Beside Still Waters (17 page)

The brightness in Ben's eyes faded. "Yes, well, I better get to your things. Annie from the store has threatened me within inches of my life if I don't bring you folks around for breakfast." His eyes held Marianna's for a few seconds, but instead of his humored gaze from a moment before, his look was filled with curiosity, with questions.

Marianna looked away, not sure of her answers.

Ben couldn't help but glance at the Amish woman in his rearview mirror. His passenger's eyes were on the mountains, the trees, the lakes . . . which gave him time to eye her on the straight stretches.

He'd known Ike for six months, and the man seemed to break the mold as far as Amish men went. He often showed up at their Monday night prayer meetings, and the one thing Ike had repeatedly asked prayer for was now happening. Ike had prayed diligently for his brother's family to leave Indiana and come to Montana. He'd said they needed healing from pain in their past. He'd said they needed truth.

Ben didn't know what they'd faced—Ike hadn't gone into details—but it had to be hard. His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, and he swallowed down a lump of emotion as big as a chicken egg. He knew about pain. Knew about running. Maybe that's why he'd been so drawn to these folks when he first heard about them. And why he wanted to do what he could to help.

He could see loss in their gazes. Abe and his wife seemed older than their years, but it was the young woman who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was petite, slim. Even with her Amish clothes and no makeup she was beautiful.

Ben smiled to himself, remembering her climbing into the luggage compartment determined to find her missing box. The baggage handler had been frustrated, but Ben had been enamored—so feisty for such a small package.

"Ben here is a safe driver," Ike said from the passenger's seat, turning half way to look at his brother in the back. "He's not Amish, but might as well be. He's always helping us out. Goes out of his way to lend a hand, and is faithful to God too."

Ben scoffed. "Now, I think Ike here is hoping I'll give him a discount on this trip because of all those good words." He smiled. "I like helping, that's all. Just trying to love others like God did."

"Different than our Englisch neighbors in Indiana."

Ben could feel Ike's brother Abe studying him as he spoke.

"Not that there weren't good Englischers back East, but the ones that seemed to interact with our people the most were the ones who tried to lure our young ones away—to tempt them from the right path."

Pain tinged the man's words. Had a family member been "lured away." If so it made sense why they'd come to Montana for healing—and to protect their other children from such temptation. Ben glanced at Marianna again, who sat silent, listening. She didn't seem like the type prone to wander. Then again it was hard to see into another's heart.

"If anything, I hope to encourage people into a closer relationship with God. In fact, there's a Monday night prayer meeting and Tuesday morning Bible study if you're interested."

"No—" The word spouted from the older woman's lips. "But thank ye."

Ben nodded, and Ike glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Ike had warned him that Amish from back East liked to keep to themselves. He'd had said to take it slow and just get to know them as friends first. He supposed he'd already failed at that.

Ben turned on his turn signal and passed a small sedan going far less than the speed limit. As he passed, he realized a woman in the passenger's seat was leaning out and taking photos of cows grazing in a field.
Tourist.

Ben told himself to be patient with Ike's family, but it was hard. His heart was so full of thankfulness to God for delivering him from the pain of his past . . . he wanted to share that hope. That joy.

Especially with Marianna.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The drive took them on a small two-lane road with mountains rising on both sides. Pine and birch trees lined the roads, and they saw at least a dozen deer as they drove. Uncle Ike had pointed out the small town of Eureka, which looked as if it hadn't changed much over the years. Brick buildings with tall, wooden facades lined the road. A hand-painted sign pointed to the museum. A sandwich board on the sidewalk announced the best burgers in town.

Then, just when Marianna thought they were getting close to their new community, the road turned again, taking them away from town and toward the most beautiful lake she'd ever seen.

"Ben, can you tell them about the lake? Where it got its name?" Uncle Ike directed.

Ben had been quiet almost the whole ride. While for some drivers that was typical, it seemed out of character for him.

Marianna had a feeling the way she'd responded to him had something to do with it. Regret over her rudeness throbbed in her temples, and one of her grandmother's favorite sayings came to mind:
"A person who thinks too little, talks too much."
Lately she'd gotten into the habit of speaking before thinking, and it was something she needed to mend. After all, it wasn't Ben's fault she didn't want to be here. She should be thankful he found a home for her family. He seemed to be a good driver and someone who'd be there to help her parents after she left.

"Lake Koocanusa was named by using the first three letters of the Kootenai River, Canada and the USA." He pointed. "A half-hour or so away is the Libby Dam. I think the lake's somewhere around ninety miles long."

"Ninety?" David scratched his head. "That's a lot. I bet there's a lot of fish in there. Thousands."

"Yes, I guess so. I'll have to take you guys down there sometime."

Uncle Ike nodded, but Marianna noticed her parents exchanging glances. They didn't make it common practice to let their children socialize with the Englisch. No matter how nice someone seemed, her parents knew all too well that habits and beliefs had a way of rubbing off. Once the boys reached sixteen—when they were better able to make smart decisions—they would be able to venture into the world, but Marianna knew until then the only fishing they'd do was with Uncle Ike, her father, or another Amish man.

