Along Wooded Paths Read online

  Ben was glad. It bugged him to see that house sitting half-done all those years. It seemed only right the brothers would finish what was started. Half-realized dreams did no one any good.

  Seeing that electric lights had already been set up inside, Ben smiled. Sure, the Amish in the area keep plain homes, but when it came to work, most of them used the modern tools their bosses provided. They never seemed conflicted by that, and he never brought it up.

  He parked in front of the house and jumped out. He was just about to open the tailgate when he noticed Abe striding toward him. Marianna’s father usually wore a wide smile, but not today. Ben ran a hand through his hair. What could be wrong? He hoped nothing was wrong with Marianna.

  “Ben.” Abe approached, pausing near the rear of the truck. “It’s good of you to bring our supplies up. Our buggies would have had a hard time getting those things this way.”

  Ben opened the tailgate. “No problem. Glad I can help.” He reached for a wooden sawhorse, but Abe’s hand stopped him.

  “Hold up. Can we talk a few minutes first?”

  “Do you need help with something else? Another load?” Even as Ben asked he could tell from the older man’s face this conversation had nothing to do with work.

  “No. I’d like to talk to you about my daughter. Do you mind taking a short walk?”

  “I don’t mind. I believe from the top of the hill behind the house there’s a great view of Lake Koocanusa.”

  Abe nodded and headed that direction.

  Sucking in a deep breath, and willing his pounding heart to calm, Ben stepped into pace next to the older man.

  They walked toward the top of the hill, and Abe cleared his throat. He glanced over at Ben and let out a low sigh. “What I’m gonna say should have been said months ago. I’ve seen the signs, but Ruth finally convinced me that I should say something to you.”

  Ben pressed his lips into a straight line. “Signs?”

  “The care you and my Marianna have for each other. It’s plain to see for anyone looking.”

  Ben nodded. His guess was that Ruth—Mrs. Sommer—had been watching when he and Marianna had emerged from the woods yesterday and that had been the last straw. He could try to explain—tell Mr. Sommer they’d met by accident, which was the truth—but it didn’t really matter.

  Abe was right, and Ben knew it.

  “As much as I like you, Ben, our Amish community has its own ways. To be baptized into the church you’re not just dedicating yourself to God, but your people. Relationships with outsiders are not to be. Fer as long as Marianna has been old enough to consider staying Amish, she’s made it clear she would. It’s all she’s wanted. To live by our ways, to marry, and to raise children to do the same.”

  It’s all she’s wanted. Those words played through Ben’s mind. Was that what this was about? Abe was worried that if their affection continued to grow Marianna might leave the Amish way of life? Ben clenched his fists by his side. Part of him understood their worries, their pain. This family had been through a lot. They’d lost two children to death and one to the world. No wonder they were being protective.

  “I understand, sir, and I’d be lying if I were to say I didn’t care for your daughter. I do. I care so much in fact that I want what’s best for her. I mean if the Amish way of life is her choice—”

  “It is.”

  Ben nodded and his footsteps slowed as they neared the top of the hill. The trees were sparse and the world seemed to open up before them. There was not only a clear view of the lake, but additional mountain ranges beyond that. Ben wished he could crest an emotional hill and get such a view of his own life. To see in every direction and know the right way to walk.

  “I understand what you’re saying, Abe.” Ben crossed his arms over his chest, and he turned to him. “And I will honor your wishes. I won’t push Marianna. I won’t attempt to draw her away. I can promise you that. But I do have one question.”

  Abe stroked his beard as he met Ben’s gaze.

  “You’ve been reading God’s Word for a while. Do you believe, sir, that one can be a follower of Christ without being Amish? That they have the same chance of getting into heaven?”

  Abe’s gaze narrowed. He opened his mouth and then closed it again.

  Ben lifted a hand. “You don’t have to answer me now. It’s just something to think about. But know I will do my best to be Marianna’s friend and look out for her best interest, just as I look after yours.”

