Love Redeemed (24 page)

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. Michael should be here. He should be standing in that line outside, waiting and sweating with nerves. “Nee,” she whispered.

“Speak up, girl, I can't hear you.”

“I said no.” She didn't recognize her own voice. She sounded like another woman, someone soft-spoken and unsure of herself. He would never believe her. “Nothing. I'm ready.”

Luke studied her, his forehead furrowed. “You've had a rough patch of late. Are you sure you've nothing in your heart that stands in the way of this commitment to our faith? A commitment that is for the rest of your life?”

“There's nothing.” She managed to sound stronger. She had to move on. Michael was gone. She only had faith and family left. If she told Luke that he would tell her those were the most important things in this life. She was blessed, even if she felt an empty void inside her that no sermon seemed to fill, no matter how long it lasted or how deep it delved into matters of faith. “Nothing.”

Nothing. What she felt was nothing.

“Are you of a mind to go ahead with your baptism?”

“I am.”

Luke nodded, but he didn't rise. His gaze continued to search her face. Phoebe held herself rigid, determined not to look away. His gaze connected with hers and held. She saw kindness and concern there, but also a tiny smattering of something like disbelief.

He leaned back in his chair and tapped the table with his fingertips. “Go then. Wait outside with the others. Together, we'll return and we'll finish this, the most important thing you'll ever do.”

Phoebe waited outside while her friends took their turns. Each entered looking sick and petrified and returned with faces white with relief. Once again they traipsed back to the barn. Phoebe kept her gaze glued to the ground, determined not to stumble again. Inside, cool gave way to the heat of so many bodies crammed together on row after row of benches. The smell of sweat mingled with that of horses, hay, and manure. She'd barely relaxed on the front row bench when Luke called them forward.

Rachel went first, her head down, hands clasped in front of her. Molly glanced Phoebe's way, her expression saying
Here we go
. Phoebe forced a smile. Molly trembled.

Together they knelt, Daniel off to the other side.

“These young women and this young man have made a decision,” Luke began. “Today they will make a promise to Gott.”

Time stood still even as Phoebe's breath picked up speed. Luke asked her if she renounced the devil. Of course she did. The world. Jah. Did she commit to Christ? Again, jah. Did she accept the Ordnung? The words buzzed in her ears. She needed the Ordnung. She needed the rules. She clung to them when all else failed her. She couldn't be sure she'd opened her mouth and responded, but she must've, because Luke nodded and moved on.

Michael, Michael, why aren't you here?
She shut the question back in its box. Michael had left. She must go on alone. God demanded that. Teaching would give her a place in this community, a reason to go on, a way to give back. A way to make up for what she'd done. She would be good and God would forgive.

Eventually, so would Hannah and the others.

Lost in the moment, she started when her daed touched her shoulder. She bowed her head and he removed her prayer kapp with a soft touch that surprised her. His fingers didn't fumble with the pins. She glanced up at him as tears brightened the blue of his eyes. She wanted to say something. Thomas stepped forward, a wooden bucket in his hands. A tin cup floated on top.

Luke picked up the cup, and Phoebe closed her eyes and bowed her head.
God, give me this new beginning. Forgive me, Lord, forgive me.
The water poured over her head, trickled down her face like tears, soaking her front. Water. More water. Everywhere water.

“In the name of the Father”—another cup of water poured over her—“and the Son and the Holy Spirit.” A third cup of water.

She sank back on her haunches and rocked.

God. God. God.

A hand gripped her arm and she looked up into Luke's face. His eyes somber, he nodded and helped her to her feet.

“In the name of the Lord and the church, we extend to you the hand of fellowship. Rise up and be a faithful member of the church.”

She would. She would do everything she could to start anew.

Luke's fraa, Leah, came forward and delivered the holy kiss on Phoebe's cheek. “Welcome, sister.” She smiled and handed Phoebe her kapp. “Welcome.”

Phoebe didn't know where to turn first. Her legs trembled. In fact, her whole body trembled. She tried to identify the feelings running through her. Was this peace? It felt more like resignation. She'd done what she needed to do. What her parents needed her to do. She'd done the right thing. This was good. Her new start.

