Along Wooded Paths (7 page)

No. He settled his head into the pillow once again. He didn’t want her to think him too weak. Besides, she had a job to go to tomorrow. As much as he did not like that she worked with the Englisch, he understood. Her parents needed her help for a time. That’s what he told himself anyway. She’d work until she returned to Indiana. After that she’d have to do it no longer.

That had been his plan all along—for her work to be in their home. Most Amish wives didn’t work outside in stores and such, but they often sewed or baked for others. He didn’t want that for Marianna. He wanted to prepare enough ahead of time to give her a comfortable life. His herd had been a part of that. His job on the Stoll farm too. And the cabin, most of all. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he’d worked faster—stayed up later at night to get the job done. If he’d finished just three months prior, they’d be heavy into courting before her family decided to move.

Nah.
He shook his head, ignoring how his neck, too, still ached from the accident. As his dat always said, a task takes as long as it takes. No use rushing around—not like the Englisch did. Hard work got everything done. He’d given it his best. He had to trust that now.

Trapper approached and placed his paws on the sofa, nuzzling Aaron’s cheek with his wet nose.

“Yer not minding yer master. Or rather mistress,” Aaron whispered. “I’m all right. I’m a crippled one—the kind the wolves like—but they’re not coming in.”

The sound of footsteps interrupted his words. Not the clomping of shoes, but the softness of bare feet. He glanced up and saw them first—Marianna’s bare feet on the hardwood floor, her toes curled up. Just a few inches of her nightdress could be seen under the hem of her robe. He glanced up to see Marianna pulling the collar of the robe tight to her neck. On her head she wore a white sleeping kerchief. Her eyes were round, wide, innocent. Aaron’s heart pounded to see her dressed so—so intimately—but he tried not to let it show.

He pulled his hand off Trapper’s ear and pointed to Marianna. “See, you’re in trouble now.”

“Sorry he woke you, Aaron.”

The way she whispered his name was a mix between a question and a statement, as if she still didn’t believe he was really here.

“It’s all right. I wasna sleeping yet.”

“Is it the pain in your leg?” She took a tentative step forward, stretching her hand toward Trapper, then paused.

“Some of it.” Aaron didn’t know how to tell her the pain in his leg mattered little in comparison to the questions of his heart.

Marianna, do ya still love me? Did you ever?
He swallowed hard looking to her hair, braided and hanging over her shoulder. He hadn’t seen it down like that in years—eight at least—but it was different than her childhood braids. What it would be like to untie it, to run his fingers through it? Did it feel as soft and silky as it looked?

“I don’t know why he’s not coming to me.” She hunkered down and stretched out her hand to Trapper.

Why didn’t Marianna come closer to get the dog? Did she feel the charged air in the room as he did? It reminded him of the time he’d first been digging the foundation for his house and a lightning bolt had struck a tree not too far away. The hairs on his neck had stood on end as they did now. Aaron tried to sit up but pain shot through his leg. The deep ache had been there all along but had been forgotten as soon as she walked into the room.

“He’s never done this before.” She patted her legs, and still Trapper sat there, close to Aaron.

Aaron smiled. “I guess that’s a good sign. Maybe he likes me.”

“
Ja
.” Marianna stood and cocked her head. She placed a hand on her hip. “Maybe he wants to stay with you tonight. If you don’t mind.” She sounded disappointed.

“I don’t mind. But will you be okay?”

She sighed. “I think I will.” Her eyes stayed on him and he saw something there. Care. Appreciation. Love? He wasn’t quite sure, but he hoped.

“Yes, Aaron. I’ll be
gut
.” She moved toward her room, her nightdress swishing against her bare calves. And for some reason Aaron had a feeling she wasn’t talking about the dog any more.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ben Stone straightened the quilt on his bed. What had he’d done to deserve such a gift? He’d made his bed everyday since Marianna gave the quilt to him, running his fingers over her careful stitching, sending up a prayer or two. First time in his life bed making had become a habit. First time he’d prayed so intensely for a beautiful woman.

Sometimes he wanted to pinch himself that Marianna had stayed. Other times he kicked himself for not telling her more when she got off that train. In his dreams he ran toward her, sweeping her up in is arms, burying his face in her neck, and breathing in the scent of her. Every time he awoke, a powerful sense of loss assaulted him. She was here, but he could not hold her. He couldn’t see her . . . well, at least not often. Even though Mr. Sommer had made that fact clear, Ben had known it already. He understood all Marianna risked to return his affection.

Some days he couldn’t help it. He’d visit the store despite his stocked pantry. A few times he’d chatted to her about nonsense things. Other times he’d entered quietly, so she wouldn’t notice. He watched her working in the kitchen, her hands busy with bread or pies. Her eyes looking out the window, lost in thought.

The scent of brewing coffee filled the air. He headed to his kitchen for a cup of coffee when he heard knocking. Ben paused and turned to his front door. Surely someone wouldn’t be out this early. Maybe it was a chunk of snow falling from the roof. He pulled a coffee cup from the cupboard and heard it again. It was definitely a knock.

Ben hurried to the door. When he opened it, he was surprised to find Ike standing there.

“Look who’s the early bird.” Ben opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

“Thanks. Do I smell coffee?” Ike stepped inside and removed his jacket. “I was out of coffee beans and I was sure I could find a cup here before we headed up to the worksite.

