Leah's Choice (22 page)

“Just let me talk to you,” he begged.

It pained her to hear him crying, but she didn’t answer. And finally, after nearly an hour, she heard his footsteps on the steps and the crunch of gravel. The truck door shut, the engine roared to life and Daniel drove out of her life.

Chapter Seventeen

B
ack home, the house was teeming with people. Mam, Susanna and Johanna sat in the parlor while friends and neighbors offered condolences and promised to offer prayers for Wilmer. Lydia and Fannie were there, as well as Wilmer’s sister and Aunt Martha. For once, Aunt Martha had nothing critical to say. She’d hugged Johanna, offered to help in any way she could and took baby Katy to Rebecca and Dorcas in the backyard.

Leah asked Mam what she should do first. In moments, she and Ruth were laying white material out on the floor in the upstairs hall. Ruth went up to the attic and came down with an old suitcase. In it was a pattern that Mam had used to make their father’s funeral clothes, and they used that to pin and cut the garments that Johanna would need to sew for Wilmer.

Leah tried not to think about Daniel, about what she’d said to him, about how she’d hurt him. She hoped he wouldn’t hate her, and she wished there had been some other way to send him away. She felt empty inside, as cold and black as a fireplace when the last coals have gone out and the winter wind blew down the chimney. She told herself that she’d done the right thing, the only thing. Only a selfish woman would have put her own happiness ahead of her sister’s need. This was where she belonged…where God wanted her.

She was busy through supper and afterwards. It wasn’t until after Katy and Jonah had been tucked into bed with Mam, and an exhausted Johanna had retired to her room, that Leah had time to think. Anna, Ruth and Miriam had gone home, promising to come back first thing in the morning. Samuel had taken the last load of
Grossmama
’s things to his house. The neighbors had left, and only Rebecca, Irwin and Aunt Jezebel remained at the kitchen table talking and eating slices of a pie that Anna had baked.

But Leah didn’t want to join them. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, and she didn’t want pie. She didn’t care if she ever ate again. She wanted to be alone, but she could think of no place in the house that didn’t have someone sleeping there. Even the parlor was taken. Wilmer’s sister refused to stay at his house, and Mam had gotten Miriam and Irwin to make up a borrowed air mattress in the parlor for her. Leah thought of going outside, maybe to sit on the porch and look at the stars, but that would mean going through the kitchen, and Rebecca would want to know why she was going outside at ten o’clock at night. And worse, she might ask why Daniel hadn’t come to offer his condolences.

Instead, Leah found matches in a hall closet, lit a kerosene lantern and carried it up two flights of stairs to the attic. The third story had once been used as bedrooms; now it was just storage. And like the rest of the house, Mam believed in keeping it free of dust and cobwebs. When she was small, Leah had loved to come up here with her sisters to play games on rainy days. The rooms on either end of the attic had exposed brick chimneys. No fireplaces or stoves, but the heat from the downstairs warmed the bricks and made the space cozy, even on a damp and windy day. The room on the west end held furniture not needed downstairs, and it was to this retreat that Leah fled and finally let the tears fall.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there when she heard footsteps on the bare wood floors. For just an instant,
Grossmama
’s ghost stories surfaced in her mind and gooseflesh rose on the back of her neck. But then, her own good sense took over, and she called out, “Who’s there?” A shadowy figure appeared and Leah’s breath caught in her throat. “Who—”

“Child, child, whatever are you doing up here all by yourself?”

“Aunt Jezzy?”

“I wondered who’d found my secret spot. Why, Leah, sweet, you’ve been crying.” Aunt Jezebel sat down beside her on the day bed mattress. “Weeping for poor lost Wilmer or your sister?”

Leah tried to answer, but found herself sobbing uncontrollably. Aunt Jezzy put her arms around her and pulled her against her soft bosom. “There, there, child. It will be all right. It will. God’s in his heaven, and Wilmer’s in a better place. As bad as things look right now, Johanna will be happy again someday. I promise you that.”

“Ne…ne.”
Another round of sobbing followed. “It’s…it’s me I cry for,” Leah wailed. “Oh, Aunt Jezzy, I sent Daniel away. He wanted to marry me…and now I’ll never see him again.”

“Shh, shh.” Her great aunt patted Leah’s back. “Sent him away? But I thought you loved him.”

