The Amish Heart of Ice Mountain (2 page)

Chapter Two

It was not the wedding any girl would have wanted. Sarah had absolutely no desire to marry Edward King, even though it had been what she'd been dreaming of for the past year.... But that had been when she'd thought he'd wanted her, when she believed in his schemes, and hadn't seen him drunk. Now she could barely bring herself to change into the blue dress her
fater
insisted upon—blue for marrying. She paused in adjusting her
kapp
and listened in surreal fascination to the rain still beating mercilessly against the cabin
. Getting married . . . while
Mamm
and Clara and Ernest and Samuel sit unsuspecting at home.... Perhaps
Fater
will relent and allow time for the rest of the family to come.... But no, he believed that a sin should be made right as soon as possible . . . no matter anyone's feelings.
Ach
, how I miss
Grossmuder
May—she would have helped somehow, but there's no sense longing for someone gone from here, like a red leaf in a fast-moving stream.... But at least I have her journal....

Sarah glanced at the old heavy book on her bedside table and on impulse went quickly to open it. So far, she'd savored each early entry, reading of May's girlhood far from Ice Mountain. But now Sarah turned with furtive fingertips to the penciled page she'd only glanced at marked
MY WEDDING DAY
and began to read almost in desperation. She knew it might be wiser to seek counsel from
Gott
's Word, but she needed the touch of a woman friend now. And, as she lifted the book to the rain-washed window, time stood still, then fell away in the gentle loops and lines of
Grossmuder
's writing.

Sarah let the pages rifle closed between her fingers and put the book back on her table.
Fifteen . . . If
Grossmuder
could marry at fifteen, then surely I can at nineteen....
She squared her shoulders and pushed aside the long curtain that separated the bedroom from the kitchen, prepared to face her future with as much confidence as her shaking hands would allow.

The three men stood in silence when she reentered the room. Edward had loosely pinned his soaking shirt on, but the strong cords of his throat were still visible and his suspenders still hung down about his lean waist. He was visibly shivering and she bit back a protest at making him put on his wet clothes again, knowing that would only condemn him further in her
fater
's eyes
. I might as well do what I can to see that they get along, considering this marriage is supposed to last forever. . . .
She blinked.
Forever . . .

Edward sneezed, and it seemed to galvanize Bishop Umble into action. “It is unusual, I admit to you all, for me to both perform the marriage and stand as a witness at the same time. . . .”

Her
fater
gave a low growl of acknowledgment and the bishop stroked his gray beard. “Still,” he cleared his throat, “I suppose we must proceed . . . though I'm beginning to think that this is the only way couples seem to get married anymore on Ice Mountain—irate
faters
and all.”

Sarah knew that the bishop was referring to Edward's own sister, Mary, who had been forced to wed after being caught in a passionate embrace with an
Englischer
. Yet Mary and Jude certainly seemed now to be deeply in love and made one of the most striking couples on the mountain.

She sighed, then came back to the moment with a heart thump as she heard Bishop Umble speak the High German words of the wedding ceremony. She was aware of Edward's tall presence beside her and the faint smell of moonshine mixed with his own scent of pine and woods and sultry sun. She longed to close her eyes against memories of stolen kisses and fervent embraces and tried to remember that he wanted her like this no more than she wanted him.

Somehow, then, the ceremony was over. She saw her
fater
visibly relax, a bit of the angry redness leaving his face, and the bishop put his hands behind his back. Sarah knew Bishop Umble's posture; it was a stance of exhortation or encouragement, as he often stood during church service.
Here comes the lecture . . . I'm so tired all of a sudden. I don't think I can stand it....
But she assumed a properly interested expression, ignoring for the moment the fact that Edward had begun to cough. She simply wanted everyone to be gone.

But Bishop Umble pursed his lips and spoke. “I have one suggestion for your marriage. It's an abbreviated statement from Sir Winston Churchill. . . .”

Ach, buwe.
Sarah flicked back one of her
kapp
strings and sensed Edward shift his weight on the
auld
floorboards.

“‘Never give up,'” the bishop pronounced with singular solemnity, then clapped his hat back on his head. “
Kumme
, Mahlon, we'll leave this husband and wife in peace.”

Sarah watched her
fater
bluster, then grab Edward by his loose shirt collar. “If you ever hurt her, I'll . . .”

“Mahlon!” Bishop Umble snapped. “Remember yourself.”

Her
fater
grunted and released Edward, and Sarah let out the breath she realized she'd been holding. Then both older men went out into the rain and the door closed with a definitive thump, her
fater
not even bidding her farewell.

She closed her eyes on tears at the abrupt dismissal, not that she'd come to expect anything more from her
daed
—he was far from affectionate and remote as the moon at times. She swallowed, longing for comfort of some kind, and looked askance at her new husband.

