Along Wooded Paths Page 17

  Maybe Carrie wouldn’t tell.

  Marianna didn’t notice she was humming until she looked up from folding a pile of Joy’s diapers and saw Mem’s, Dat’s, and Aaron’s eyes on her.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . .” She lowered her head and went back to work.

  “The store plays music.” Mem spoke to Aaron, her voice hinting of apology. “It’s not like she has a choice.”

  Marianna didn’t tell Mem that it wasn’t in the store, but in Ben’s truck that she’d heard the song. And as they rode home together, and she listened to the music, she couldn’t help but wonder what her song was like—the one Carrie claimed Ben wrote about her.

  After their visit to the library, they’d returned to the clinic where they found out the doctor had determined Jenny’s wrist wasn’t broken. It just had a bad sprain. Still, he didn’t want Jenny to use it for a week at least. Because of that, Jenny asked to stay at her mom’s house in town. Thankfully her mom had agreed.

  The ride home was peaceful—as if the interaction with Carrie at the library never happened. Even though Marianna wanted to ask Ben about his relationship with Carrie, Marianna talked about her grandparents instead. Both Dat and Mem were close to the youngest in their families, and her grandparents on both sides had died long ago. Aunt Ida was the closest relative, and Marianna considered her relationship with Aunt Ida as what one with a grandmother would be like.

  He’d also asked about demut—humility. That was such a deeply rooted value for the Amish. . . . She’d done her best to explain. Yet even as they spoke, Marianna could tell that wasn’t what he wanted to talk about. Had he wanted to talk about Carrie? Had he wanted to explain? Or what about the song? If only she’d had the nerve to prod him about that.

  “Marianna, did Dat tell you I got a letter from Levi today?”

  Charlie’s voice interrupted her thoughts and he approached with an envelope.

  “Levi? Really? Can I read it?” She took the envelope from her brother’s hands, then looked at the three faces watching her. None of them seemed happy about the letter or thrilled about the fact she’d been excited about it. Should she have handed it back and pretended she wasn’t interested? That was far from the truth. She’d been waiting to hear from Levi, excited to discover what her older brother was up to.

  Ignoring her parents and Aaron, she looked to Charlie. “Do you mind if I read it?”

  Charlie shrugged. “No, go ahead.”

  That was all the encouragement Mariana needed. She opened the envelope and pulled the letter out.

  Dear Charlie,

  Thank you so much for your note. I’m excited to hear that you’re doing better and will probably be going back to school soon. I’m sorry that you had to face such a long recovery, but I have no doubt, little brother, that when this is all over your leg will be as good as new.

  I’m glad that you got bored and decided to write me a letter, but I’m not so happy that you’re worried about me, and worried that I might not go to heaven. I will tell you that I still believe in God even though I don’t want to live the Amish way. Being Amish isn’t what gets you there. Maybe ask Dat or Mem to talk to you about that.

  Marianna drummed her fingers on her lips as she read, knowing all eyes were on her. She paused. Would Charlie ask? If so, what would her parents say?

  She didn’t know.

  She kept reading.

  Things are the same in Indiana. I’m still working at the factory. I’m saving up money. I’d like to find a small home. I won’t lie and say I don’t miss the family. It would be good to see everyone, even though I doubt that would be possible anytime soon.

  The only thing I cling to is the fact that Marianna might be coming back. There are all types of opinions on what folks around here think of that. I hear about them from some of my Amish friends who are brave enough to talk to me. Most believe she’ll return with Aaron Zook. I can’t be certain but I hope that’s the case. Aaron’s a good man, and even though I’ve left the Amish, he’s exactly the type of husband I want for our sister. Can you take care of her, brother, since I’m not around to do it?

  I best be going now. Write soon and tell me if you find any more bear tracks. Although by this time I’ll bet that those bears are all snug away, waiting for spring. Perhaps many of us are like those bears. Hunkering down, hiding from the elements, waiting for spring and new life in our hearts.

  Love,

  Levi

  Marianna pushed out a soft breath. She missed him so much. He was bossy and had always got her into trouble as kids. He’d slacked on his chores and begged her to help him catch up so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

  But oh! How she missed him.

  Marianna’s chest welled with emotion, and she realized she’d help him stack a cord of wood in the dead of winter if it meant they’d be able to spend the day together. It was odd how those memories didn’t leave, but somehow the years passed, turning from ones of frustration to fondness. Then to longing.

  “Do you miss him, too, Marianna?”

  She looked at Charlie and saw tears in his eyes.

  “Yes, I do. Very much. It just is not the same without him here.” She folded up the letter and tucked it back in the envelope, handing it back to Charlie.

  “He used to help Dat a lot.” Charlie took the envelope from her. “I used to imagine myself as big as Levi being able to do that stuff.”

  “You’ll be that big soon. Yer growing every day.”

  “Ja.” Charlie nodded. “I am, but I don’t want to be like him so much any more. He made Mem cry a lot. He made Dat sad too. All of us sad.” Her brother lowered his head. “I dunno why he’d want to go with the Englisch.”

