Along Wooded Paths (15 page)

Abe Sommer sat at the edge of his bed looking at the Bible in his hand. His eyes blinked and he knew if he laid down he’d be asleep in less than a minute. Ruth sat up, scooted closer to him, and rubbed his shoulder with her hand.

“You can get up in the morning and read. You’ve had a long day.” She yawned. “We all have.”

Abe nodded, but he opened the Bible all the same. “I sleep better if I read God’s words. And it gives me things to think about the day next.”

“I’ll read it for you if you’d like.” She scooted up even more and swung her legs over so her feet touched the floor.

Abe’s head jerked back. “You will?” He cocked his head and narrowed his gaze. Was this the same woman who told him he was going against their ancestors by not reading the Bible in German? Wasn’t she the one who refused to talk to him for a whole day when he dared to mention a prayer meeting held down the street that was attended by both Amish and Englisch?

He handed the Bible to her, and she opened it to the bookmarked section. She glanced down briefly and then looked back at him.

“I appreciate your help with the dinner dishes tonight, that was
gut
of you. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Jest trying to be a loving husband, that’s all.”

She placed a hand on her hip. “Some Amish man you are. If word gets out you’ll get a tongue lashing for sure. They might even try to get you to wear an apron.” She chuckled.

He smiled and placed a hand on hers. He held her gaze for a moment, wanting her to know that even though he appreciated her humor he was being serious. “I know I haven’t always been the best husband, Ruth. Especially early on. I know that I was harsh even, and”—he lifted a finger and stroked her chin—“and it left you looking for love in other places.”

Ruth’s eyes widened and a small gasp escaped her lips. Pain cut through Abe’s heart. He swore to himself long ago he’d never bring it up. He’d try to forget. But that had been impossible. And forgiving? Folks just expected that because a person was Amish it came natural-like. From the deepest part of him, he knew that wasn’t the case.

“I forgive you, Ruth. For what happened then. And for not telling me you invited Aaron here. I know why. I know you don’t want Marianna to make the same mistakes you did, and while we’re both praying for her choice to be Aaron, I want you to know that if Marianna fails—if any of our children fail—it’s not your fault. You’ve been the best mother anyone could imagine. You’ve been the best wife.”

The tears came with a quiver of Ruth’s chin. She sucked in a heavy breath, and she cried silently into her cupped hands. Abe didn’t try to stop her. Just as he’d been holding inside all the pain and heartache for so long, she’d been too. She needed this. Just like he did.

He reached over and took the Bible from her lap and then lifted it so he could see the Scripture verses he had underlined.

A few minutes passed, and as her crying softened, he began to read the words that hadn’t left his mind the last few days.

“Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, ‘Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?’

“Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.’ Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. As he began the settlement, a man who owed him ten thousand bags of gold was brought to him. Since he was not able to pay, the master ordered that he and his wife and his children and all that he had be sold to repay the debt . . .”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Yesterday’s clear skies were just a memory. What sounded like a rumble echoed down from the mountains, sending a shiver down Marianna’s spine. Earlier today—like yesterday—the sky had been clear, deceptive. Then, in less than an hour’s time, a storm blew in. More than one customer said that’s how it was. If you didn’t like the weather in West Kootenai, just wait fifteen minutes.

“Sometimes the mountains roar when the big storms are coming,” Edgar said. “The whipping of the pines on the snow-covered hills is like the mane of a beast shaking to life.”

“That’s some image.” Marianna rubbed her arms trying to warm them. For the first time the woodstove in the dining area couldn’t keep up.

“It’ll be a good night to pop popcorn and make popcorn balls.” Edgar sounded so wistful. “That’s what my mother used to do on nights like this.”

Marianna leaned against the front counter watching the wind whip the falling snow sideways. “In Indiana, Dat would read us stories under the lantern light. Sometimes—no make that most times—we’d drift off to the sound of his voice. Mem would let us get our blankets and pillows and sleep by the woodstove. If it was real bad, Dat and Mem would join us.”