She shambled down the aisle, seeking the closest door. She needed air and sunlight so she could breathe and see clearly again.

“Phoebe.” Mudder stepped into her path. She didn't smile as she drew Phoebe into a hug. “I'm so glad for you. So glad.”

“I'm sorry, Mudder, for everything.”

“It's forgiven. This is your new start.” Mudder sniffed and dabbed at her nose with a handkerchief wadded in one hand. “Go on. You're excused from serving food today. Enjoy a moment with the others. I want to say a word to Molly and Rachel. I'm sure they'll be right behind you, once everyone finishes offering them welcome to the church.”

Lightheaded with relief at being released, Phoebe squeezed past folks immersed in conversation and stumbled into the brilliant October sun. It blinded her as it had done before. A dark figure stepped into her path. She almost ran into it—a man. Her heart wrenched. He'd come. Michael had come. She put her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun. “Michael?”

“Nee. Sorry. It's only me.” Richard Bontrager smiled down at her, a smile that held a sheepishness, as if he held himself responsible for her disappointment. He had a nice smile and his Sunday clothes fit him well. He smelled of soap instead of the dirt and sweat she recalled from their buggy ride. “I know it's been at least a month and a half since I gave you a ride a home, but surely you haven't forgotten me. I'm not all that memorable, but we did go to school together back in Bliss Creek.”

Her throat parched, Phoebe managed a nod. “I remember all of it. I'm a little distracted is all.”

“Gut.”
He ducked his head. “I'd hate to think I'm that forgettable.”

“I don't…I'm just…”

“Overwhelmed? I remember feeling overwhelmed after my baptism.” He glanced around. “I could take you for a ride, give you time to collect yourself.”

The gentleness of his tone and the kindness in his face nearly undid her. Here was a man she'd been acquainted with for several years but never really gotten to know. He hadn't been part of their small circle. Why, she couldn't really say. His family's farm in Bliss Creek had been farther down the road, too far to walk. Her gaze had been for Michael only. Always. Even when he didn't seem to know she was alive.

Richard liked her when so few did. Fear ballooned in her stomach and then twisted itself into a knot in her throat.
Be good. Be good.
“Nee. I can't do that.”

“With all the hullabaloo going on here with three other people being baptized and the families and all, no one will miss you.” He nodded toward the field beyond the barn. “My buggy is close by. We'll keep it short. You probably couldn't eat beforehand. You'll be starving once you get your nerves calmed down.”

Just one minute. Just one minute. Back in two shakes. I'll be back in two shakes.

“Nee, I can't.”

“Some other time, then.” He smiled that seemingly ever-present smile. He had such an even temperament, such an easy way about him. His bottom teeth were a little crooked, which matched the lopsidedness of the tentative smile. He wasn't as good-looking as Michael, but Phoebe suspected few girls had rejected his invitations in the past. “I have a flashlight with new batteries.”

“I can't. I'm sorry. You're a nice man.” Tears pressed against Phoebe's throat. “But I can't. Never. Never.”

She pushed past him, trying to ignore the startled, hurt look on his face.

“I'm sorry, I thought…”

He thought wrong. She would never do something so thoughtless and selfish again.

Never.

“I'm the one who's sorry.” She threw the words over her shoulder as
she scrambled up the path that led to the house. She glanced back. “It's my fault. It's nothing to do with you.”

He stood there, hands at his side, head cocked, his expression puzzled. “It's all right. I'll wait until you're ready.”

He didn't get it. She scurried faster and faster, but she could still feel his gaze on her, wondering, waiting.

She might never be ready. Not for anyone whose name wasn't Michael.

Chapter 22

N
o doubt the latest quilting frolic at Irene's would be in full swing by the time Phoebe, Mudder, and Hannah arrived. Phoebe sighed and crossed her arms. After her trip to the fabric store and Bertha's snippy comments, she'd decided to stay close to home, not accepting Irene's invitations to quilt even though she wanted to go. No sense in inviting more snippiness. Today, however, it was time to get on with things. She'd been baptized. She'd showed her commitment to the church and the community. Now she wanted a chance to talk to Irene if she could sneak a moment or two at the frolic. Nothing seemed different and she needed to know if Irene could tell her how to find her joy again.

