Along Wooded Paths Page 12

  Marianna looked to the cradle and saw that Joy wasn’t there. Marianna had heard her baby sister crying in the night and barely remembered her mother coming in to get her to nurse. Mem probably kept Joy in bed with her to keep her warm.

  She waited for a while, expecting to hear the stove lids rattle downstairs and Mem humming as she started breakfast. As Marianna lay there, she thought about the day ahead. She looked forward to sitting by the fire, hearing news from Aaron about folks back home, and maybe even playing with quilt blocks. She still needed to design a quilt and get to sewing it for Annie. Instead of getting a ride to Eureka, she’d purchased quilt squares from the craft room at work and now had to try to figure something out with those. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t have enjoyed spending the day with Ben. She would, and that was the problem. It also would have been a problem because everyone—Dat, Mem, Aaron—would have protested her doing such a thing. Perhaps they thought if she just stayed away from Ben, it will solve everything. That it would snuff out all the emotions in her heart.

  Marianna listened to Ellie’s soft breathing. Last night things warmed up again after dinner. Uncle Ike and Annie were restored to friendly terms before the night was over. The most humorous part came when Uncle Ike gave Annie a ride home. Her little car had trouble getting out of the driveway. The horse did better by far, especially with the sleigh tracks Uncle Ike had attached to his buggy. That’s how the Amish did things in the winter around here, she’d learned. It reminded her of the old storybooks she’d read as a child.

  It was romantic to see her uncle remind Annie to bundle up before heading out, and Annie didn’t seem put out by all the attention. Not in the least.

  Marianna’s stomach growled, and not willing to wait any longer, she dressed and tiptoed downstairs, hoping to start breakfast before everyone woke. But as she stepped off the last stair, she turned and noticed Aaron already dressed and standing by the fire, preparing to get it going. By his side sat Trapper. Ever since Aaron arrived, the dog had decided Aaron needed his companionship at night.

  Aaron put wood in the stove and then crumbled a few sheets of newsprint, setting it inside. He looked tired. And something else . . . worried, maybe?

  “Are you okay?” She hurried to the small jar on the side table for a match. “The pain didn’t keep you up all night, did it?”

  “Nah.” Aaron rubbed his leg above the cast. “Pain is pain. Just woke up early, that’s all.”

  “I hope the bed’s comfortable.” She approached and bent down to pet Trapper. She used to be his favorite.

  “Ja, ja.” Aaron looked up at her. “I wasn’t complaining. In fact, I’m still sorry I took your room. This isn’t how I planned things.”

  Marianna glanced up at him, meeting his blue eyes, seeing his embarrassment. She sort of liked this Aaron. She’d always looked up to the Aaron who took charge, took matters into his own hands, provided, planned. But now, with Aaron not able to do much more than light a fire once in a while, Marianna saw again the tender boy she remembered from childhood. And his finger-combed hair added to the allure.

  She wanted to know this Aaron better. Wanted to understand what had changed since she’d last seen him on the platform of the train station, standing strong and brave.

  If only she could sit next to him and ask about what things had been like after she’d left. Not only things in their community. More than that. Things with his heart. His cabin. Naomi. How intimate had they been? Had it been more than friendship?

  Instead, she moved toward the kitchen, and then paused, calling back over her shoulder. “Do you like your eggs scrambled or fried? I could do either.”

  When he didn’t answer, she turned.

  He got the stove going and then closed the door. Hopping on one foot, he moved to the sofa, sinking into it with a weariness she didn’t understand.

  Then she noticed a sketchbook on the floor. And on top of it what looked to be a letter. Her eyes zeroed in on it.

  “Did someone from home write?”

  Aaron studied her for a moment, then reached down and slipped the envelope into his book. “Oh, no. I wrote something. Nothing really.”

  A letter? To Naomi? Her heart sank. “If you’d like, I can take it with me to work tomorrow and mail it out.”

  Aaron nodded and then cleared his throat. “Fried.”