  Abe nodded once, took a final scan of the valley, and then turned and headed back down the hill. Ben wasn’t sure if he’d insulted the man. He hoped not.

  Dear Lord, may You use my feeble words to do good, not harm.

  Back at the truck they unloaded the tools and supplies together. They chatted about the project, about the snow, but Ben knew what weighed heaviest on both of their minds. When Ike came out to help, it was clear he sensed the awkwardness between them, but he didn’t say anything. It was only after Ben closed the tailgate and drove away, heading out the way he came, that he released the heavy breath bottled up inside.

  It’s all she’s wanted.

  Those words haunted him as he drove back home. As he settled before the wood-burning stove in his small cabin and opened his Bible, Ben knew what he wanted. He wanted Marianna. But did he want her at the cost of all she knew, loved, longed for?

  To share his love would be to draw her away. To bring her shame. To put a wall between her and her family and community. Yet he also knew God’s heart, and even though he cherished his relationship with his Amish friends, he couldn’t help but question their commitment to tradition, to their old ways. While he appreciated their dedication to family, church, community, an uneasiness had settled deep in his gut. Something just didn’t sit right with him.

  Over the past three years Ben’s relationship with God had grown. Following God by obeying outside rules—like rules of dress or whether or not to have electricity—was not necessary. And that’s where he struggled. Marianna could love him and love God. Her salvation depended on her heart, not her kapp. Problem was, mentioning such things to her would take away any chance of friendship, let alone the hope for more. He might have already ruined everything by questioning her father.

  Ben closed his eyes to pray, but no words came. He wanted to trust God, but defeat gripped his throat, refusing to release. Pursuing Marianna—as he wanted—would bring more harm than good.

  It was a hard decision, not pursuing her romantically. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to see her, but he knew something else. When he looked into her eyes, Ben saw she cared. And to confess his love would lead to something he never desired.

  How could he ask the woman he loved to choose between him and the only way of life she’d ever known?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Muddy footprints from yesterday’s slush lay buried under a layer of white snow that sparkled like the diamonds in Millie Arnold’s wedding ring. Marianna held her gloved hand out. Glittery flakes sparkled on the black wool. Not that she’d ever have a wedding ring like Millie’s. Well, unless she married an Englischman.

  Not that she’d marry an Englischman.

  She shook her glove, scattering the diamond snowflakes.

  With wide swishes of her broom, Marianna swept snow from the front steps, but it fell faster than she could sweep. Millie Arnold had arrived not five minutes prior, settling into the table closest to the kitchen for warmth from the woodstove and conversation from the bakers. Now it wasn’t clear where her footprints had been. White flakes had smoothed the landscape with a frosting of white.

  Marianna blew out a frosty breath. The bone-chilling air, whipping through the tall pines, stung her cheeks. Finished with the steps, she turned and swung open the door to Kootenai Kraft and Grocery. She stepped into the embrace of the warmth and stomped her snow-caked boots on the front doorstep. Snow ringed the hem of her plain blue dress like lace—the only lace she’d ever wear—and she attempted to brush it away.
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br />   She moved to the dining room area to warm her hands by the fire, and discovered Millie’d moved from the kitchen area and now sat in the wooden booth next to Jebadiah Beiler. Millie’s red lips made an O shape and wrinkles extended out from her mouth, splayed like cracks in weathered paint. Her eyebrows lowered in two straight lines and her concerned eyes were fixed on Jebadiah.

  “The van must’ve been taking the corner too fast.” She pointed to the copy of The Daily Interlake, the newspaper spread on the table before him. “Did ya read an Amish man was the passenger and he’s up in the hospital in Kalispell?”

  “Ja, I can’t say I know of anyone missing.” Jebadiah looked toward his bushy eyebrows as if doing a mental count. Leaning forward, arms on the table, he stroked his beard, which reached the second button on his simple blue shirt. “Maybe they’re mistaken. Coulda been someone dressed plain.”

