Bygones (37 page)

To Marie’s chagrin, tears stung her eyes. A deep part of her longed to remain in the place of her birth, but Mitch’s actions—and Henry’s accusations—had sealed her fate. What she wanted didn’t matter anymore. She couldn’t stay. Not now.

Blinking, she cleared the tears from her eyes and forced her lips into a smile. In the brightest tone she could muster, she said, “This was to be a three-month adventure, right? And it’s nearing its end, so. . .” She flipped her wrists outward in a glib gesture she didn’t feel.

Beth crossed her arms and quirked a brow. “You aren’t fooling anybody.”

“Well, I—” Before she could complete the thought, a knock interrupted. She glanced at her wristwatch and frowned. “Visitors at this hour? I hope nothing’s wrong.” She hurried down the hallway to the front room with her daughter on her heels and pulled the curtains aside. Seeing Henry and Joanna standing on the porch, she glanced at Beth, who shrugged and said in a hard tone, “Might as
well let ’em in. Knowing both of them, they’ll stand out there in the cold until you do.”

Henry allowed Joanna to precede him through Marie’s front door. In the past, he had always entered this house through the utility porch in the back. Coming in the front door gave the visit a feeling of formality that left him vaguely unsettled. Yet he knew, given the topic that must be covered, formality would be a good shield for the emotions that churned in his belly.

Marie closed the door behind them, then stood, hugging herself, her wide-eyed gaze flitting from her sister to him. His heart plummeted when he scanned her attire. Blue jeans and a sweater. Standing there with Beth, who wore similar clothes, she seemed oceans away from him again.

Joanna stepped forward and embraced her sister, her white prayer cap and neatly pinned hair incongruous to Marie’s tousled, uncovered locks. Henry looked away, turning back only when Joanna touched his arm.

“Let’s all sit down.”

Henry appreciated her taking charge. His tongue felt thick, incapable of functioning. Fortunately he’d had full use of it when he went to Hugo and Joanna’s and told them what he’d found at the barn. The need to confide in someone, to seek someone’s advice, had overwhelmed him as he’d driven back to town earlier that evening. Not having Lisbeth to turn to, he chose the one who had most fully embraced Marie’s return. In Joanna he’d found his advocate, and her presence now gave him confidence that, together, they would get to the bottom of things.

Beth inched toward the double doors, her narrowed gaze boring a hole through Henry. “If you don’t need me, I’m going to my room.”
She pointed to her red nose. “Not feeling too good, you know?”

Marie crossed to her quickly and gave her a kiss on the cheek, whispering something to which Beth responded with a nod, before the girl disappeared around the corner. The evidence of Marie’s deep care for her daughter twisted Henry’s heart. It seemed to point, once again, to the extremes she would go to for Beth.

Marie sat in Lisbeth’s well-worn rocking chair, and both he and Joanna took seats on the sofa—Joanna at the end closest to Marie, he at the farthest end. Joanna stretched out her hand toward her sister, and Marie reached back.

“Marie, Henry made sure everyone knew where to find their belongings today. So all of the goods are back with their owners.”

Henry watched Marie closely. Her shoulders slumped slightly with the news, but she didn’t seem dismayed.

Joanna continued. “When he told us at the meetinghouse they’d been found, he didn’t tell us how he came to find them.” She glanced at Henry, then turned back to Marie. “He only told everything to Hugo and me. The town doesn’t know you were with the things when he found them.”

Marie’s face drained of color, and her gaze shifted in his direction. “Thank you.” The words came out in a wavering whisper. “You kept your word.”

He managed a nod. Yes, he had told her he wouldn’t tell—to protect Lisbeth’s memory. Yet he knew, deep down, he’d also done it to protect her.

“But Marie,” Joanna went on, capturing Marie’s attention, “we need to understand. You rejoined the church. You told us you wanted to stay. You—you weren’t being dishonest with us, were you?”

Marie’s pale face mottled with red. Henry’s heart pounded. Could that rush of high color indicate a guilty conscience? His body angled forward slightly, leaning toward Marie, inwardly praying for
her to share an explanation that would set everyone’s mind and hearts at ease.

“I wasn’t being dishonest.” Marie’s voice was tight, as if she were being strangled. “I truly wanted to regain fellowship and remain in Sommerfeld. But. . .” She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly, the splashes of pink fading from her cheeks with the dispelling of breath. “But apparently it isn’t meant to be.”

Joanna turned toward Henry. Her brows were low, her lips pursed. “Henry, I’m thirsty. Would you get me a glass of water, please?”

Henry nodded, understanding the silent message. She wanted time alone with Marie. He welcomed the distraction and the separation. Marie’s last statement had been like putting a knife through his heart. He headed for the kitchen with his head low, his heart aching.