“I did…I do, but now…” The words tumbled out, one after another, and by the time Leah had finished explaining why she’d had to do what she’d done, her storm of tears had passed.

The older woman fumbled in her apron pocket and produced a clean, white handkerchief. “Blow,” she ordered, handing Leah the handkerchief. Leah did as she was told. “We all thought you were going to marry him and turn Mennonite,” Aunt Jezzy said. “Even Hannah thought so.”

“I was,” Leah said faintly. “But after what’s happened…Johanna needs me. Mam needs me. It would be wrong to go and leave them in the midst of all this trouble.”

“Wrong, is it?”

“And selfish to want to go,” Leah said.

Her great aunt shook her head. “Child, I don’t believe that. You don’t have a selfish bone in your body. I saw how you looked after Levina when she broke her hip. She’s not an easy person, and she has a sharp tongue, but you persevered. She’s my sister and your grandmother, but there are times, I can tell you, I’ve wished her at the far end of the country from me. So, don’t tell me you’re selfish.
Ne,
I won’t accept that.”

Leah sniffed. “I’m sure staying home…I’m sure it’s what God would want me to do.”

Aunt Jezebel arched one graying eyebrow. “Certain, are you?”

“I think so.” Leah nodded. “Yes, I’m certain of it.”

“Well, I think you’re wrong.” She used the corner of her apron to wipe a tear off Leah’s cheek. “Listen to me, child. I wasn’t always a withered old woman that some people call touched in the head. I had a beau, a poor boy without a horse or a buggy or an acre to his name, but I loved him. My mother and father were set against him, and so I refused his offer of marriage and sent him away.”

“And you were sorry afterwards?”

“Sorry every day of my life,” Aunt Jezzy said. “He married someone else, had children, worked hard, made a good life. She was happy, his wife. It could have been me if I’d had the courage to follow my heart instead of listening to other folks.”

“It’s why you never married.”

“Never found anyone else who held a candle to him. Didn’t want second best. Maybe I’m a one-man woman, a foolish one, but faithful. You see, Leah, I think God sent Benjamin to me, hard though the road might have been, and I turned my back on him.” She pursed her lips. “Why do I think you’re making the same mistake?”

“But Johanna needs me.”

“Johanna would want you to be happy, Leah. She would want you to find a good man, to marry him and to live the best life you can. You’re not indispensible. Johanna has a circle of family here to help her. Have you thought that you might be using Johanna’s sorrow as an excuse to keep you from taking a leap of faith?”

* * *

They slept there, the two of them, on that daybed in the attic…or rather Aunt Jezzy slept. Leah lay awake, dry eyed, praying and thinking. And when the first rays of dawn spread coral feathers of light across the sky in the east, she crept down the stairs and out to the barn.

She was harnessing Blackie to Dat’s buggy when Miriam came into the stable to start the morning milking. “Coming in late or going out early?” her sister asked.

“I’m going to Daniel,” Leah said. Her voice was husky from lack of sleep, but she wasn’t a bit tired. “I made a mistake. I turned down his offer of marriage, but I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to marry him if he’ll still have me.”

Miriam frowned. “I was afraid of that.”

“Don’t be angry with me. It feels right,” Leah said. “Daniel feels right to me. I think this is what was always meant to happen…for one of us to go back to the faith Mam left for Dat.”

Miriam nodded. “I’ll take the rails down. It hasn’t rained in days. You’ll make better time if you cut across the pasture, let yourself out of the woods’ gate and follow the logging trail to the road beyond Samuel’s.”

“Tell Mam and the others where I’ve gone.”

“I will.” She stepped close and touched Leah’s cheek. “It wouldn’t be my choice, but maybe it is the right one for you. Daniel’s a good man.”

“I think Dat would have liked him.”

Miriam chuckled and began to check the straps on the gelding’s harness. “I think Dat would have run him off this farm with a pitchfork. Go with God, little sister. And mind Blackie. He’s full of ginger this morning.”

* * *

Miriam was right about Blackie. By the time they reached the hard road, the horse was eager to go. He started off at a smooth trot, his shod hooves flying over the pavement. But Leah didn’t care. This was one time that she wanted Blackie to go as fast as he could. She had to get to Daniel and tell him how foolish she’d been.

