, understanding in a way. And then her body stiffened as his hand reached over and took hers.

"I care for you, Mari. I—"

"No," the word escaped her lips and she stood. "You can't say that."

"But why? Surely you know . . ." He looked up at her. "I know what this means—you being Amish . . ."

"You don't." Marianna turned away. "You can't know." She touched her fingertips to her lips. She cared for him, but she knew that could lead to nothing good. To care meant she'd have to leave the Amish community . . . and her parents. They'd lost her sisters. They'd lost Levi. She couldn't walk away too.

And it was then Marianna knew what she had to do.

"I care for you, Ben, but I'm going back to Indiana. There's someone there who loves me very much. An Amish man."

Ben stood, approaching her. "And do you love him?"

Marianna didn't answer. Instead, she said, "I'm thankful, though, that I came here. I feel I've found God here in new ways. And I have you to thank."

"Mari . . . can't we talk?"

She shook her head, and then she took two steps forward.

"Can you at least look at me?"

She shook her head and continued on. To turn, she knew would be to see his face. And that . . . would be her undoing.

Ben could not be her choice. She had to go back to Aaron. She had to make sure Naomi didn't steal away her dream.

The next day at work Marianna approached Annie.

"Are you still interested in buying my quilt? I've decided to sell it after all."

"Really?" Annie put down the cup of coffee she'd been sipping on. "What's happened? Why have you changed your mind?"

"I've decided to return to Indiana. In two weeks."

"That's mighty soon."

"Yes, in a way it is, but I've been thinking about it for a while."

Annie nodded. "I see. Then in that case you better book the tickets. The price goes up less than two weeks out. Also, this time of year, the tickets sell out."

"Really? But that means I'll need a ride to Whitefish to buy the ticket."

"Oh no, I can book them on the Internet with my computer." Annie hurried to the back office of the store. Marianna followed. "If you tell me what you want I'll put it on my credit card. Then we'll just take it out of the money I'll owe you for your quilt."

Marianna bit her lip. "
Ja.
I would like to do that."

The process seemed too easy. Marianna told Annie the day she wanted to leave, and Annie pulled it up.

"You're in luck. There's only one ticket left, but it's nonrefundable." Annie pushed her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Marianna nodded. "Yes." She closed her eyes and pictured Aaron's face. She thought about the home he was preparing for her. She thought about her cedar trunk and all the days she'd spent thinking about her life. That life. She opened her eyes again. "Yes, I am sure."

Ordering the ticket was the easy part. Marianna had a harder time letting her parents know.

She waited until the children were in bed. She pulled out her quilt with plans to embroider Annie's name in it, but the quilt remained in her hands untouched.

Mem rocked in the rocking chair, breastfeeding Joy. "You've been quiet all night, Marianna. Do you have something you wanted to talk about?"

"I've decided to head back to Indiana sooner than expected. I . . ." She lowered her head. "I asked Annie to book the ticket."

Dat sighed. "Figured it was coming. You've been different. The last few days especially. You remind me of the look a horse gets when she's on her way home. She could still be fifteen miles away, but when she knows she's heading homeward it might as well be one mile."

"I understand." Mem's lower lip quivered as she placed Joy against her shoulder to burp. "You are a grown woman. You have a good future back there to look forward to." Mem wiped away a tear. "Thank you for coming, for helping. I couldn't have settled in without you."

Marianna thought about reminding her parents that they'd only be apart seven or eight months. After all, her parents' plan all along had been to come for a year. But Marianna couldn't get herself to ask if that was still the case. She was afraid of the answer.

She'd seen changes lately. Her mother was more settled, content. This was becoming home. Marianna was afraid that hearing them say they would not be back in May would cause her to rethink her own plans.

And she needed to go back. Needed to let Aaron know that she was ready to start their life together.

If only . . .

If only she could ease the ache brought on by her thoughts of leaving. If only she could forget about Ben. The way he looked at her. His relationship with God.

But she couldn't. Any more than she could understand why not.

Marianna set the large laundry basket by the back door and yawned. If it hadn't been for the fact that Joy would need laundered diapers soon, she'd still be in bed. Knowing that after she left Mem would need help with the laundry, Marianna had also woken the boys. Both of them sat at the kitchen table looking at her.

"Why aren't you at work again?" Charlie rubbed his eyes.

"Did you like it better when I worked?" Marianna sorted the clothes into piles.

"We didn't get up this early." Charlie swung his feet.

"Well, I told Annie that I needed to work at home and not at the store anymore. I need to get you two in shape. Mem's going to need all the help she can get after I leave. I was thinking that David can do the laundry, and Charlie start the fire to heat the water for the washer."

"But laundry is women's work," David complained.

Marianna looked at him, lifting her eyebrow.

"Never mind."

Charlie moaned. "Do I
have
to?"

"Didn't Dat show you how to do it yesterday?" Marianna gathered up all the baby things and put them into a basket.

Twelve-year-old old David elbowed his younger brother. "
Ja,
you need to start helping around here more. Mari's going to be leavin' soon and Mem needs our help."

Eight-year-old Charlie looked out the window, and his eyebrows frowned as he looked into the darkness that was just starting to lighten.

"Can we wait? No one needs hot water this early."

"Mem does for bathing the baby and the laundry." David stood. "Right, Marianna?"

"There ain't no Amish neighbors close by. No one's watching to make sure she gets those clothes out on the line before breakfast like in Indiana." Charlie walked closer to the window and looked around. Then he pressed his fingers to the glass and looked harder, as if trying to find some excuse for not having to go into the dark. Charlie placed his hat on his head and sucked in a breath, as if trying to get up the nerve to go out.

Marianna cocked her head and eyed her brother. No one had told Charlie that's how things had worked back in Indiana. No one needed to. Everyone kept their eye on their neighbor not to compare themselves . . . but just to make sure everyone was livin' as they ought.

As she looked at her brothers, with their ruffled hair and wide eyes, a twinge of sadness made Marianna's breaths heavier. She sucked in air, surprised by the small burden that piled on her chest over the thought of going back. Folks around the Kootenai kept an eye out too, but mostly to see if one needed an extra hand, needed help lightening their load.

David cuffed Charlie, sending his hat spinning from his head and skittering across the wood floor. "You're such a little kid. Are you afraid of the dark? Scared a deer might attack ya?"

"No!" Charlie turned and grabbed up his hat.

"That's enough, David. Jest because he wanted someone to go out with him doesn't mean he's scared. Maybe he just wants company. Did you think of that?"

"I don't want no one to come with me. Not anymore." Charlie opened the door and looked outside. "I can light the wood fire all by myself."

"No, I'll go with you." She slipped on her shoes. "But tomorrow you're going to have to learn how to do it alone."

The air was chilly as they stepped outside. Knowing winter would be coming on soon, Dat had placed the washing machine up on the back porch. The large kettle for heating the water for the machine still sat in the middle of the back yard, and Dat had already put wood under it last night. The large storage container was set up next to it.

"I'll put water in the kettle while you light the wood. Remember, don't use too much of the gasoline. Only a splash is needed to get the fire going."

"Will David have to do all the laundry?" Charlie asked.

"Yes, all of it."

He smirked. "Then I guess starting one little ole' fire isn't that bad."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN