Love Still Stands (7 page)

“Bethel and I…you know how it is between us. We’re not close.”

“Bethel is here to help you. She wants to help you.”

“She looks at me and sees a person who has what she wants and can’t have.”

“I don’t believe that. She was content as a teacher.”

“Everyone was surprised and shocked when I married and she didn’t.” Leah’s red, roughened
fingers stroked the tiny stitches around blue and green blocks on the quilt underneath
them. “Especially my parents. They were so sure she was the marriageable one. She’s
so much more…pleasant to be around.”

“It didn’t surprise me.” Luke hated these conversations, but somehow they had to find
a common ground before the distance between them became a chasm neither could cross.
“I saw you at that first singing, and I knew.”

“Stop it.” She sniffed hard, looked around as if searching for something, and then
resorted to patting her face dry with her apron. “You don’t have to do this. You haven’t
the time to sit here trying to make me feel better. I’ll make do with Bethel. Don’t
say anything to Emma. The twins are happy with her. They weren’t happy living with
me.”

“Bethel will go to physical therapy. She’s going to the doctor tomorrow.”

“How’s she getting there? You have much to do here. So do I.”

“Elijah.”

“Fine.”

“She’ll get better, and she’ll be able to help you.” He scooted closer and reached
for her hand. The words stuck in his throat. He cleared it. “You also have me.”

Pulling her hand from his, she snorted, a most unwomanly sound. “You’re the bishop
now. You’ll officiate at weddings, communions, and funerals. You’ll see to disciplinary
matters and questions of the Ordnung. The school and the telephone and everything
in between. You’ll have no time for me or the children.”

“Our families always come first.”

“In word, if not deed.”

“Have I not been a good husband to you?”

The long pause that followed made Luke’s heart turn over. It pumped faster, then slower,
banging in his chest so hard Leah surely heard it. “Leah?”

“You try.”

“What did you expect when we married?”

“You were a blacksmith. We had a home. We started a family. We were happy.”

“Then my parents died.” To think of that awful day no longer left him breathless with
the pain of the memories. “And everything changed.”

“Jah, they died.”

“Something I couldn’t control.” Why couldn’t she see that? He didn’t control God’s
plan. No one did. Why did she blame him? “It’s not my fault.”

“Nee. You couldn’t and it’s not.”

“Yet you blame me.”

“Nee.”

“Then what?”

“I know I’m not an easy person to love.” She plucked at her apron, her gaze averted.
“Or even to like, but I expected you, of all people, to always…”

“To always what?”

She stood and went to Jebediah’s playpen. She bent over and brushed the baby’s hair
from his face.

“To always what?”

“I never expected you to look at me like other people do.” Her enormous brown eyes
were filled with hurt and accusation. “Like I’m a horrible, difficult person no one
would want to have as a friend, let alone a wife.”

“What?”

“You look at me with disdain. You look at me through the eyes of your sisters, like
all the others.”

“I never—”

“I don’t expect you to say flowery words. I don’t expect you to show your feelings.
Nee, I don’t necessarily want you to do either.” She stalked back to the sewing machine
and picked up the material. She looked back at him, the emotion gone again. “But I
never expected you to be ashamed to have me for your fraa.”

Chapter 8

E
lijah shifted on the wagon seat, careful not to get too close to Bethel. A cool autumn
breeze lifted the ribbons of her kapp, then allowed them to settle. She looked crisp
and clean and ready to meet her new neighbors. If she was nervous it didn’t show.
He forced his gaze back to the steady
bob, bob
of Daisy’s head in time with the clippity-clop of her hooves. The familiar sound
soothed Elijah. He sneaked another furtive gaze at his companion. Bethel seemed to
be studying the countryside as if she’d never seen a tree or a bush before. His attempts
at conversation had so far been met with polite one-word responses.
Beautiful day, isn’t it? Jah. The air is cool now, but by afternoon, it’ll be warm,
don’t you think? Jah. Are you excited about the doctor? Jah. Nervous? Jah. It’ll be
interesting to see the shops in New Hope. Jah
.

Fine. Two could walk that road. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand and
ignore how pretty she looked in her dark blue dress and how she smelled of fresh soap
and how wisps of her wheat-colored hair curled on her neck.

The road, remember, the road
. They were almost to the end of the dirt road that led to the highway and pavement.
Which was a good thing. The dirt road needed work. The wagon, empty and ready for
the load of lumber, drywall, and other supplies on Luke’s list, swayed and jolted
hard. Bethel drew a sharp breath.

“Are you all right?” His determination to speak no more flew away like a sparrow.
“I’m sorry this is such a rough road. The ruts are so big we could lose a buggy in
them. We’ll have to grade it once we get the farms in order.”

“No need to hurry on my account.” Bethel gripped the seat railing with both hands.
She bit her lip, her face white against the indigo of her dress. “I’m fine.”

No help. No pity. Elijah understood that, but why did she have to be so prickly about
it? He didn’t pity her. He’d spent years taking care of his father after a stroke
left him unable to use his right arm or leg. Daed struggled to feed himself, struggled
to find words and make himself understood when he spoke. A strong, hardworking man
reduced to being lifted from the bed into a wheelchair. His father hadn’t wanted pity
and Elijah had never felt it. Only the love of a son for his father. In the end, his
mudder hadn’t known her own son, so deep did the dementia run. Still, he hadn’t pitied
her. Himself at times, but never his mudder. He missed her and thanked God she didn’t
remember enough to know what she was missing. The birth of her grandchildren, the
love of her husband, her memories, and the ability to make new ones.

