Beside Still Waters (35 page)

Mem looked at her, staring deep into her eyes as if trying to determine the truth. Moisture filled her eyes as if she was realizing the reality of Marianna's leaving. Or maybe . . .

Maybe she saw within Marianna's gaze that her daughter's motives weren't as pure as either hoped.

"You've always had a kind heart." Mem rose and turned to the window, gazing out at the mountains in the distance. The message was clear. She didn't agree with Marianna, but she didn't object either.

Marianna turned back to her boss. Make that former boss. "I hope you don't mind, Annie. I'll make you another quilt."

Annie laughed. "I don't mind, but I'll hold you to that."

Marianna looked to the freshly laundered quilt one last time. She looked to the stitching, remembering Ben's words:
"If our Creator so carefully designed this mountain valley and filled it with such beauty, how could you not trust in His extravagant love?"

She'd thought about those words so many times as she finished the quilt. She'd put so much care and attention into the colors, the patterns, the stitching—and it was only fabric. How much more thought and care did God put into her?

She wasn't a replacement for her sisters and she never would be. God had a good design just for her.

She just wished she was more confident that her design included going back to Indiana. She'd found God in a new way here. Ben had given her glimpses of the type of friend God could be. The quilt seemed so inadequate as a thank you—but it was all she had.

She returned the quilt to the box and then hurried to her mom, pulling her into an embrace with Joy pressed between them. "I'm going to miss you . . ."

"You don't have to go."

"I know." Marianna swallowed. "I don't have to, but I need to. I need to go back and . . ." She couldn't finish the sentence. And see if she still fit? If Aaron still cared? To see if the presence of God that she felt by the still water of the pond could be found there, too?

She bent down and kissed the top of Joy's soft head. "Don't grow up too fast." Then she turned and noticed Charlie, Josiah, and Ellie standing in the hall. They'd woken up to tell her good-bye after all.

She lifted her skirt so it wouldn't tear, and then knelt on one knee, opening her arms to them. Ellie and Josiah rushed forward, and Charlie limped over to join them. "Be good for Mem and Dat,
ja?
"

Even as she released them, her heart ached. Was she was making the right choice? She stood and turned away. Right or not, the decision was made.

"I'm ready."

They walked to Annie's car, and Annie put her boxes in the back. Marianna climbed in. Trapper whined at the door and she stroked his fur one last time. Tears filled her eyes. "I'm so sorry I have to leave you." Then she pushed him away and shut the car door, staring down the dirt road, straight ahead. She didn't look back to see if Mem and the little ones waved. She didn't let herself dwell on the fact she hadn't said a last good-bye to her father, Uncle Ike, or David. That she hadn't been able to hand the quilt to Ben herself. To see him, one last time . . .

"If we hurry, we can make it on time." Annie started the engine, and the car picked up speed. "Sometimes the train is late. Let's hope it is by a few minutes today."

"Yes. That'll be good."

Marianna's hands gripped the armrest as the small car sailed over the potholes. And she lowered her head. In a strange way she'd even miss those stupid holes in the road. After all, they led her to her family.

To her home.

A few dozen people waited outside the station, lined up and prepared to board the train. Her boxes had already been checked, and Marianna's hands were empty except for her ticket and a small satchel her mom had packed with food for the trip.

"I got you something." Annie held up a paper bag. "It's a new book about two boys who get lost in the woods near West Kootenai and spend the winter there. I've read it three times and thought it would keep your mind occupied during the ride."

"Thank you." For the briefest second she remembered her dreams and her own refuge in the woods. She forgot to say good-bye to that place too.

"Say good-bye to Edgar for me. And all the customers too." Marianna watched as the attendants opened the doors and motioned her to board.

"Call me when you get there. Or write." Annie brushed her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder and gave Marianna a hug. "Just find a way to let me know you're okay. And come back soon with new recipes. My customers will love it!"

Marianna nodded, sure that if she tried to respond she'd start crying.

"Now get on, will you." Annie patted her back and gave her a push forward. "I need to get back to the store to check on Edgar. Got to make sure he didn't put the ice cream in the oven and the cookie dough in the freezer." She chuckled, and Marianna forced a smile.

"Okay, I'll see you soon." Then, before she could change her mind, she hurried to the train, up the steps, and into the closest open seat. Her legs quivered, and her stomach felt sick. She'd left Indiana awash in anger and a feeling of injustice. But as a whistle blew, and the train prepared to pull away from the station and she turned to focus on the seatback in front of her, sadness and a deep missing of her family and her friends gripped her heart.

"Dear God, am I doing the right thing?"

In her mind it made sense. She smoothed her apron, and then touched her kapp. She'd grown up knowing what was right. Her whole life she'd had one goal . . . but now?
Lord, I need wisdom. I need to know I'm making the right choice.
Marianna closed her eyes, not wanting to see the station disappear behind her. Not wanting to see the mountains.
God, if I'm making the wrong decision, please show me.
She felt someone sit beside her. She thought of the man on the first train ride and her stomach clenched. Fear tightened her neck and she opened her mouth, preparing to cry for help. Then opened her eyes.