Ben cocked an eyebrow. Ike lived halfway between him and the store. It would have been just as easy for Ike to walk over there. Unless . . . Ben eyed the Amishman, whose smooth face proved he was still a bachelor. There was a shadow of worry in the man’s eyes.

Unless this had to do with more than coffee.

Ben motioned to the dining room table, pushing to the side a pile of laundry he’d yet to put away.

He poured two cups. “Take anything?”

“Nope, just black.”

Ben handed Ike his mug then added a teaspoon of sugar to his own.

“So the roads are pretty bad out there.” Ike sipped his coffee. “There’s been all types of accidents. You’d think people would understand that when it snows they have to slow down.”

Ben sat across from Ike, brushing a few crumbs from the table onto the floor. “It’s our hurried lives. We try to do too much, too fast and we end up paying for it.” He nodded at Ike. “That’s one thing your people have gotten right—taking the time to do things as they ought, in the time they need to take.”

“Yeah, well, it was one of our own who was injured in one of those accidents.”

Ben sat up straighter, leaning his elbow on the table. “Who?”

“You don’t know him. It’s a kid from back where we come from in Indiana. Not a kid, really—a man. The man Marianna planned on marrying.”

The coffee cup in Ben’s hand clunked onto the table, sloshing coffee over the side, but Ben paid it no mind.

“Mari . . . Marianna was engaged?”

Ben felt like someone had just sucker punched him in the kidneys.
I’m such a fool.

“No, we don’t have engagements like the Englisch. The easiest way to explain it was there was an understanding between them.

“And he’s here?”

Ike nodded. “At my brother’s home, all casted up with a broken leg.”

Ben leaned back in his chair and slouched down. No wonder Marianna acted so distant yesterday. No wonder Mr. Sommer had given him that talk. Both needed to make sure he was out of the way so Marianna’s old beau could step back into place.

Not that Ben ever had a slot on her dance card. He’d only wished for such a thing.

Ben took a sip from his coffee then set it down. He swallowed it, wondering why it suddenly tasted so bitter in his mouth.

Marianna walked to work, excited that her tracks were the first in the newly fallen snow. It glittered on the ground like tiny crystals reflecting the first rays of morning light. White snow stacked upon the dark green branches of the pine trees like a thick smearing of marshmallow cream.

She moved her booted feet with slow steps, amazed she’d lived so many years not knowing that such a beautiful place as West Kootenai existed. As she rounded the corner, turning onto the main road leading to the store, she could hear the sound of a river in the distance. A large creek—Boulder Creek she remembered being told—plunged down from the mountains. Unlike the smaller streams in the area, it hadn’t frozen over and she guessed that it wouldn’t. Instead, she imagined the water rushing down to Lake Koocanusa. So much power being absorbed into the expanse of the water, just like her breathed prayers escaped into the cold air around her.

God, show me. Help me.

She didn’t know what she wanted to be shown. She didn’t know what type of help she needed. Nothing made sense anymore. When she left Indiana she’d been certain of her feelings for Aaron. When she’d gotten off the train and returned to her parents’ home, she’d been certain about that decision. But now? It was as if someone took a big, wooden spoon and mixed up her emotions. Thank goodness she had to work today. She needed to get away—to escape Aaron’s fixed gaze. To put her hands to work so her mind wouldn’t have too much time to think.

Entering the front door of the store, Edgar’s smile greeted her first. His white beard looked fuller than she remembered, reminding her of the Santa decorations she’d seen in the windows of their Englisch neighbors back home.

“You feeling better?” She removed her jacket and brushed it off.

“As good as can be expected for an old man.” Edgar pretended that answering her questions was bothersome, even though he had nothing better to do than wait for the next customer.

“It’s quite a cold fall out there. Like nothing I’ve seen in Indiana.” She hung her coat on the hook behind the counter and tucked her gloves into the pocket. Then she moved to the counter.

“Nothing unusual. Not like ’96. Now that was a snowy year . . .”

“1896?” Marianna laughed, and he eyed her. Even though Edgar didn’t smile at her joke, she noticed humor in his gaze.

“Haven’t been around that long, but I’ve seen a lot of changes.”

“Really? Like what?” She had baking to get done, but she also knew it meant a lot to Edgar for her to stop and talk. She could tell he appreciated it even if he never said so.

“Like the lake. It didn’t used to be there, you know.”

“Lake Koocanusa?” Marianna thought about the first time she’d driven over the high, long bridge that stretched from hillside to hillside with the lake far below.

“Everything changed when they put in the Libby Dam.” Edgar sighed. “Sometimes I get homesick for how things used to be. My aunt and uncle’s house is just under where the Koocanusa bridge now stands. My parents’ house was two miles past that. When they put in the dam, they cleared off the mountainside. The Boulder Creek I knew changed too.”

“You mean there used to be houses down there—where the lake is now?” Marianna straightened the stack of postcards on the counter, glancing at the captured images of the lake, mountains, and trees.

“There used to be a whole town. Stuff got moved up the mountain when they put the dam in. Other things just got covered over.”

“That doesn’t seem right.” Marianna brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead. “Seems like things should stay the same.”

“Nothing stays the same, darling.” Edgar looked at her and winked, the hard edges on his face softening. “The older you get the more you’ll know that. Even when we make it our goal to keep things the same”—Edgar nodded to her kapp—“life has a way of making changes for us. Our decisions and desires only go so far. Remember that.”