Along Wooded Paths (18 page)

“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 build, 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 anything 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.

“Wow, I don’t know what to say.”

“From the look in your eyes, it would be, ‘What happened to the old Carrie?’” She chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

Carrie rose and carried her coffee mug to the kitchen. “She’s gone, hopefully for good. Well, some of her. I do still know how to make some mean pancakes if you’re hungry.”

“Starved.”

Carrie smiled. “Great, and after I whip them up I want to hear about you, especially about the girl in the song.”

Ben watched as Carrie made breakfast, and they talked about old friends and how they were doing. Most of Ben’s old music buddies were living the same wild life. A life Ben didn’t miss.

When they finally sat down to eat, Ben knew he wasn’t going to get out of her questions this time.

“So, tell me about this young woman. You know, the one in the song.”

Ben took a small pile of pancakes and put them on his plate, covering them with syrup. “Who says there’s a girl? Maybe I just made it up. If everyone had to be in love before they wrote a love song, then we’d be hurting for some good music.”

Carrie took a big bite of her pancakes. She cocked one eyebrow, and he could tell she didn’t buy it.

“If you’re a good Christian boy, like my dad says you are, I don’t think you should be lying like this.” She smirked.