 

 

Mahlon Mast fisted his hands deep into his pockets as he parted from the bishop and began on the path toward home. Anne would be waiting supper and wondering what kept him. He scowled as he kicked a stray rock out of his way and again felt a deep urge to lay hands on Edward King. It seemed unfathomable to him that Sarah now belonged to the insufferable
buwe
, and that it had been at his own insistence.
But what else was I to do . . .

“Hi, there.”

Mahlon came to a dead stop, so involved in his own thoughts that he'd nearly run full tilt into Jude Lyons.

“
Ach
. . . hiya.”

Mahlon had a cautious friendship with the younger man who'd only recently joined the Ice Mountain
Amisch
community.

“Is something wrong?” Jude asked, adjusting his spectacles.

“Wrong?
Jah
. . . and you can ask yer
bruder
-in-law what.”

Jude frowned. “You mean Edward?”

“Sure I do. He jest married my Sarah.”

“Why now? Although I know they've been courting.”

Mahlon snorted. “Am I the last on this mountain to know such things for certain?”

“Oh, I bet I'll be the last one to fathom it when Rose starts to court.” Jude spoke of his new baby daughter with obvious pride.

“I've got to get on,” Mahlon said, knowing he was being abrupt.

“Sure. I'll see you soon, and don't worry about Edward—he'll turn out all right. Remember, you didn't like me so much when we first met. Maybe Edward deserves a chance, too.”

Mahlon shrugged. “I don't think I got it in me to give it to him.”

“You might be surprised.” Jude smiled.

“I don't think so.”

 

 

“I need a drink,” Edward said, reaching a hand behind his neck as if to ease an ache.

“
Nee,
you don't,” Sarah cried and he half smiled.

“I'd wager you need one yourself, Sarah, after that fiasco.” He coughed and started to ease back out of his shirt. “When everybody's settled down, we'll get an annulment or something.”

“What?” Her voice seemed shrill and hurt his head.

“Sarah, sweet . . . please . . . why not let me lie down for a few hours . . . shake off this cold.” He brushed past her, patting her shoulder absently, and made for the bed in the other room.

“Are you
narrisch?
” she asked, following him.

“Crazy?” He tugged off a boot. “
Nee
, but I am probably still a little drunk.”

“And married,” she pointed out.

“And married,” he agreed with a yawn, slipping off his pants.

He felt her frustration, but it seemed muted somehow, cocooned away from him as he lifted the quilts and slid into the warm bed with an audible sigh. “You'll see, Sarah,” he slurred. “Everything will be all right.”

 

 

He thought he was dreaming. The wind had picked up until it seemed to shake the very foundation of the old cabin, and there was an ominous glow to the light outside the bedroom window. The sound of limbs breaking like the crack of gunfire penetrated the storm and he sighed, rolling to his back and stretching out his right arm to a more comfortable position. When the ancient oak toppled and fell through the roof of the cabin, he came awake long enough to feel a brutal crushing weight, a red haze of pain, and then, mercifully, darkness.

Chapter Three

“Mrs. King?”

Sarah looked up from her folded hands as the surgeon spoke her new name from the doorway of the crowded waiting room. She got to her feet in a daze, aware of friends and family in vinyl chairs behind her, but her eyes focused oddly on the single drop of blood on the doctor's scrubs.

Her steps were halting and the older doctor reached out a hand to her, guiding her gently by the elbow into the quiet hall of the large hospital where Edward had been flown.

“Mrs. King, your husband is stable. We were able to stop the bleeding, but he did lose his right eye and, despite our best efforts, will have some pretty severe scarring on the right side of his face.”

Sarah nodded, steepled her hands together, then pressed her fingers to her lips. “But he will live?” she asked.

“Yes,” the doctor answered gently. “Would you like to see him? He's fairly well sedated, but he might be able to hear you if you talk to him.”

Sarah dropped her hands to her sides. “Yes . . . please.”

She followed the doctor through a myriad of doors, moving deeper into the recesses of the building, until the rooms became smaller, quieter, and a feeling of sober vigil hung in the air.

“In here.” The doctor gestured, and she went inside the open door. A nurse was pressing buttons on a computer but paused to smile kindly in her direction, then slipped away, leaving Sarah to approach the bed alone.

Edward's head was swathed in bandages, and the right side of his face as well. Tubes and machines surrounded his bed like alien sentinels and she longed to care for him in the simplicity of home. She forgot, for the moment, his slurred promise of an annulment, and all of her that thanked
Gott
for the gift of healing she carried wanted to help him now.