She thought back to those times. Considered how they’d bring their clothes down and dress by the woodstove, too, trying to keep warm. With Aaron around, Marianna couldn’t do that. Instead, she dressed as fast as she could in the cold room upstairs and hurried down to warm herself.

Through a quarter inch of ice on the window, Marianna watched their last customer hurry out to the car.

“Think we’ll close up shop early today.” Annie rubbed her hands as she hurried from the back room, closing the flue on the fireplace. “No one’s going to be out in this weather.”

“Are you sure? What if someone comes and needs something? I can stay if you like.” Marianna couldn’t help but wonder about Ben. She hadn’t seen him for almost a week, and Dat said he hadn’t seen him around either. Had he left the area? Was he holed up in his cabin? Marianna hoped he wasn’t staying away in order to stop the rumors about the two of them. And yet, it seemed like just the noble kind of thing he’d do.

Annie shook her head. “If it’s an emergency, they all have my number. I’m just down the road.”

Marianna hid her smile. She never imagined keeping the phone number of the store owner back home—not that she made many calls. It was just that folks around here were like an extended family, everyone taking care of each other. She imagined Annie had a few numbers she called when she needed help. Was Uncle Ike’s number for the phone he kept in his shed one of those?

“Get your things, I’ll drive you home.” Annie hurried through the building, shutting off most of the lights as she did so.

Marianna didn’t protest. She didn’t like the idea of walking home in that weather.

They locked everything up in record time and hurried out to the car. Marianna noticed some of the drifts near the shed were waist-high already.

A few minutes later Annie’s small car was chugging over the mountain road. The engine moaned as it plowed through the drifts.

When they pulled up to Marianna’s house, lantern light glowed in the windows. Marianna could see her family gathered around the dining room table, including Uncle Ike. It was a bit early for dinner, but they were focused on something.

She put her hand on the car’s door handle and turned to Annie. “Thank you so much for the ride. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. I couldn’t let you walk in the storm.” Although Annie spoke to Marianna, her eyes were on the window.

“I suppose I’ll just go home and feed my cats. Maybe eat some leftovers and watch a movie.” She looked to Marianna, and for the first time Marianna considered her boss’s life.

Annie lived alone. She didn’t have any family in the area. No wonder she liked being at the store so much—these people, this community—they had become her family.

“Would you like to come in?” Marianna pulled her collar tighter to her chin. “Everyone’s home. I’m sure Mem would love to visit. Ever since having Joy she hasn’t been out much.”

“Yes, sure.” Annie didn’t have to be asked twice. She drove her car farther up the driveway and turned off the engine. Before Marianna could open her door, Annie stepped outside, the wind whipping her long, blonde braid like an angry snake.

Marianna climbed from the car. She didn’t need to worry about closing it because the wind slammed it shut for her. Small bits of snow stung her face as she hurried to the house. Her hand held her bonnet, which she wore over her kapp. The wind blew hard enough to blow them both away.

They rushed through the door and let out heavy sighs, feeling the warmth of the house. Marianna wiped the cold wetness from her eyes, then looked to the table and saw that everyone had gathered around Aaron.

“Marianna, you should see these sketches.” Uncle Ike motioned to her. “Annie, you too.”

They both took off their coats and hurried to the table. How different things were from this time last year. Before, having an Englischwoman in their home would have been a big deal. Everyone would have been on edge, but having Annie here wasn’t unusual. She was just another neighbor stopping in during the storm.

On the table were six sketches Aaron had drawn. They were all done in pencil, yet to Marianna they reminded her of some of the black and white photos they had hanging in the craft area of the store.

There were three landscape photos, two of the barn and one of the woodstove with Trapper sleeping curled in front of it. But it was the final sketch that took Marianna’s breath away. It was her. Sitting in the rocking chair by the woodstove. Her hands were folded on her lap, and she looked at something in the distance, her smile joyful.