  “Or maybe someone coming for a visit.” Millie’s voice and mannerisms were fit for a chow line. A rancher’s wife all her life, her face was as weathered as the leather saddlebag hanging on the dining room wall. But Marianna had discovered Millie’s interior wasn’t nearly as tough. Weeks ago the older woman had bought two sacks of groceries and loaded them in the back seat of Jenny Avery’s compact car while the young mom shared a bowl of soup with her four-year-old daughter, Kenzie. Jenny had asked around, but no one spilled the beans. Millie even tucked a hundred-dollar bill into a box of Pop Tarts, Marianna later heard.

  Marianna grabbed up the carafe of fresh coffee to top off her customers’ mugs and to get a glimpse of the photo in the newspaper. Her heartbeat always quickened at any news of a vehicle accident, whether buggy or automobile. Her two sisters had died in such an accident on the very night she was born, when a semitruck hit their buggy. Even though she’d never met Marilyn and Joanna, the fast falling snow reminded her of their loss. No sooner had she swept off a layer of pain over heart, than another layer fell. What muddy footprints hid underneath the thin covering of protection she’d built around her soul?

  All those years she spent always trying to be the perfect Amish girl to make up for her sisters’ loss. . . . All that changed when her family moved to Montana. Here she discovered maybe God had a plan for her alone.

  “Heard that passenger got his leg broke real bad.” This from Howard Anderson, who sat across the dining room. “My wife Annabelle called down to check on him. It’s a young man from Indiana come to Montana for a visit. Goes by the name of Aaron Zook.”

  “Aaron?” The whispered name escaped Marianna’s lips. There could be another Aaron Zook, but she knew it wasn’t. It was her Aaron—the man she’d always thought she’d marry.

  “Whoa there!” Millie’s voice split the air, and Marianna looked down. Hot coffee poured over the mug and onto the table.

  “I’m so sorry.” Marianna set the carafe on the table and grabbed up her apron, wiping the spill. “It didn’t get on you, did it?”

  “No, just soggied up my napkin.” Millie chuckled. “I’m still a bit chilled from the elements, but I wasn’t wanting to get warmed up that way.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Marianna hurried to the kitchen for a soapy towel. Her hands trembled as she plunged them into the sink. The hot water stung, but she barely noticed as she rung the washcloth out. Her chest tightened, as if someone had poured concrete into her lungs. Months ago she hadn’t wanted to leave Aaron, and now?

  She felt trapped.

  She hurried back and wiped up the table. Should she call home and ask her parents if they knew about Aaron being here? Would they answer the phone? Should she talk to Annie, who worked on the schedule in the back office, and ask for the day off? To trudge back home. To discover what Aaron’s being here meant. Why he hadn’t told her he was coming? He wouldn’t just show up without an invitation. He would have written a letter . . .

  Mem.

  The heaviness on her chest increased. She pulled back her shoulders, sucking in a breath.

  Ever since Marianna got off the train and returned to West Kootenai, Mem had acted strange. When Marianna entered the front door a month ago, she’d expected her mother to cry tears of joy. That wasn’t the case.

  Mem expressed concern when Marianna left a quilt for Ben. Then, when she’d walked back in the door with Ben at her side, one would have thought from Mem’s reaction that Marianna stopped at a chapel on the way home and married the Englischman! It was later, in the month following, when Marianna had little contact with Ben, that Mem had seemed less worried. But only slightly.

  Had Mem brought Aaron here for a surprise visit to ensure her heart didn’t stray toward the Englischman?

  Marianna swallowed hard and returned to the kitchen. She pulled the dishtowel off the bread dough. It had doubled in size. Just to make sure it was ready, she poked her index finger into the dough. Mem had showed her the trick. If the hole she made stayed in the dough without filling in, the dough was ready to punch down. But if the hole closed—even a little—the dough wasn’t ready and needed more time to ferment. If the dough collapsed—which had happened to her more than once—it had risen too long and would not rise again.

  This dough was perfect. Her fist punched it down, gently pushing her knuckles into the center of the dough. Then she pulled the edge of the dough toward the center, punching it down again. Satisfied, she turned it over, giving it time to rest.

  Mem had been acting peculiar. She’d been talking a lot, asking Marianna about every aspect of her work. She’d commented how nice it would be for Marianna to have her own home and family some day and not have to brave the cold, watching her footing on winter’s icy paths.

  Mem had also cleaned the house from top to bottom.

  How could she do it? How could Mem invite Aaron here without telling her?

  The bell on the front door jingled. Marianna washed her hands and then hurried out to greet the customer. Edgar had called in sick, and it was the other Amish girl, Sarah’s, day off. Annie, the owner, would come out to help if Marianna needed, but maybe being busy would keep her mind off the fact that Aaron Zook lay in a hospital bed just an hour’s drive away by automobile.

  An Amish man entered, his head lowered as he brushed snow from his hat. When he lifted his face, she recognized Dat, looking more tired, more stooped then she’d seen in a while.

  Dat’s eyes drifted toward her. His face molded into the same look she witnessed the night Levi left. Her father offered her a blank stare that gave evidence of rejection, disbelief.

  Marianna dried her hands on her already damp apron and then stepped toward him, trying to control quivering hands. Keeping her breathing even.

  “Is it true that Aaron’s here? That he got in an accident and he’s in the hospital?”

  “Yes, and no.” Dat’s words were slow and heavy, like the large icicles hanging from the porch outside. “He did get in an accident, but he’s not in the hospital.” Dat removed his hat from his head, brushing it. He repeated the motion of a moment ago even though snow was no longer on the rim. “They released him this morning. He’s back at our house.”

  “But what is he doing here? Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?”

  “I didn’t know. It was Ruth.” The way her father said her mother’s name told Marianna the sting of betrayal pierced him too. “Mrs. Zook sent a letter to your mother. She returned one, sending an invitation for Aaron to come. Mem thought it would be a nice surprise for you since you didn’t go back.”

  She could tell from his tone that there was more to it than Mem wanting to give her a “nice surprise.” She lowered her voice and stepped toward him. “Mem had no right to do this. To assume—”

  Dat placed a hand on Marianna’s shoulder. This type of touch was rare, but it spoke volumes. This is how things are, the look in his eyes stated. We’ll not mention it again.

  Two years ago she would have let the matter drop. Even six months ago she would have done the same. But now? Marianna balled her fists at her side. She wouldn’t be able to hold t
he words in if she tried. Maybe, as those back in Indiana believed, she’d already been corrupted by the Englisch ways.

  Dat studied her, frustration reflecting in his gray eyes.

  Her words poured out. “I can read it in your eyes, Dat.” She tried to keep her tone respectful. A heavy weariness came upon her, surprising her. “But we both know that’s not the truth. She didn’t want him here for a surprise. She—she’s worried about me. Worried I’m not going to carry through with my plans to marry Aaron.” Marianna clenched her fists then slowly released them. Her mother did what any Amish mother who’d already lost three children would do. Marianna cleared her throat. “Like I’ve told you before, Ben’s a good friend. Nothing more.”

  Even as he nodded, she could see her father didn’t believe her. Dat rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead, as if wiping away a memory. Maybe the memory of her and Ben in this very room. He in his Englisch clothes, she in Amish dress. Her with his guitar in his hands, and him—with his arms around her. His cheek close. Her body resting against his. She guessed that’s what Dat thought about.

  Maybe because the memory always hung in front of her, like frozen breath on the air.

  It was a memory she’d have to pluck from the surface of her heart and plunge deeper inside. She had Aaron to think of now. He needed her. And a good Amish girl never turned her back on a friend.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dat had only to explain the situation and Annie gave Marianna the day off. She and Dat walked home through the snow. The exertion of wading through the calf-high drifts kept her warm, but neither spoke. Disbelief sealed her lips, and Dat’s far-off gaze held a hint of betrayal. His own wife had lied to him. Not by words, but by silence.