She glanced into the hallway, then got as close to his left side as possible, bending to stroke the back of his strong hand, which looked strangely out of place against the crisp white sheet. She whispered in his ear.

“Edward, it's Sarah.”
Your wife . . .
“You're in a big hospital—they had to helicopter you from Coudersport. But you're going to be all right . . .”
But, dear
Gott
, is he? Losing his eye and having his handsome face scarred will surely affect him emotionally....

He stirred and moaned faintly and she spoke a bit louder.

“I'm going to stay with you, Edward. Don't be afraid.” She looked up when the nurse reentered.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, I'll have to ask you to go back to the waiting room. He needs to sleep. The doctor said you can come back in a few hours and stay longer.”

Sarah nodded, then impulsively bent and kissed Edward's cheek, wondering if he'd accept such an action if he was fully awake. And then she followed the nurse out of the room.

 

 

It was dark except for the muted glow and beep of strange machines when Edward woke to feel with tentative fingers at the mass of bandages on his face and head. He tried to remember how he'd come to the hospital room, but all he could seem to recall was standing in front of Bishop Umble and Mahlon Mast and marrying Sarah.
Marrying Sarah . . . but she'd made it clear that she didn't want to have anything to do with him. . . .

“Edward?”

He turned his head in the direction of Sarah's gentle voice as a soft overhead light came on, and he thought he must be in a dream.

“Edward, you're in the hospital. A tree fell on
Grossmuder
May's cabin and you were badly hurt.”

“What's wrong with my head?” His voice sounded strange to his own ears and his throat hurt.

There was an infinitesimal pause, and then she moved into his line of vision. Her gray eyes were wide, searching, but he saw a calmness there that made him relax for a moment. “Edward, the doctors couldn't save your right eye.”

He tried to process her words and reached his fingers once more to the wad of bandages over the side of his face. “What?”

He saw the concern in her stare but no pity, and he thought that perhaps he had heard wrong.

“Your right eye is gone,” she said slowly.

He nodded, thinking of the only trip his family had ever taken away from Ice Mountain, when his mother was still alive. A trip to Cape May—to the seaside. Where he'd seen a one-eyed man begging for money along the boardwalk. The man's empty eye socket had been uncovered and had gleamed with sullen red scarring in a way that had seemed both fascinating and horrifying.

Now Edward knew a fear in his soul, that he would be monstrous, despite Sarah's level gaze. He shuddered and would have turned away had her voice not stopped him.

“You're alive, Edward King. Alive,” she said firmly. “And you can still see—it would have been so different had that tree fallen a few inches further.
Derr Herr
had His Hand on you.”

Edward couldn't stop the bitter laugh that escaped his lips. “
Jah,
right. Next you'll be telling me that
Gott
has a plan for my life in being like this. Leave me be.”

“I can't simply leave you, Edward . . . you're my husband.” Her half whisper was urgent.

He swallowed hard. “If you think I'll let you stick to this marriage out of pity, you've got it all wrong, sweet. . . . I remember now, you told me you never wanted to see me again, and your damn
fater
bullied you into . . .”

“Edward,” she hissed. “Don't swear.”

“I'll do a helluva lot more than swear if you don't get out. Now.”

He watched her stand still as a statue and he drew a deep breath. “Get out!”

A nurse came hurrying into the room as bells went off. Edward didn't care, nor did he want to think about the stricken look on Sarah's face. He wanted to be left alone.

A long time after he sensed that Sarah was gone, he allowed bitter, silent tears to slip from his now single eye and cursed God for letting him live.

 

 

“I have a role in the community,” Sarah whispered to her new sister-in-law, Mary Lyons. They sat in the hospital's cafeteria, quietly talking in the small hours of the morning.

“And Edward doesn't,” Mary said. “Though my
bruder
is
gut
at growing things.”

Sarah looked at her, surprised. “Is he? We never—I guess we never got around to talk about that because we were too busy—well, never mind.”

Mary smiled faintly and squeezed her hand. “I understand. Jude and I had a lot of—um, never mind—time together.”

“
Jah
, but Jude loves you, and you have a wonderful baby and your life is
gut
.”

“And you don't think Edward loves you? Or maybe you don't love him?”

Sarah shook her head. “I love him; I don't like him much of late, though. I actually told him I didn't want to see him anymore, and then he showed up at the cabin . . . and then my
fater
and the bishop came....
Ach
, Mary, I know he's your
bruder
, but I don't know who I'm married to.”

“
Gott
will work it out, Sarah. You will see.”

“I know
Derr Herr
's power, but I also know your
bruder
's strong will. He . . . well, his response to all of this will either destroy him or build him as a man.”

“Then we must pray for the building,” Mary said simply.