Now Hannah refused to cooperate. Mudder insisted they all go together. Hannah thought otherwise. For someone who used to never question her parents' word, Hannah had become silently willful in a way Phoebe had never attempted.

She stood in the doorway watching as Mudder tried, kindly at first, to convince Hannah to stop sewing dresses for Sarah—the little girl had more than plenty—and come to the frolic. Hannah didn't want to come. Not that she'd said as much. She simply continued to pump the treadle on the sewing machine. Phoebe didn't move or speak, knowing Hannah didn't want her to do either. She'd made it clear in the time since Lydia's death that she had no intention of letting Phoebe get close
to her. To be fair, she didn't say much to the others either. She spoke when spoken to, did her chores, and went to school. Beyond that, no one could say what went on in her mind.

“Hannah. Stop.” Mudder slapped a hand on the wheel that turned the thread. “Save your energy for sewing at the quilting frolic. Irene is expecting us. It'll be fun.”

Her face pinched in a sour expression, Hannah stood and stomped across the room without a word.

“After you.” Mudder smiled a weak smile “She'll be better once we get there.”

By the time they made their way down the stairs and out the door, Hannah had climbed into the backseat of the buggy and had Sarah on her lap. She looked away when Phoebe climbed into the driver's side in front. Phoebe sighed and picked up the reins. It had been two weeks since the baptism and still nothing was different. Nothing felt different.

No, that wasn't true. Instead of feeling that nothing would ever happen to her again, she'd felt on edge, as if waiting. For what she didn't know. She simply waited. The uneasiness of not knowing what that
something
was filled her every waking moment as she fed the chickens, grubbed the last of the potatoes from the garden, shucked the corn, snapped the beans, baked the cookies, did the laundry, and mowed the yard. Something would happen. Something had to happen.

She focused on the road ahead. Autumn had arrived in all its cool, breezy glory. She raised her face to the sun and inhaled. Soon the smell of smoky fireplaces would waft in the air. Then flakes of snow would tickle her cheeks and wet the end of her nose. Time had a way of moving on. Soon Deborah would marry and Phoebe would take over as teacher. The thought didn't scare her as it had done a few weeks earlier. Anything would be better than this terrible waiting.

“I thought we should finish up the quilt we're working on and give it to Deborah and Abel after the wedding.” As if reading her mind, Mudder's determinedly cheerful noise cut through a silence that had mostly been filled with the clip-clop of the horse's hooves. “Wouldn't that be
nice? She'll love the Irish chain pattern. The greens and blues are very nice in this one.”

The banns would be announced at the prayer service tomorrow. The thought made Phoebe's heart hurt. She flung away the arrows of jealousy. “Deborah would definitely like that. It will look nice on the…on their…”

Chuckling, Mudder patted Phoebe's knee. “You can say it. Bed. On their bed.”

Heat burned Phoebe's neck and crept toward her checks. “She'll like it.”

“You know you'll marry too.”

Mudder framed the words as a statement, not a question. It was her first reference to Phoebe's future in a long time.

Phoebe shrugged. “It seems unlikely.”

“Have you talked to Michael?”

“Nee.” Phoebe flopped the reins, wanting the horse to pick up his pace. He nickered and bobbed his head as if in reproach. “How can I when I don't even have an address?”

“Edna says Daniel knows where he is. He received a letter from him and he's written Michael back.” Mudder's voice lost some of its confidence. “You might do the same.”

“You would want me to do that?” Surprised, Phoebe flicked a glance at her mudder. She seemed to be studying the rambling bushes and weeds growing along side the road. “You would want Michael around?”

“When I said I forgave him, I meant it.”

A strangled sound from the backseat reminded Phoebe that Hannah rode with them. She closed her eyes for a brief moment. “I don't think there's any going back to the way it was before.”