Beyond Hope's Valley: A Big Sky Novel (11 page)

Dear Marianna,

My words cannot tell you how thankful I am that you've returned to Indiana and have agreed to marry Aaron Zook. Although I am not thankful you are far away, you've made the best choice. You haven't been gone but a few days, and I miss you already. What I am thankful for is that you have returned to the way of our ancestors, that you did not fall to the temptation of the outside world as I did for a time. You are stronger than I, dear daughter.

There are those our hearts turn to, who will lead us the wrong path. Even as I know it is right for you to return to Indiana, I also know that it may be right for me to stay away. My heart demands a fresh start . . .

Marianna paused, and she thought again of the van driver who'd picked her and Aaron up at the train station. Could he be the man Mem had cared about so long ago? A chill traveled down her spine. He had mentioned her mother, had he not? He stated Marianna looked like her. She hadn't seen him before, but he seemed to know her. Seemed to be a part of her mother's past. She thought about what the driver had told Levi, "
Your mother and I were friends for many years. She's a special woman."

If it was the same man, what would Mem think to know he was back in town? If so, she might
never
wish to return—even for a visit. Marianna's lips compressed. She placed the letter on her lap and wiped a hand across her forehead. Even though she hadn't pursued her relationship with Ben, as Mem had with Mark, she understood the depths of where one's feeling could plunge.

Marianna wilted against the pillows on her bed. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she let the memories carry her back for just a moment. Talking to Ben at the auction. The tight hug he'd given her at her father's birthday party. The way he'd tried to save Ellie's color-book from the puddle within five minutes of their meeting.

She had other memories of Aaron, more memories. Aaron walking barefoot in the creek and the smile of a freckled-nosed boy of thirteen. Yet, how come the thoughts of him did not stir her in the same way?

"Love is a choice," she told herself. She would love Aaron. She
did
love Aaron. The love she had for him was something that would last—not the swelling emotions brought on by a man who had no right to her heart.

The scent of his loafing shed welcomed Aaron as he entered. With winter set, the cows and young cattle nestled inside. Taking a look around, he saw a fresh calf was in the stall box along with hogs and chickens tucked in their spots. It was good to be here—to have his own space. Although he appreciated the extra time to get to know Marianna in Montana, nothing about that place appealed to him. The mountains were beautiful, but he missed the wide open plains and rolling hills. He did not like the friendships between the Amish and Englisch. Did not like Ben Stone being anywhere near Marianna.

He wasn't blind. He'd seen the way Ben and Marianna's eyes found each other across crowded rooms. Aaron considered giving Marianna the rest of the letters he'd written when she first left Indiana for Montana. He'd given her two already and he'd seen her response. After she read them all, she'd be even more committed to their marriage and all thoughts of Ben would vanish. Yet part of him held back. They shared more inside than he'd ever shared with another person.

After we're married,
he convinced himself.

The door to the loafing shed opened, and Aaron's eyes widened as his mother walked in. He could count on one hand the number of times he saw her in the "menner's territory." He studied her face, hoping nothing was the matter.

"Mem?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Do ya want to tell me what's on your mind? What's going on with you and Marianna? You were so happy when you left to show her the house and you returned not so happy."

He cast her a glance and then filled the feeding bins with ground ear corn and silage.

"Aaron?"

"Nothing. It may be my leg, the pain, that's the problem." He rubbed it for emphasis.

"
Ja
, well if there is a problem . . . I offer a listening ear. I wouldn't blame ye if you need to talk. Everyone speaks of a difference in Marianna already."

"Everyone? Who's had a chance to see her? She's hardly left the house yet. Has her aunt been saying things?"

"Well now, I'm not one to be speaking what I have no business to say."

Not in front of me, that is.

Aaron knew his mother had no qualms about sharing her "concerns" with friends.

When Mem left, Aaron braced an arm on the wall and hung his head. The truth was he didn't know what bothered him. He'd waited to show Marianna the house for so long and finally had the chance. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he'd dreamt about it for too many nights. Maybe he'd put too many expectations about how Marianna should react. Maybe it was what he hid that bothered him even more than what he'd revealed.

Should he have told her the truth about Naomi?

Marianna had assumed she'd been the only woman who'd sat on that bed and enjoyed the view. He didn't have the heart to tell her that Naomi had done so . . . more than once. It would lead to too many questions.

Questions about things he didn't want to think about . . . let alone confess.

Dear Marianna,

I wonder when I'm going to give you this letter. Part of me wants to put it in today's mail. Another part tells me to wait. Wait until I know your heart. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the Amish way: gentle, simple, peaceful, forgiving.

Although the Amish are sometimes called simple people, we both know that is not the case. The Amish love, laugh, celebrate, mourn like any other human. There is nothing simple about their emotions. There is nothing simple about my emotions.

When you left I thought a lot about the Amish response to life. There is so much that must be "given up": modern conveniences, normal society, one's right to himself or herself. Only equal to that is the determination not to give in. Not to give in to the trappings of wealth, give in to pride, give in to temptations of what they ought not have.

I'm sad to say I've given in to many temptations. I'm not the man that I see in your eyes when you look at me. I wish I were.

Yet since I've known you, one thing that has not failed is my love for you. It's hard to explain, hard to deny.

Do you love me as much as I love you? I wish you were here with me now. One glimpse in your eyes and I think I would know.

Why do you have to be so far away, my sweet Marianna? Why couldn't you be tucked next to my side? Dream of me tonight if you would.

Written with the pen of the man who loves you more than you know.

Naomi entered the dawdi haus without knocking and then moved to the back bedroom. She'd seen Levi leaving thirty minutes ago and she'd waited near the back porch for fifteen minutes, making sure he wasn't going to come back.

She entered the bedroom and paused in the doorway. At first she'd planned to stay in this house, but her parents didn't like the idea of her being in her grandparents' cabin alone. She ended up staying in her room, and her older sister Judith moved in with their younger sisters. It worked better that way since Levi didn't have a home to return to once he became Amish again.

She'd cleared out her things weeks ago, until she remembered something she'd tucked away on a high closet shelf. Naomi just hoped Levi hadn't stumbled upon the drawing.

She entered the bedroom that smelled of Levi—of his manly presence and the Englisch cologne he still wore. Her heart hammered.

Turning to the closet, she hurried over and stood on her toes. Her fingers brushed the edge of a piece of paper and she let out a sigh.
It's still here.

Naomi pinched her fingers on the edge of the paper and pulled. She didn't know why she kept the drawing. She'd be horrified if anyone saw it.

Aaron had drawn her with her kapp off, hair down, and apron sitting beside her. He'd used colored pencils to capture the red of her hair. She bit her lip and ran her finger over her captured image. She'd never considered herself beautiful until Aaron drew her like this, but she couldn't risk the chance of Levi finding it and asking questions. With one smooth motion she ripped it in half. Taking those two pieces she ripped them again, and continued ripping, until only small pieces remained in her hands.

Only then her breathing slowed.

She carried the small pieces in her hand and placed them in the trash, hiding them under potato peels. Relief lessened the tension in her chest. Still, she didn't feel whole. The evidence was destroyed but the deeds would never be undone. Her heart felt like the paper—torn and in pieces. Naomi placed a hand over her growing stomach.

When had everything gone so wrong?

H
e finished the concert, his mind and heart heavy for the words he had shared, the song he had sung.

He stood at a back table and noticed the line growing for autographs. His head ached and his eyelids weighed a hundred pounds.