Love Still Stands (19 page)

Elijah’s gaze finally moved in her direction. He looked as if he didn’t recognize
her at first. Then his face flamed crimson. “Right. I’m sorry.” He knelt and scooped
up the bags of cookies and tossed them back in the basket with such force they’d surely
be even more broken. Viola joined him, her long skirt folding around her in a graceful
display. Their heads came precariously close to bumping. They laughed.

Bethel might as well have been in another country. In fact, she wished more than anything
that she were.

“I’ll take the cookies.” Viola set her casserole on top of the box. “Elijah can get
the cooler. Lead the way, Bethel.”

As if they were best of friends. Bethel swatted away her resentment. This woman, along
with the other folks in Webster County, had come to help. She should welcome Viola
with open arms. A friendly face in a place where she’d met few.

“This way.” She sought a topic of conversation that moved away from her fall. “The
casserole smells good.”

“It’s called taco surprise. My sister made it. It has layers of tortillas and hamburger
and shredded cheese and hot sauce in it. It’s really delicious.”

“Sounds tasty. We set up some Coleman stoves. You can keep it warm on one of them.”
Bethel swung under the canopy where tables had been set up for the food preparation
and serving. She nodded at the long row of coolers under the tables. “Elijah, you
can put the cooler there with the others. I’m sure Luke is looking for you. He’s chomping
at the bit to get started.”

If the words didn’t dismiss him, her tone surely did. Elijah’s lips formed a thin
line. No dimple visible now. His gaze seemed to bore a hole in her forehead. He tipped
his hat and left the tent without another word.

Gut
. She didn’t want to talk to him anyway.

Chapter 18

L
uke laid the hammer on the planks positioned across two saw horses and shoved his
hat back on his head. So far so good. He inhaled the scent of cut wood. Clean, full
of promise, mingled with the smell of paint, sharp and fresh. If blacksmithing had
been his first choice for vocation, carpentry would’ve been a close second. Creating
with his hands. But God had had other plans for him. Growing food for his family and
other families. He was content. The school would be complete by late afternoon and
the outhouses soon after, thanks to the crew from Webster County. The crew working
on the new well had struck water ahead of schedule. God’s hand lay upon them.

“I’ll get the windows started,” Elijah called from the newly constructed porch. He
tucked his hammer into a toolbox on the floor. “Simon and Martin can help place the
glass.”

“Fine. Let Tobias’s boys help.” Luke rummaged through his toolbox looking for the
right screwdriver to install the door hinges. “But don’t leave them alone with the
glass.”

“It’s looking good.” Elijah surveyed the front of the building. “We’re right on schedule.”

“Jah, we should be able to get the desks from Tobias’s barn tomorrow and bring them
in.”

“What about the stove?”

“We’ll have to install it soon. Winter will be here before we know it.” Some of his
earlier optimism faded. Starting a new school from scratch cost money. Their funds
were dwindling. “We need to plan for a school fund-raiser.”

“Silas’s fraa says they made good progress at the sewing frolic last week. They’ll
have plenty of goods to sell. Plus we have all that equipment left in the barns and
outbuildings. And the appliances from the kitchens.” Elijah moved a pane of glass
so it leaned more steadily against the outside wall. “I met a lady in town who can
help us with a place to sell the goods.”

Luke nodded as Elijah proceeded to describe a lady named Diana Doolittle who owned
a flea market and auction house in town. A good contact. They needed friendly faces
in New Hope. They’d bought many supplies there now, but most of his conversations
with the folks had been short and polite.

“One thing at a time. Best get Tobias’s boys and get those windows installed now.”

The boys were eager to work but hadn’t yet learned the importance of slow and steady
for most tasks. Elijah would serve as a good teacher. He did slow and steady with
the best. Too bad he didn’t have his own boys to teach. Maybe he still had a chance
if he would stop dragging his feet with Bethel. None of Luke’s business, of course,
but sometimes slow and steady needed a nudge from behind. Of course he would never
say that. He’d already said more than he should.