Sudden tears stung her eyes, partly because Aaron had captured her that way. She didn’t remember him sitting there, watching her and sketching. He must have captured the image in his mind—in his heart—and later put it on the page.

The tears came for another reason too. The joy on her face reminded her of the smile in the photo with Ben. She’d tucked that photo away and refused to look at it. Seeing this sketch made her miss him in a way. It also made her realize how close Aaron watched her. How . . . how beautiful she looked in his gaze.

No one in the group mentioned that he’d captured an image of her face—something the Amish weren’t supposed to do. Instead, they were enthralled by his talent.

She wiped her eyes and glanced up to see his face. He lifted his eyebrows.
Do you like it?
his gaze seemed to say.

She nodded, offered Aaron a smile, and then turned to Annie.

“I can’t believe these.” Annie sounded so excited. “Aaron, I have to have them for my store.”

“Excuse me?” Aaron ran a hand down his cheek. “What do you mean? For folks to look at?”

“Look at? To buy!” She leaned closer and shook her head, as if not believing it.

“Nah, I don’t think so. I wouldna even have shown everyone if Charlie hadn’t told.” Aaron sent a piercing gaze to the boy. “He’s not so great at keeping secrets, but he’ll get better. Won’t you?”

Charlie nodded, his bangs swishing across his forehead.

“But, why wouldn’t you want to sell them? These are wonderful.”

Uncle Ike placed a hand on Annie’s arm, as if trying to temper her excitement. “It’s the Amish way. We don’t produce art for show. We don’t hang art. We dona like to draw attention to ourselves. That’s why we dress as we do—all the same. It’s a way to show that no one is better than another.”

Annie’s eyes focused on Ike, and she seemed to be listening, but Marianna could see by her tight-lipped smile she didn’t agree.

“Yes, I know,” Annie stated simply. “Yet it’s possible for everyone to be on equal ground and still be unique, isn’t it? Aaron’s artwork is unique. It’s a gift from God and he should use it. Wouldn’t you hate it if you gave a special gift to someone only to later discover it was never used?” She paused and scanned the others but did not get an answer. Still, that didn’t hinder her. “I have some old frames in back of my store I’d be happy to donate. We could free these and put them up for sale. It could help Aaron with some money. I’m sure, with the hospital bills—”

Dat raised his hand. “That’s not needed. Our community takes care of its own. When one is in need, we all pitch in. From what I hear, Aaron’s bills are already covered. Just like Charlie’s bills.”

“Yes, well”—Annie jutted out her chin—“can’t he use a little money? He can’t work with his injury. And if he wishes to”— Annie seemed to rethink what she’d been about to say—“I’m sure he’ll need the money for his own home and for whatever his future plans may be.”

“And I
would
like to give some to the Sommers.”

Aaron’s words startled Marianna. When she looked at him, she found him looking up into Annie’s face.

“Do you think I could really make money?”

Annie nodded. “Yes. I’m not sure how much. I can price them at different amounts and see.” She chuckled. “We’ll start off high, of course.”

Aaron nodded. “It sounds good,
ja
.” Then he reached out and took the sketch of Marianna. “Except this one.” His face grew serious. “I really should have shown Marianna first.”

“I understand.” Annie looked around the room, as if taking in the sight of the place, and perhaps also noticing for the first time the lack of wall art. Then she looked to Ike to see if he still disagreed. Ike didn’t comment, but he looked away. He rose and moved into the kitchen to see if Mem needed any help with dinner.

Marianna noticed disappointment in Annie’s face. She’d won the argument, and perhaps helped Aaron, but she did not win favor with Ike. And from the sadness in her eyes, Marianna wondered if Annie wished she hadn’t pressed. Maybe she should have handled that different. If Amish men appreciated anything, it was being respected—especially in front of others.