  She tilted her head. “Excuse me?”

  “I like my eggs fried, if you don’t mind.”

  “No, of course not. That’s how I like mine too.”

  She turned back again and hurried to the kitchen. What was the letter about? Of course he’d written Naomi. It only made sense. That was probably why he didn’t want her to mail it—to see it. And if it was a letter to Levi’s old girlfriend . . . what did it say?

  Aaron squirmed. From the look on his face, he had something important to talk to her about. She just wished he would come out with it already. If he kept this up he’d get her kapp strings all in a bunch as her mind spun with thoughts and worries.

  She didn’t understand men. Aaron Zook might be talented at drawing, but he didn’t hide his feelings well. Why didn’t she realize that sooner? Maybe because back at home he’d been surrounded by what he knew best, doing what he did best.

  And here . . . he seemed all out of sorts. She didn’t blame him. It took time to get used to a new place, new ways. Plus, there was the injury.

  He had gotten used to having her around more. He hadn’t seemed to mind one bit—until today. Was he nervous because he wished he was with someone else?

  Marianna bit her lip. If he didn’t come out with it soon, she was going to scream.

  Marianna sat on the floor in front of the fire, her legs crossed and her skirt tucked around her. She started laying out the small snippets of fabric she’d bought at the store. She looked down at her gray dress with the colored fabric patterns spread over it. The reds, oranges, and yellows made her smile.

  She placed a few more squares on her lap. What it would feel like to wear colors such as these? With a swoop of her hand she brushed them away, as if they were covered with ants.

  How could she let her mind wander so?

  “You’re working on a quilt?” Aaron leaned close, looking down.

  “Well, I’m just playing with these now . . . I’d like to start one soon though.”

  “If you’d like some help I can sketch something for you.”

  “Really?” Marianna sat up straighter.

  “My mem used to have me design quilts for her all the time.”

  Marianna tightened her lips, holding back the giggle that threatened to break through. “Ja? I did not know that. I’ve always admired your mem’s quilts.” Everyone admired Mrs. Zook’s quilts for their color and style, and not once had she confessed that her oldest son was the designer of the patterns.

  Marianna looked up at Aaron. Thankfully after breakfast his attitude had changed. He smiled now. Whatever had been the problem did not seem to matter any longer. Maybe he’d just been tired or in pain. At least, she hoped that was the cause.

  “So, what would you like your quilt set to look like?” He motioned for her to bring the swatches of fabric closer.

  “Well, I’d like to make it for a queen bed. I’d like to do a colorful pattern too, but not just a plain design.”

  “Do you have graph paper? And a pencil?”

  Mem must have heard them talking. “I have some.” A few minutes later she returned with both.

  Aaron leaned down and picked up some quilt squares, running them through his fingers. “I have an idea. You can do a colorful, yet simple boxed pattern in the border of the quilt, then we can have a wide border . . . and you could trace the hands of the members of your family and stitch around those.” He glanced over to the children at the table with a smile.

  The kids were still there, supposedly eating their breakfast. Yet Josiah complained he dropped his eggs and Trapper gobbled them up. David and Charlie talked about the snow barn they wanted to bu
ild, and Ellie cried because she had something in her eye. No wonder Aaron’s first idea had to do with the children.

  Marianna watched Aaron sketch his idea. Tears filled her eyes as she imagined Dat, Mem, her young siblings, even baby Joy. That would be so sweet, but—

  “Oh, that won’t work. What about Levi?” Marianna’s heart ached to think that their family quilt wouldn’t include her older brother. “Also, there are my sisters, Marilyn and Joanna . . .” She shook her head. “Besides I was going to make this quilt to sell. I need the money.”

  Aaron nodded but didn’t respond. His lowered eyebrows and slightly downturned lip reflected his disappointment.

  “But some day I’d love to make a quilt like that. Some day when I have a family of my own . . .”