Setting the situation aside, Luke surveyed the neat one-room building built by many
helping hands. Their first community project. As bishop, he could take no credit for
it. He smiled, thinking of the day when his youngsters would be old enough to do more
than carry nails and act as gophers on barn raisings. Three boys and two girls. All
would attend the school. A good start. Boys to teach to work the land. Girls who would
learn the importance of house and home from their mother. He looked forward to more.
Many more with God’s blessing.

As if to punctuate his thoughts, a baby’s squalling broke through the sound of hammers
pounding nails as a group of men led by Thomas shingled the roof. The cry had a familiar
sound to it. People who didn’t have children might not believe it, but Luke knew the
distinct sound of each of his children’s cries. Even the twins’. The squalling grew
in fervor until it became a high-pitched scream. Half irritated and more concerned
than he wanted to admit, Luke looked toward the canopy they’d erected between two
enormous poplars. There the women cleaned up the remains of lunch and prepared for
supper while the older girls cared for the babies and kept an eye on the children
who weren’t old enough to work yet.

He didn’t see Leah among the women. Bethel cast a look in his direction. He tried
to decipher it. He couldn’t read her any more than he could read his fraa. While their
personalities were at the opposite ends of the spectrum, as were their looks, they
both had a stubborn private streak. He had no idea what brought it on and no time
or patience for the introspection needed to figure them out. He stomped across the
yard, ignoring the looks thrown his way by his sister Emma and several women from
Webster County who stood chatting among themselves. “What ails the child?” He had
to raise his voice to be heard over the caterwauling. “Where’s Leah?”

Bethel held Jebediah against her chest and rubbed his back in a steady circular pattern.
His chubby legs kicked and his arms flailed against her, but she didn’t flinch. In
fact, she began to rock back and forth as if to soothe him. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what’s wrong with him, or you don’t know where my fraa is?”

“I don’t know where Leah is.”

“Poor baby’s teething.” A woman he didn’t know laid a stack of napkins on the table
and strolled over to Bethel. “Can I take him for a bit? Maybe an unfamiliar face will
take his mind off his poor gums.”

Bethel drew back. Something in her expression caught at Luke. She didn’t like this
woman, whom she surely had just met. That wasn’t like Bethel, a sweet-natured woman
who seemed to like everyone she met. Curious, he introduced himself.

“I’m Viola Byler.” The woman gave him a smile that lit up her face. She had mighty
nice eyes. Sort of blue like cornflowers, the color brought out by her dress. “I don’t
have any children of my own just yet, but I teach up at one of the schools in Webster
County.”

Bethel’s expression darkened. Her arms tightened around the baby, who continued to
wail.

“You have your hands full slicing the roast for sandwiches, Viola. I’ll take my little
nephew. He knows me.” Emma, her face full of calm efficiency, didn’t give Viola or
Bethel a chance to argue. His sister had grown confident and self-assured in her role
as wife and mother. She slipped the crying baby into her arms. “I’ll put some ointment
on his gums and give him a nice cold teething ring. I put one in the ice chest. You
two can look for Leah. I think she was feeling poorly.”

Her face a myriad of emotions that Luke couldn’t begin to read, Bethel grabbed her
crutches and swung from the tent. Viola shrugged and returned to the table. Luke followed
his sister-in-law.

“Why would we need to look for Leah? Hasn’t she been helping?” He thought back to
lunch. Leah had been there serving sandwiches. She looked tired, but he didn’t find
that surprising. She’d been up most of the night with a teething baby. “What’s going
on?”

Bethel didn’t look up. She doggedly worked her crutches across the uneven ground,
her gaze glued to the ruts, rocky soil, and weeds.

“Bethel, I asked you a question.” He had been careful not to use the position of bishop
to order his own family members into compliance. They recognized his role as head
of the household; nothing more was required. “Answer me.”