Sarah nodded, wondering how much Edward's younger sister knew about his drinking. Then she smiled and crushed the plastic sandwich wrapper she held. “I'd better go back up now. Perhaps he'll feel more like seeing—I mean, being with me. . . .”

Mary smiled. “
Jah
. Of course he will.”

 

 

“I don't want to talk to you,” Edward said sullenly, avoiding his big
bruder
's gaze. “And why in the hell are you here anyway? You threw me out.”

“Watch your tongue,” Joseph answered in a mild tone. “You deserved to be thrown out and, obviously, it was
Derr Herr
's will that you marry Sarah and . . .”

Edward sneered. “What's the matter, Joseph? Can't bring that handsome mouth of yours to say that it was
Gott
's will that I'm half blind? You're worthless . . .”

He watched his
bruder
bend his dark head and regretted his words for a brief moment, but then Joseph looked him straight in the eye.

“And you're angry, like you have been for quite some time. At least all of these machines keep you from drinking. That's one thing to be thankful for in this.”

“Yeah,” Edward choked. “It's a great way to dry out . . . not that I wouldn't like to crawl out of my skin.”

“Tell the doctor,” Joseph urged. “Maybe he can give you something to help you relax.”

Edward closed his eye. “Shut up, Joe.”

“I see his temper hasn't improved.”

Sarah's soft voice penetrated Edward's senses, making him even more furious, but he drew a deep breath, determined not to let her see how much she affected him—more than he'd ever remembered when he'd been away.

He opened his eye. “What do you want, my sweet frau?
Kumme
to gawk at the deformed penitent?”

“I came to check on you because I care, Edward. The doctor is coming in to do his rounds; I saw him in the hall. He says they'll take the bandages off in a few days and then you can go home.”

“And where exactly is home?” Edward asked wearily, unable to keep the edge from his voice.

Joseph sighed aloud, but Sarah spoke with audible confidence. “Home with me, your wife, Edward.”

“Uh, maybe I'd better go out,” Joseph interjected.

“Yeah, go and take her with you.”

“Sarah can
kumme
and go as she pleases,” Joseph said in a level warning at his rudeness; then Edward heard him stalk away, his work boots heavy on the tile flooring.

When she said nothing after a few long minutes, he turned his head and glared at her, not expecting to see the dark circles beneath her gray eyes or the faint wisps of brown hair that escaped her
kapp
.
She's tired, and I'm acting like an idiot . . . but there is no way I'm going to let her do her
Amisch
duty and stay married to a freak. . . .

“Why don't you go get some rest, Sarah?” he said finally, opting for level politeness instead of anger.
Maybe she'll listen to pure reason . . .

“I'm fine. I'm used to being up at all hours with
Grossmuder
—I mean, I was.” She broke off abruptly, and it occurred to him how close she must have grown to the old healer before her death.

“Well, you miss her—that's normal.”
Unlike me—I am far from normal.

“You shouldn't feel sorry for yourself,” she chided, and he stared at her until his eye ached, wondering at her odd perception.
I guess she's not so normal either.
The thought provoked him and he felt his anger rise once more.

“I can feel what I want,” he snapped. “And I don't feel like having you as a wife. I'm not going to accept your sense of duty—which I know is stronger than a goat's grip. So, seriously, give this up.”

She silently shook her head back and forth and he slapped the mattress.
I could hurt her, tell her that she means nothing . . .
but the idea brought on a distant feeling of disquiet that soured his stomach.... And, he knew her—she'd probably simply absorb the hurt of his words and go on with the marriage.

“All right, sweet,” he drawled, trying to subdue his frustration. “If you are so intent on a marriage you told me you didn't want, then a wedding in name only is exactly what you'll get. I will not touch you, not even a fingertip—so that when you finally tire of living with me, you'll be able to seek an honest annulment—if the bishop will somehow allow it.”

She stared at him. “You mean—we won't, you won't . . .”

“Right. But no one will ever know. To the godforsaken world of Ice Mountain, we'll settle down to wedded bliss, but your life will be far from it.”

“I'm used to that . . . you know my
fater
,” she said quietly, and he suddenly wished he could find his way back to the time and place before he left for the rigs; it had been so easy and graceful with her then.
And I was so much less of a mess . . .

“All right, Sarah, you've got what you wanted or more than you bargained for—you can sit by my bedside and dab at your eyes, though we both know where your heart truly lies.”

He wanted to look away from her faint smile of denial, the gentle revelation of her pearly teeth—it was enough to make him feel aroused, which made him feel alive, and he wasn't quite ready to live yet.

“I'm tired,” he said honestly, and he watched as she turned to go—his would-be savior, his new wife—whom he swore he'd never touch.... It was more than enough for one bedside visit.