  “Or it would make a perfect wedding quilt.” He erased the smaller handprints in the border, replacing them with just two different sizes—like the hands of a husband and wife.

  Marianna looked up into his eyes and smiled. “I love that idea, but I need to make a quilt for Annie first.”

  “Ja. I understand.” Aaron nodded and then turned to a new page. “Can you hand me the rest of those swatches?” Was it just her imagination or had his cheeks brightened to a soft rosy color?

  Marianna nodded as he handled them, studying their texture and their color. He laid some out, using his cast as a display board. A few times Marianna was surprised by the colors he put next to each other, but as he continued to lay out the pieces an image began to form. As she sat there, it wasn’t just blues and browns and yellows and whites. She could almost see the landscape out the window.

  “I see it!” She scooted over, pointing to the quilt squares. “You’re creating borders . . . landscape borders. Blue for the sky. White for a thin layer of clouds. A wide strip of dark green for the mountains, with bits of yellow mixed in for the larch trees. Then white for the snow at the bottom.” She turned to him and his eyes were bright.

  “You do see it.” He smiled. Then, as if satisfied with his work, he leaned back against the pillow, folding his hands behind the back of his head.

  “If you get the fabric, I can help you cut it out.”

  “That is not necessary.” She chuckled. “Besides, it’s not really manly work.”

  “I know, but I can’t do much. And if it will help you . . .”

  She nodded. “Denke.”

  “Besides.” He held in a grin, but she could see hints of it by the way his lips curled up slightly on the corners. “When you finish this, you can get started on the next one.”

  “Next one?”

  He turned back the graph paper to the quick sketch of the wedding quilt.

  Aaron set down the paper and rubbed his leg just above his cast. Marianna studied his face and noticed hope in his eyes. If he was in pain, one couldn’t tell from his gaze.

  “Well, Aaron, I have to say that’s not a bad idea.” She smiled.

  Dear Journal,

  I don’t know what’s gotten into me. The way I talk, you’d think I’ve already decided that I’m going to be marrying Aaron Zook in the spring. The problem is, my words are leading him to believe that too. Like today. I was innocently working on a quilt when he suggested I make a wedding quilt next. I agreed with him! Why? Do I want to break his heart more than necessary?

  Then again, it’s not that I’ve decided to refuse Aaron’s advances either. I have to admit I enjoy being with him. I’ve known him for many years and I’ve seen him as hardworking, kind, stubborn at times, but strong. There are other parts of him I’m discovering too. When no one is looking, the gentle, artistic part of Aaron comes out. He is also good with children, and he’s thankful for a good meal. He’s dedicated to our Amish ways and takes interest in the feelings of others.

  Look at me. There I go again. You’d think I was interviewing the poor man for consideration of my future husband!

  I’m still not sure if I’ll be going back in the spring. I feel as scattered as all of those fabric pieces laid out on the floor. If only I could piece my life together and make sense of it too!

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ben awoke at 10 a.m. and realized he missed church. It turned out that Roy couldn’t get the song out of his mind and they did a pre-recording last night—just so Roy could get a jump on production, since Ben planned on going back to West Kootenai for a few days.

  Carrie had watched movies in the media room, waiting for them to finish. When they finally emerged from the recording studio, she was curled up in a ball on the leather sofa, fast asleep. In the old days Ben would have picked her up and carried her to her bed. Then he most likely would have stayed. This time he went to her room, found a blanket, brought it down, and laid it over her. She hadn’t budged.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t treasure you as I should have,” he whispered to her sleeping form. “I’m sorry I took from you what belonged to your future husband.”

  His heart ached. Though he wasn’t the only one Carrie had been with, he took what did not belong to him. After giving his life to Christ, changing his physical relationships had been the hardest part. Stopping drinking hadn’t been a problem. The parties he didn’t even miss. But there were many nights he’d lain at home, alone in his cabin, and wished he had someone there, sleeping next to him. He missed feeling desired. Missed the intimacy.