“Leah’s tired. She doesn’t feel well. Jebediah didn’t let her sleep much.”

“He’s teething.” Of course she was up. Babies kept their mudders up during the night.
Bethel, although not a mother, knew this. “She’s done this many times.”

“I’m surprised you noticed.” Her tart tone stung. “You might want to pay more attention
to that.”

“You don’t have babies, but you’ll learn that it comes with the territory.” He didn’t
need his sister-in-law telling him how to lead his family. He knew his responsibilities
well, better than she who had no husband or children. He almost stopped moving, so
struck was he by the meanness of his own spirit.
Gott forgive me
. He drew a breath and softened his tone. “Leah doesn’t mind. She knows that. She’s
a good mudder.”

Bethel plowed to a stop. “How could you be so…she’s expecting again!”

“Expecting?”

“Expecting.”

Her breathing ragged, Bethel planted herself in his path. “Your fraa is expecting
another baby.” Bright red spots spread on both her cheeks. Red blotches mottled her
neck. “Haven’t you noticed?”

Luke could never have imagined having this conversation with his sister-in-law or
any woman not his wife. Why hadn’t Leah told him? They were to have another child.
How could she not share that blessing? So little time they’d spent together, what
with his travels and the preparations for the move, the setting-up of the new household.
It hardly seemed possible. God had truly blessed them.

“Stop looking like that. She’s not seeing the blessing in it at the moment. Later
she will, but not now.” Bethel’s sharp tone brought him back to the here and now,
to the reality of her words. “She’s somewhere out there throwing up. She’s been throwing
up all day. She’s been throwing up for days. She doesn’t get any sleep, she can’t
eat, and she has five children who need her attention.”

“Ach.”

“
Ach?
All you can say is
ach?”

“She didn’t tell me.”

“And you didn’t notice.” The red blotches spread. She bowed her head, her breathing
audible, quick and short as if she’d been running. “I may never have been married
or with child, but I recognize the symptoms. I know what’s wrong with Jebediah, and
I know what’s wrong with Leah because I pay attention.”

Luke swallowed a retort. Bethel only spoke the truth. He didn’t know why his fraa
hadn’t confided in him. It shamed him to the bone that she hadn’t. He needed to talk
to her. Not Bethel. This wasn’t a conversation he would have with her. “I’ll speak
with Leah.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“You have no place to criticize me. This is between my fraa and me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She stared at him, her eyes red. Her lips quivered. “I
find it…mean that you would throw my lack of children in my face.”

And with that she swung past him on her crutches, her face averted.

“About that, you are right,” he called after her, shame coursing through him. As a
bishop, he’d failed her. As a member of her family, he’d done worse. He’d hurt her.
“I’m sorry.”

She stopped, but she didn’t turn around. “Find Leah. You need to talk to her.”

He’d rather dig seventy outhouses, but he wasn’t a coward. “Which direction?”

“Toward the creek.”

A few minutes later he trudged through pine and birch trees to the edge of a creek
that meandered through their property. A wet autumn had filled it to a rolling stream
that gurgled as it rushed past. The sound of the water alone was enough to make him
feel cooler, even calmer. The shade of the trees and the rustle of the leaves on laden
boughs made him want to stretch out on the grass and take a nap. How much more must
Leah feel the need? The question struck him across the face. So wrapped up in his
new duties and his new farm, he hadn’t bothered to take notice of his fraa’s condition.
Nor had she told him. That wasn’t like Leah. She told him everything, often more than
he wanted to hear, often in a shrill voice that irritated his ears and caused him
to tune her out.

You’re not a good husband
. The words cut like a finely honed butcher knife.
Not a good husband
.

“What are you doing here?’

Leah’s voice, not shrill now, but soft and weary, floated toward him from the other
side of the creek. She sat on a flat rock, her knees pulled up under her chin, her
skirt covering shoes he knew to be as sturdy and reliable as she had always been.
Her arms were crossed over her knees, her head down. She didn’t raise it.