“Don’t look so wounded.” Bethel’s words startled him from his reverie. “I don’t mean
to be mean. I just don’t…”

“Want my pity.”

“Anyone’s pity.”

“I don’t pity you.” Elijah tugged the reins and the horse halted at the stop sign.
No cars in sight. Quickly, he moved the wagon onto the shoulder of the highway and
urged Daisy to pick up speed. Still no traffic. He moved them into the right lane,
then picked up the thread of their conversation. “I wasn’t even thinking about you.”

Her startled expression made him realize how abrupt those words sounded. “I mean—”

“Then why do you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to carry me on your back over the next mountain that comes along.”

“It’s a habit, I guess.” Five long years of caregiving. Daed had gone first after
another stroke. Mudder, after wandering through the house at all hours of the night
looking for someone, had followed quickly, painlessly, in her sleep. “I’ll try to
break it.”

After that, Elijah didn’t bother to fill the silence. Memories of his childhood with
nine older brothers and sisters fit snug like a warm coat around his shoulders, giving
him comfort as they always did. Every one of them, from Silas on down, had helped
with their parents. His sisters had cooked and cleaned. His brothers worked the land.
But only he had stayed at the groossdaadi haus, taking care of their daily needs.
His opportunity to marry and start his own family passed without him acknowledging
it. Mary Troyer had been her name. She married Duane Weaver. Elijah had attended their
wedding.

Now that his parents were gone, he asked himself on long, silent nights if he’d missed
any chance of having the life his parents had. He wanted it. Gott knew how much. He
wanted a life with a fraa and children and backbreaking work in the field and coming
home to a meal on the table and shining small faces smiling up at him at the end of
the day.

Most likely the woman sitting next to him could not give him that. He knew little
of her medical problems, but she could barely walk, let alone carry a child and cook
and clean. So why was he so drawn to her? Better to bury the longing and look elsewhere.

Easier said than done.

“I know you took care of your parents for a long time.” Bethel’s tentative voice fluttered
on the morning breeze. “Do you feel like you have to take care of everyone now? Because
I don’t need someone to take care of me.”

She didn’t say the words, but still, the implication hung between them.
Especially you
.

He shook his head. The woman liked to worry things, like a puppy that won’t let go
of a stick. “How about this? I won’t look at you at all.” To reinforce the words,
he stared at the road ahead. “I’ll keep my gaze on the ground whenever you’re around.”

Silence swelled between them again. Then she laughed, a giggle that made her sound
younger. It made him want to laugh with her, but he didn’t, in case she found fault
with that too. “You don’t have to go that far. Just treat me like everyone else.”

“I’ll do my best.” He meant that—sincerely. He would treat her like everyone else.
He snapped the reins and Daisy picked up her pace. Time to find a new topic of conversation.
“I’m looking forward to learning my way around a new town. It’s like a great—”

“Adventure.” She laughed again. “I know. I’ve never been this far from home before.
Things aren’t really that different, but yet they are. Everything’s greener and brighter
for one thing. And it’s not as flat. The houses have more colors too.”

“It’s strange to think we’ll go into town and we won’t know anyone.” Elijah contemplated
that thought. “There won’t be any Plain folks. Just the ones from our new settlement.”

“Strange.”

They were both silent again. The first houses of New Hope came into view in the distance.
Elijah’s stomach did a strange flip-flop. He hadn’t expected to be nervous, like a
guest visiting a home for the first time.

The roar of an engine filled the air behind them. A horn blared, and then blared again.
Elijah looked back. A green pickup truck was bearing down on them. The driver didn’t
slow. Why didn’t he slow?

His heart hammering in his chest, Elijah jerked the reins and forced the wagon onto
the shoulder. Time slowed. The wagon didn’t move. Not fast enough. Not nearly fast
enough. The truck would hit them. It would hit them and Bethel would be hurt. The
thought made him snap the reins harder. “Go, go, go!”

The truck passed them.

The man behind the wheel yelled something at them through his open window. The words
whipped in the wind made by the speeding truck and dissipated in the dust and belching
exhaust fumes.

Daisy jerked forward, her powerful legs pumping. She whinnied and veered toward the
ditch filled with overgrown grass and weeds. “Whoa. Easy, girl, easy.” Elijah braced
his feet against the floorboard and pulled back. “Settle down, Daisy. You’re fine,
girl!”

The wagon slammed from side to side. Bethel slid against him hard, then back the other
direction. Elijah couldn’t spare a hand to steady her. “Hang on!”

Finally, he stood and pulled back on the reins as hard as he dared. “Whoa! Whoa!”

“What did he say?” Bethel drew in a ragged breath as the wagon slowed and steadied,
her arms wrapped around the railing. “He yelled something at us.”

“Either hurry up or get out of my way, something to that effect.” Elijah’s own voice
sounded hoarse and breathless in his ears. He contemplated stopping on the side of
the road, but even that might be dangerous. They’d better get into town. “Something
like that.”

“Only you cleaned it up a whole lot.” She wasn’t laughing now. “He could’ve driven
us into the ditch. He almost did.”

“But he didn’t. We’re fine.”

“Until the next truck comes along.”