  Ben brushed his hair back from his forehead. Get those thoughts out of your mind, Stone. He was different now. God had made him different.

  He rose from the bed and sighed. If only, when God washed away his sins He’d washed away his memories too. Why couldn’t things work that way?

  He found his way to the adjoining bathroom and noticed someone had slipped in through the hallway door and left him a set of Roy’s clothes. They were a size too big, and not really his style, but he was thankful for them.

  Downstairs he found Carrie sipping on coffee, staring out at the open field behind the house. The ocean of white snow appeared to have waves rising and falling near the fence posts.

  Ben poured himself a cup of coffee. He leaned against the counter. What it would be like to live in such a place? This open kitchen with tall windows made the little window in his cabin’s kitchen seem like a porter’s hole on a ship.

  “Sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk last night. Your dad was pretty excited about one of my songs. He was on me like a wet tick in a watermelon patch. I couldn’t shake him off.”

  Carrie laughed. “He gets that way sometimes, but it means the song has promise, and after listening I have to agree it’s good.”

  “You were listening?” Heat rose to his face. He lifted his mug and took a sip from his coffee, hoping to hide his worry from Carrie.

  “Yes, I confess. I snuck in the back so you wouldn’t see. My dad gave me the angry eye, but he didn’t kick me out. He knows how musicians get when their music is still in progress. They don’t like folks listening in. But it was great—a beautiful song. I can almost picture the music video now. You should be proud.”

  Ben nodded and a knot tightened in his throat. It had been so long since someone called him a musician. And to have such kind words said about his song. It surprised him, actually, how much it meant to hear her say those things. In West Kootenai he’d gotten used to just being Ben, and he thought he liked it that way. He enjoyed being like everyone else.

  Yet Carrie’s appreciation and respect when she talked about his music—well, he hadn’t realized how much that mattered. He shouldn’t compare Carrie with Marianna, but her words watered a part of his soul that had nearly dried up. It made no sense why he’d fallen for a woman who wasn’t even allowed to listen to music, let alone show her appreciation for it.

  What is it about Marianna that makes me care for her so?

  Carrie eyed him, and Ben guessed what she was thinking. She was about to ask him why he ended up living in the woods. He moved to the table, sitting opposite of her, and launched into his own questions before she had a chance to ask. Not that he had anythi
ng to hide—just that he didn’t know how to explain.

  “So, what brought you back up here to Montana? I mean, last time we were together—uh, last time I heard from you, you were enjoying L.A.”

  “Enjoying it a little too much.” She sighed. “Ended up in rehab. Isn’t that just part of the lifestyles of the rich and famous? Part of the gig?”

  Ben coughed, nearly choking on the sip of coffee he’d been taking. “What . . . I never thought—”

  “You never thought I had a problem? Yeah, most people didn’t. I drank to mask my loneliness. It’s tough having everything and no one to share it with.”

  Heaviness weighed on him, as if the large ceiling beams overhead pressed down on his shoulders. He was part of the reason Carrie had been lonely. Even when they were together, he’d taken everything for himself and given little back. Of course, to the public—to her dad—he’d always acted like a good guy. He’d treated her like a lady and opened doors for her. He’d bought her gifts and always bragged about her to his friends. Yet, deep down, he did that more as a show than because it came from his heart. She must have known it too. She’d been better off without him. Who wanted to be with someone who didn’t love you with all his heart?

  “I’m so sorry.”

  At his whispered apology, Carrie shrugged, then wiped the corners of her eyes. “Thanks, it was hard, but it ended up being good. One of the directors at the clinic had worked up here at a ranch for teen girls before. Once I got cleaned up, he told me about it. I volunteer there nearly every day. In fact, that first night you showed up that’s where I was—with some of those teen girls. They earn points for good behavior and got to pick a special outing. We went to a movie and then got some pie.”

  As she smiled at him, Ben had an odd sensation that he was talking to a stranger. Oh, she looked like Carrie, but the way she talked—this wasn’t the Carrie he’d known.