  “Yes, I know he’s caused pain, but he’s still Levi. He still loves God. He . . .” Marianna didn’t know how to explain. She lifted her head and looked around. Even though all their eyes weren’t on her, she sensed everyone waited to see what she was going to say. “There are many people who love God, maybe even Englisch too. But yer right. Losing Levi hurt us all very much.”

  Marianna wanted to say more. She wanted to tell Charlie about how her Englisch friends had encouraged her to seek God in different ways, but now was not the time. There were things she still hoped to talk to Dat about, and Mem. Maybe even Aaron. She wanted to tell him about how her love for God had grown and how she understood God’s love for her better than she ever had.

  “I jest don’t understand how he could leave.” Charlie rose and shrugged his shoulders. “I never want to hurt someone like that or make them cry.”

  Marianna nodded and then turned to Aaron. His eyes were on The Budget newspaper spread open in his lap, but she could tell he listened. She bit her lip and curled one of her kapp strings around her finger. Aaron would be so upset if he knew how much she enjoyed being with Ben. She told herself she’d continue to pray for God’s direction . . . and she’d just be friends with them both.

  If that was possible.

  As if feeling her gaze on him, Aaron lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. His eyes held questions, as if he wondered what she thought about Levi. There was something else too.

  Guilt. What she knew—but no one else did—was how close Aaron had gotten to Naomi after Marianne left. Her friends from her circle letter had written and said they’d seen Aaron and Naomi “together” at Clara’s wedding. What did that mean? Talk of Levi obviously stirred his memories. What did those memories hold—fondness, closeness, love?

  “Anyone want Carmel Pie?” Marianna rose, and a chorus of excited voices answered her.

  She hurried to the kitchen before Aaron could see the tears coming to her eyes. If he and Naomi had been that close publicly, what had things been like when they were alone? Aaron had confessed kissing Naomi before, and he claimed that was all that happened. But could she be sure?

  Marianna pulled plates from the open cupboard and then began cutting the pie she’d made at work and had brought home for the family. It was easier to work, t
o serve, than to think about such things. Still the thoughts wouldn’t release.

  “I jest don’t understand how he could leave.”

  Being only a boy, Charlie didn’t understand. Before coming to Montana, she hadn’t understood who would want to leave the Amish either.

  Levi told her he felt pushed—like he never belonged. Marianna had never felt that way, but she did understand what it was like to be pulled.

  Don’t think of that, jest focus on being a friend.

  After getting all the pieces of pie onto plates, she carried two into the kitchen, serving Dat and Aaron first.

  “Looks delicious, denke.” Dat grinned.

  “Denke, Marianna.” Aaron took the plate, and his hand touched hers as he did so. “It’ll be good to see Levi again when we return. I think it’ll give him encouragement, maybe help remind him why family’s so important.”

  When we return? Did Aaron really think that? Or maybe—she studied his face—yes, he was just hoping. His smile was filled with questions.

  Marianna returned to the kitchen. A sudden urge to see her brother, to embrace him, overwhelmed her.

  When we return.

  She didn’t know why but she liked the sound of that. And after all, they could return as friends. That’s what she wanted, for now.

  And later? Marianna didn’t know. She didn’t want to bring her family pain, and in the long run only one path would ensure she wouldn’t. But could she do it?

  Could she walk away from the Englischman whose friendship had been one of Montana’s greatest gifts to her?

  Dear Levi,

  I know it’s been far too long since I’ve written. I’ve been busy, yes, but it’s no excuse. Perhaps I haven’t written because doing so would mean I have yet again a need to confess that I was wrong. Are you surprised? Most likely not! Older brothers are used to younger sisters doing as they ought not.

  I’ll start by saying that Charlie let me read the letter you wrote to him. I’m not sure what he wrote to you, but there is something we agree on. After reading God’s Word for myself, I’ve discovered I agree with you. One does not have to be Amish to go to heaven. ’Tis a good thing. There are many more folks in this world different from us yet the same. One does have to believe in Jesus, though, to live for Him and love Him. But of course you know that.

  While I do think we’ve chosen a right and good way to live, and even though I have no plans to leave myself, I’ve met good Christian folk here in Montana. People who love each other, care for each other, and do as Jesus told us we ought. They do not dress plain, yet I rarely see pride. They use electricity, yet still take time to focus on what matters. Not that I believe all Englisch are like this. But the men and women I’ve been able to know here are different from us by lifestyle, but same by heart.

  And that’s what I want to tell you, brother. Even if you do not choose to live the plain way, do not turn yer back upon God. Though those in our community have shunned you, He has not. Find yerself an English Bible, read the words. You will find hope there. And when you are feeling lonely because yer family is so far away, I pray our Jesus will be with you. Know my thoughts are with you too.

  Whew, it’s gut to have this off my chest. It’s gut to tell you the words I’ve been thinking. I’m mighty needy to know what you’ve been thinking and doing lately, so when you have time I’d love to read a note from you. Have you seen any of our old friends? Are you still working the same job at the factory or did they put you in another position? Do you live in the same place with the other guys who’ve left the Amish? Has anyone new joined you?