Dat?

Her father sat there next to her, smiling.

"What are you doing? The train. It's going." She looked out the window and saw the station already behind them.

"I bought a ticket. Just made it." He rubbed his beard.

Confusion filled her mind. "You're coming back to Indiana with me?"

"No, I'm not. The ticket's to West Glacier. It's about a thirty-minute ride. I thought it would give us a chance to talk. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you left."

Her chest filled with joy. Dat was here. He'd come. She wrapped her hands around his arm. Her father sat up straighter, and though she knew physical touch wasn't common among the Amish, she didn't want to let go. She held her breath, wondering what her father would say if she told him that his being there was the answer to the prayer she'd just prayed!

"I understand why you weren't there, Dat. With the fire and everything. Did you find the horses?" Why was she talking about that when she had a dozen other questions to ask? Why had he come? Was it just to stay good-bye?

"We found one of the horses. Two are still lost, but there is a group still looking."

"I'm sorry they lost their barn." Marianna knew she was rambling, but it was hard to believe her father was sitting next to her.

"Me too, but I think they will be all right."

"Too bad there wasn't more Amish. They could do a barn raising."

"Oh, the people in the community are already talking about that. You know something, Mari, I don't think you have to be Amish to help your neighbor. The folks around the West Kootenai do a good job of that, Amish or not."

"Yes, they do."

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Dat turned to her. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Words crowded into her throat, then caught.

Dat's tone softened. "Maybe you should come back home for a while. Give yourself time to think. When I saw you'd left your quilt there . . . well, I knew I had to come talk to you. You were leaving an important part of you, and I had to make sure you still felt this was right. We still have a place for you. You don't have to leave."

"I can't go back. I'm . . ." She swallowed. Should she tell him? Should she be honest? She looked into his eyes and knew the answer. "I'm afraid."

"What are you afraid of?"

She didn't answer his question right away, and not because she worried what he'd think. Instead she didn't want to verbalize all the things that had been going on in her mind. As long as she didn't actually say them, it was as though they couldn't be real.

Finally she blew out a breath.

"I'm afraid I'll get too familiar with the Englisch. I'll forget how things are supposed to be. I'll forget what it's like to live in a real Amish community, where the boundaries for what is right and wrong are clear. I'm afraid that I'll stray from the right path and not know it."

"Are you afraid that you'll lose Aaron?" Her father's voice was gentle.

Marianna lowered her head. "Yes, I'm afraid of that, too."

She was also afraid about her feelings for Ben, but she still couldn't tell him that. Those were feelings she didn't even want to admit to herself.

"Is that what you want, Marianna? Do you want to return to that place? To that life?"

"Oh, Dat"—tears prickled her eyes—"I don't know! I like it here. I think Montana is beautiful. But well, I always thought my life would go one way, and I don't know anything other than that. I don't know what to dream in its place."

"Well, I don't have an answer for you, except to say if you're leaving because of fear, that's the wrong choice. Why don't you come back until you know."

She stared at her father, letting his words soak in. "You mean . . . it's possible to have peace over a decision like this?"

Dat nodded. "It's a peace that comes even when you can't know the future. It's the peace that comes knowing that God is already there."

Marianna looked down at their joined hands, then back up into Dat's face. She'd never heard him talk this way before. Not to the men at church, not even to Mem. Certainly he'd never talked to her before of such things. Could it be . . .

Had her dat also found God in a new way here in this new place?

"Dat, it's not just Montana—the place. There's so much more."

"Tell me, Mari." He stroked his beard, his gaze intent on hers. That was all she needed. Something broke free inside and her words poured forth. She told him about praying aloud, and about God's answers. Told him how God had calmed Charlie and her own heart when she asked.

And though he didn't say much, she could tell. He understood.

As she talked, a certainty grew within her. All her questions, all her doubts . . . she'd been doing what Dat said, pushing them aside out of fear. But she needed to listen to them.

Needed even more to listen to the One who could answer them.

If she went back to Indiana now, that wouldn't happen. She'd go back to the old ways, back to praying in silence, to not talking about God as though He were a friend.

And she couldn't do that.

A jerk of motion started her from her thoughts. The train was stopping.

Dat straightened beside her. "This is where I'm getting off. You coming with me?"

Marianna didn't hesitate. She rose. "Yes."

He smiled at her resolute response. "But I have one question." She looked out at the platform, then back up at Dat. "How are we going to get home?"

Dat motioned her to follow, and when they got off the train she saw it. A small blue truck with a yellow camper. Trapper sat in the front seat, his head sticking out of the window.

And then she saw Ben's hand, waving her home.

Marianna listened as her dat talked to the baggage handler about unloading her things, and then she walked to the truck.

Halfway there Trapper leapt from the window of the driver's side door and darted to her.

"Trapper!" The dog reached her and jumped, his paws muddying her skirt. His tail wagged at double speed and short yips both scolded and welcomed her.

"Don't worry, boy. I'm back."

She hunched down and grabbed him up in her arms. Hearing footsteps on the gravel, she brushed off her skirt and rose.