The moment Henry disappeared through the dining room, Marie felt Joanna give her hand a sharp jerk. “All right, Marie,” her sister whispered, “we’re alone now, and I want the truth.”

Marie reared back, sending the rocker into motion. She stared at Joanna, surprised by the vehemence in her tone. “I—I—”

“And no avoidance! I don’t for one minute believe you had anything to do with the thefts.” Tears glittered in Joanna’s blue eyes, pain evident. “So you must be protecting somebody. It was Beth, wasn’t it? Beth and her boyfriend.”

Marie yanked her hand free and clasped it against her ribcage. She felt her own heartbeat against her hand. “No!” She, too, kept her voice low, but she matched Joanna in passion. “My daughter is not a thief!”

Joanna’s forehead crinkled. “Then who, Marie? Henry found footprints out there, man-sized, that didn’t match the boots our men wear.”

Even now, the reference to “our” made Marie’s heart pine with longing to be a part of that “our.”

“He suspects, as do I, that Beth’s boyfriend is involved.”

Marie looked away, certain her face would give away the truth. Joanna leaned forward, capturing her hand again. “Are our suspicions true?”

Marie’s chin quivered with the effort of holding back her secret. With a long sigh, Joanna released Marie’s hand and slumped back on the sofa. “Why are you protecting him?” Her voice reflected confusion. Suddenly she sat up straight again, her eyes wide. “Did he threaten you?”

Shaking her head, Marie faced her sister. “No. Not really. He just. . .”

Joanna leaned forward, bringing her face near. “What, Marie? Tell me.”

Her body trembled. Marie drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. Yet her voice quavered when she replied. “He just made me realize how terribly hurt Beth would be if she knew the truth about him. She loves him. . .and he’s a thief.”

Joanna sat in silence, her gaze never wavering from Marie’s, her brow knitted and her lower lip pulled between her teeth. She nodded, the movement so slight Marie almost sensed it rather than saw it. “I see.”

Marie thumped her feet on the floor and tipped the rocker forward, grasping both of Joanna’s wrists. “I can’t tell, Joanna—not without hurting Beth. And I can’t stay here with Henry thinking—” A dry sob burst out, and she lowered her head, regret weighing her down. “If only it could be different.”

Joanna raised her hands to cup Marie’s head and draw it to her shoulder. Marie sat within the circle of her sister’s arms, absorbing the love and understanding offered through the wordless embrace.

After long moments, Joanna spoke softly, her voice hoarse. “So you’ll let the one who loves you think you are capable of being involved in something morally and legally wrong in order to protect Beth’s feelings?”

Slowly Marie removed herself from Joanna’s hold. Settled against the back of Lisbeth’s wood rocker, she answered, “Yes.”

“I think you’re a fool.”

Marie nodded. “You’re right. I’m a fool for thinking I could come back. I would be miserable, trying to live here and attend the meetinghouse regularly with Dad feeling like he does. Maybe this is God’s way of sending me back to Cheyenne. That’s where I belong.”

Joanna’s eyes flooded with tears. “No, Marie.
Here
is where you belong. I’ve seen you blossom here. We all have—Henry and Hugo and Kyra and Deborah. How can you even think of leaving?”

“How can I even think of staying?” Marie countered. She released a sorrowful sigh. “No, God brought me back for a reason—to rediscover my relationship with Him. I’ve done that, and I know I’ll never let Him go again. So. . .at the end of Beth’s and my threemonth time period, I’ll move on.”

Her sister stood, glaring down at her. “You’re just as stubborn as our father. Well, I’m not going to argue with you. But I am going to pray very hard, between now and the end of the month, that God brings you to your senses.” Moving to the doorway leading to the dining room, she called, “Henry, I’m ready to go.”

Henry returned and followed Joanna to the front door. Marie remained in the rocking chair as he opened the door. Poised in the doorway, Joanna looked back.

“We’re all meeting at Mom and Dad’s after service Christmas Day for dinner and presents. This is your official invitation. You and Beth are my gift to me this year, so I expect you to be there.” She stepped outside. Henry followed, pulling the door closed behind him.

T
hrough the wall, Beth heard the front door latch and knew the guests had left. She flumped back on the creaky cot, her thoughts racing. No doubt Joanna and Henry had come to harass Mom about the stuff in the barn. She hoped her mother hadn’t told them anything. Not because she didn’t want the truth to come out, but because she wanted Mom to tell her before she told anyone else.

Her relationship with her mom had gone through some rough water lately, but once they were back in Cheyenne, things would settle down again. Maybe her business wouldn’t start off with the bang she’d imagined, but it would still start. Things would be okay. Especially with the new skills she’d picked up from Mrs. Davidson over in Newton.