  Fer myself I’ve been helping Mem and spending time with Aaron. I’ve gotten to know him better here. It has been nice. I’m working on a quilt, stitching by the light of the lantern at night. I’m selling it to my boss—an Englisch lady who is kind. I’ve been helping a friend too. An Englisch woman about my age with a daughter. She has no husband yet others in the community help her get by.

  If you have any needs of yerself please let me know. I realize I am far. I know I haven’t been as loving to ya in the past as I could, but I do care. I do treasure you as my brother, and even though I’ll always hope you return to the Amish way, I understand more now than I ever could before.

  I’d blow kisses your way, but I’m sure they’d freeze on the way. It’s mighty cold outside, makes Indiana weather seem mild. But I am sending warm thoughts—something that’s useful on every chilly day.

  Love your sister,

  Marianna

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Is Mari here?”

  Ben entered the Kootenai Kraft and Grocery, CD in hand. He’d recorded it last time he’d been at Roy’s, and Ben was eager to share it with the person he wanted to hear it first. The person he’d written the song about.

  Annie stood behind the counter and leaned against it. “Well, good morning to you too.”

  “Sorry, Annie.” He leaned over the counter and gave Annie a quick hug. “There’s something I want Mari to listen to.”

  “Music?” Annie cocked an eyebrow and bristled up like an old mother hen.

  “Just one song.” He let the breath release—the one he realized he’d been holding. He’d hardly slept all night. Instead, he’d been up thinking about their day together and how much he enjoyed having Marianna by his side. He also realized that if his song was going to be released soon, he wanted her to hear it first.

  “Ben, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” Annie’s usual smile was gone. Her blonde lashes fluttered closed for a brief second.

  “What is it? Do you have more steps for me to build? Or need me to make a run to town?” He chuckled. What was the look she gave him about? No matter, nothing could get him down today.

  “No, son.” Annie let out a long sigh. “It’s Marianna.”

  He leaned his weight against the counter. “Is she okay, did something happen—?”

  “Not unless you call falling in love a sickness.” There was no humor in her tone.

  “I’m sorry, Annie. I don’t understand.”

  “You should. I’ve seen the way you look at her—the way she looks at you.”

  Ben ran a hand down his cheek. He supposed there was no hiding their attraction.

  “She’s Amish, and I suppose I can be partly to blame for letting this happen. For throwing you together—asking you to give her rides. But yesterday I heard folks talking, and it made me realize I wasn’t taking this as serious as I should.” Annie’s words were hardly more than a whisper. “I’ve lived in these parts a long time. I’ve seen this happen before. Hearts get broken. Folks that were friendly, turn. I, as much as anyone, know things are different here. The community is different.” She settled onto the stool next to the cash register, where Edgar usually sat. “I know the Amish and Englisch usually don’t mix like they do here, but there are invisible walls. There are some lines you just can’t cross.”

  He fought to keep the anger from his tone. “So I can be friends with an Amish person, but I can’t fall in love?”

  “You know what’ll happen. People don’t turn Amish, but the Amish . . .” She tilted up her head and looked out the window to where a large four-wheel-drive truck drove down the road half-speed. The snow was picking up.

  Ben didn’t need her to finish. “You’re worried about her leaving?” He dug his hands deep in his pocket. “Really, Annie, you’re concerned about that? I know it’s her tradition—the way she was raised—but she’ll still be walking with God, even if she doesn’t wear a kapp. I’ve seen the change in her, haven’t you? I see peace in her eyes where there was pain before.”

  “I’m not worried about her leaving. Everyone has a choice, their own life to live. I’m worried about her being led away. Think about it, Ben. Do you want to be the cause of a split in her family? Of her battle with her faith? Of the struggle whether to wear a kapp or not? It sounds like minor issues, but to these people it’s everything.”

  “So what do you want me to do? Do you w
ant me to walk away? It’s not just me. I see her feelings when I look in her eyes.” He pulled his stocking cap from his head, smacking it across his leg. “Do you think I wanted it to be this way? Don’t you think I’ve struggled? I’ve asked God to take away these feelings. I’d argued with Him, told Him it would have been easier if I hadn’t fallen in love with an Amish girl. If it could be anyone else . . .”

  Ben leaned forward on the counter, hiding his face in his hands. If Annie saw how he felt about Marianna, no doubt everyone did else too. That’s why Marianna’s dat had that talk with him. And it probably was why some of the other Amish families he used to drive stopped using his services.

  “Annie . . .” His voice sounded dry, hoarse. Maybe because all the moisture pooled near his eyes. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “You have to back off. You need to let time tell the matters of the heart. You need to allow Marianna to come to you instead of drawing her away. Love will come in God’s time. I know, because I had to learn all that years ago, when I fell in love.”

  “But . . . you’re single.”

  Annie took Aaron’s hand. “Uh-huh.”

  “That doesn’t help.”

  “I know, son.” Annie squeezed his hand. “But you have to let her go. This has to be Marianna’s decision. She’s got to choose her own path. Let God lead her. He has the perfect plan for her—for you—you’ve got to trust Him with that.”

  He hated this. It was tearing him apart. But he knew Annie was right. “I have to let her go.”