But when she pulled into the driveway of Joyce and Allan’s house, the first thing Leah saw was the empty spot where Daniel always parked his truck.
He’s gone,
she thought.
I’m too late. I’ve really lost him.
She didn’t cry; there were no tears left. She was turning Blackie around in the yard when Daniel’s aunt came out the back door and saw her.

“Leah? What are you doing here?”

Leah stared at her, numbly. How could she explain what she’d done? How wrong she’d been? “I was looking for Daniel,” she called raggedly.

“You just missed him. He has a flight out of Baltimore.” Joyce approached the buggy. “He loves you, Leah. I’m so sorry about your sister, and sorry that the two of you couldn’t…” She broke off, obviously choked up with emotion. “I know I wasn’t as welcoming as I should have been. It’s just that we think of Daniel as our own son, and we didn’t want to see him hurt.”

“I understand,” Leah said, turning the reins in her hands. “My mother was against it, too. She was afraid that we…that it wouldn’t…”

“I was wrong,” Joyce said. “When we saw how Daniel was last night, Allan and I realized that we should have been more supportive. We want you to know that you’re always welcome in our home and at our worship services.”

“Thank you,” Leah said, looking out into the barnyard. “He’s really gone?”

“Yes.” Joyce nodded. “I’d offer to call him for you, to see if I could get him to turn around and come back, but he left his cell phone in the bathroom. You know how he is. That boy would leave his head if it wasn’t attached.”

Leah nodded. “I know how he is.”
How he was,
she thought. Aunt Jezebel was right. She had been so busy trying to guess what God wanted her to do that she hadn’t been listening to His answer. He’d sent her a wonderful man to be her husband, and she’d sent him away because she was too scared to put her trust in Him. She lowered her head and then looked up again. “I’m sorry to bother you. I guess I’ll just go home.”

“No bother at all. Tell your sister how sorry we are. Some of us from the church will be bringing over food next week. I’m sure you’re well stocked now. And we’d like to come by and pay our respects, if that’s all right.”

“Yes,” Leah said. “Johanna would like that, I’m sure.” She waved to Joyce and turned Blackie’s head down the drive. Her great aunt’s words echoed in her head.
“Sorry every day of my life…”
Moisture clouded her vision and she blinked away hot salt tears. “Oh, Daniel, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “So sorry.”

Suddenly, Blackie came to an abrupt halt, planted all four feet and reared in the traces. At the same instant, the pickup truck that had turned into the drive screeched to a stop, tires sliding in the gravel, and Daniel flung himself out of the driver’s door.

“Leah!”

“Daniel!”

She pulled hard on the reins, and when the buggy stopped rocking, she jumped down and ran to catch hold of Blackie’s bridle. Daniel rushed toward her, and together they settled the horse. Somehow in the excitement, Daniel’s aunt and uncle had come out of the house.

“Let me hold that horse,” Allan said.

“Thank you,” Leah and Daniel said at the same time.

Daniel caught hold of Leah’s arm and pulled her around to the back of the house and into the relative seclusion of the grape arbor. “You’re here,” he said. “I thought… You told me… But you’re here.”

She was breathless, giddy. Her knees felt weak. “You left,” she managed. “You left for the airport.”

“I forgot my ticket.”

Leah began to laugh. “And your cell phone.”

“My phone, too?” He pulled her into his arms. “Tell me that I’m not dreaming. That you’re really here? That you’ve changed your mind?”

“You’re not dreaming,” she murmured. “I’m here, and I changed my mind.”

“Why? Why would you ever want to be with such a dunce who can’t even get to the airport with all his belongings?”

“Hush,” she said, slipping her arms around his neck and raising on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Because I love you and want to marry you.”

“Really?”

“Daniel Brown, will you quit talking and kiss me?”

And when he finally did kiss her, there was no need for them to say anything else at all.

Epilogue

Amazon Rain Forest—Eighteen Months Later…

“W
ake up, wife.” Daniel kissed the tip of Leah’s nose.

She stirred, snuggled down deeper into her bed and pulled the pillow over her head. Daniel sat on the mattress beside her and bounced.

“Mmm,” Leah murmured. “Just a little longer.”

Daniel laughed. “Open your eyes, darling. I have a surprise for you.”

Groaning, she pulled the pillow aside and peeked up at him. Daniel waved a thick brown envelope in front of her nose.