The road turned, and Marianna sucked in a breath as they crossed over the lake on a long bridge that seemed to float in the sky over the water. She pressed her forehead against the van's glass window and peered into the sparkling blue water below. She'd never seen anything like it.

At least I'll have something to write home about. The mountains. The lakes.
She wished she could write about Ben, especially the tender way he'd tried to console Ellie, not understanding she didn't speak English. That interaction alone told Marianna he hadn't been driving for the Amish very long. The drivers back home understood Pennsylvania Dutch, even if they didn't speak it well. Yet, to mention Ben to her friends would give them the wrong impression. That's the last thing she needed—for word to get out that she'd gone fancy on an Englisch driver.

Across the bridge they turned to the right, following a narrow, winding mountain road. Marianna was certain they would never reach this mysterious community—and then she spotted one house, and then two. More houses lined the road, and then an Englisch church. Not too much farther they came to an intersection with numerous buildings.

"See that small log cabin on the corner? That's the school you'll attend." Uncle Ike pointed for the boys. They stared at the small building, the muddy playground, and the simple metal playground equipment. Marianna pictured rows of desks and students hard at work on their studies.

"And just on the other side of that house is the store."

West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery,
the sign read. It, too, was a log cabin. At the end of the muddy parking lot was a wooden-planked walkway, just like the ones she'd read about in Wild West books.

Ben parked the van in front of the store, and Uncle Ike jumped out of the front seat, opening the side door. David spilled out first, followed by the other boys who scanned the area as if they'd been plopped down in the middle of an adventure.

"Look at that!" Charlie ran up to a tall log post near the store. On it were arrows pointing toward various locations and the distance written on them.

"'North Pole 2,750 miles, South Pole 9,500 miles, Honolulu Hawaii 3,912 miles, Canada 2 miles.'" David grinned.

"I had no idea we were that close to Canada." Marianna rubbed her sticky eyes, still hoping to wash her face. As hungry as she was, she longed even more for a bath and change of clothes. She entered the store with tentative steps. Would her family get the same curious looks here as on the train and at the station?

An older gentleman stood behind a simple wooden counter to the left of the door, helping a customer. Beyond him were eight or ten rows of shelves with grocery items. Ike walked past those and turned right. There was an open kitchen and beyond that a large dining area. A couple tables had customers, but they barely glanced up when her family entered. A wood stove welcomed them into the dining area. Since the day had warmed up, it sat unused.

A woman with long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail bustled out of the kitchen. A yellow scarf was tied over her hair, and she wore a white apron. Laugh lines around the woman's eyes gave away her age. She approached Mem arms wide.

"There you are. I was wondering what took Ben so long. It's good he's a safe driver, but sometimes I want to tell him to put the pedal to the metal, especially when there's food waiting." The woman swept Mem into a hug and then reached over and shook Dat's hand. After a firm handshake, she turned to Marianna, swaggering forward like a cowgirl who'd just gotten off her horse.

"Your uncle has told me a lot about you." She gave Marianna a quick hug. "He says you're a real hard worker. I'd like to talk to you sometime, but don't want to overwhelm you with too much too soon." The woman's chuckle split the air. "My friends tell me I can be overwhelming."

"You?" Ben approached and patted her back. She was old enough to be his mother, but acted as sprightly as if they were peers.

Ben sniffed the air. "What do you have cooking up?"

"Breakfast casserole and homemade cinnamon rolls. I hope everyone will like it."

Marianna's stomach rumbled, and suddenly it didn't matter that she hadn't washed her face yet.

"Haven't had any of your cooking that I didn't like yet." Uncle Ike motioned to the dining area. "C'mon, don't be shy. Your first meal will be a free one. Annie does that so you'll get hooked on her cooking. It's trickery, I tell you."

The little kids sat at a long table, and Ben sat with them. Pushing his silverware to the side, he set to work on making a paper airplane out of his napkin. Marianna couldn't help but watch and smile.

Marianna sat with her parents and Uncle Ike. She was usually the one who sat with the kids, helping them, and making sure they minded their manners, but she didn't want anyone—Ben especially—to get the wrong idea.

When Annie hurried to the kitchen to begin dishing up the food, Mem leaned forward, clearing her throat. "Are all the Englisch this friendly around here?" Her eyes widened. "I'm not sure what to think. A free meal? It's kind but . . ."

Marianna knew how her mother's mind worked. A good deed done to her would require one in return.

"Not all. The women folk are pretty much safe, but there are some loggers that would hike a woman over their shoulders and carry her into the woods if they thought they could get away with it." Uncle Ike shuddered.

"Honestly?" Her mother placed a hand over her heart.

Laughter burst from Uncle Ike's lips. "No, ma'am, they're as gentle as they come. Although I can't say as much about a few of the rich Californians who've made their way up here and bought up lots of land. Some of them can be sharp-tongued and demanding at times. Think the whole community needs to bow to them."

The food was placed before them and the room grew quiet. Marianna saw her father's head drop, and she knew it was time for silent prayer. She folded her hands, closed her eyes, and bowed her head, knowing the others in her family were doing the same, even the little ones.