Beside Still Waters (29 page)

As I wrote your dear mother, I saw your brother Levi in town yesterday. I hope and pray he will soon give himself up to what the bishop and the church want. He would be such an example to other youth who have turned their back on the ways they've been taught. As we all know, the spirit of obedience is much better than the spirit of I'll-do-as-I-please. I am concerned about his mother—your mother. Little children step on one's lap; tall ones tread on one's heart. I hope her heart is holding up.

Please write quickly and tell me if you can indeed come in the fall. The sooner the better in my opinion.

Aunt Ida

Marianna folded up the letter and returned it to the envelope, trying to imagine leaving in the fall. Could she do it? Could her heart handle returning and being that far from her family? She'd panicked when she'd returned home and didn't know where they were. However would she return to Indiana alone? Would it be like this every day, worried about Mem and the baby? Wondering how the children were getting along. Suddenly even December seemed too soon.

Just then something caught her eye. It was the English Bible, sitting on the window sill. She'd seen Dat reading it a few times, but every time she came around he put it away. Did he worry that she too would accuse him, just as Mem did, and remind him that reading the German Bible was the Amish way?

Marianna rose and picked up the Bible, surprised by the soft leather of its cover. They had an old German Bible, but she had never read it. Although she'd been taught how to read some German, it was a more difficult, older language than the Pennsylvania Dutch she'd learned to speak since childhood. She looked out the window, down the country lane, checking to see if her family was returning yet. When she saw that they weren't, she took the Bible and moved to the front porch, sitting on the top step, enjoying the warmth of the sun upon her.

Her hands ran over the cover, and she opened up the first page. She paused, noticing an inscription there.

To Mr. Sommer,

God's Word transformed my life, sir. I hope you don't find it too forward of me to give you this English Bible as a gift. No pay is required. I hope it helps with your sharing of the Word in your church services.

With respect,

Ben Stone

Marianna's hands quivered as she read Ben's name. She knew her father spent some time with him, mostly during deliveries at work, but it startled her that they had the type of relationship that Ben could give Dat this—and that he would accept it and read it.

Marianna turned it over in her hands, noticing a bookmarked area. She opened it and discovered it was marked on Psalm 144. Her eyes went first to a section her father had underlined.

"I will sing a new song to you, O God; on a ten-stringed lyre I will make praises to you."

Heat rose up her arms, then filled her chest. The sun seemed ten times brighter, and she felt hot and prickly all over. Her mind took her back to that moment months ago at the restaurant. She'd been plagued by that moment ever since. The music had moved her in ways she couldn't explain, and many times she was thankful she hadn't officially been baptized into the church. For if she had, she would have to submit to a confession and be disciplined like Viola. To listen to music, to enjoy it, to be moved by it simply wasn't allowed.

Something else bothered her too. It wasn't just the fact that she was caught being so intimate with Ben, but she was also bothered that her father had never brought the incident up again. He'd stopped using Ben as a driver on family outings, but he'd never talked about the episode.

She looked to the Bible again and reread the passage. The reference to the harp confused her. She'd grown up learning musical instruments were forbidden. To play an instrument was considered worldly. Her people believed when one person received attention for playing an instrument, it was contrary to the spirit of
Glassenheit,
humility. It also stirred up the emotions of the listeners—another thing that was not allowed.

Marianna had always thought the main emotion that would be stirred was one of jealousy. To see someone's talent might make you covet it and wish the talent were your own. But as she'd listened to Ben playing that night at the restaurant, jealousy wasn't the emotion that had stirred her. Desire perhaps. And even a little bit of awe and joy. The sound of the music had moved her, as if filling her soul and lifting her. It had warmed her. Challenged her. Focused her in ways she hadn't thought it could.

Marianna rose and pushed those thoughts from her mind, telling herself to stop thinking about that. About him. And as she did, a new emotion filled her. Anger.

She closed the Bible and stomped into the house, slamming the Bible back on the window sill. Suddenly she was mad at everything. Mad at Ben for making such beautiful music. Mad at him for buying the Bible for Dat. Mad at her father for not talking to her about what had happened and causing her to carry the guilt and shame on her own. Mad at the church for forbidding music, while at the same time mad she'd even questioned that they did.

Most of all she was angry that they'd come to Montana in the first place. Things were good in Indiana. Everything had order. She knew what to do and knew how others would respond. She knew what to expect. And she liked it that way.

Just an hour before, she questioned if she'd be able to leave after Christmas, but as her emotions turned she wondered why she'd stay.

She looked to Aunt Ida's letter again still sitting on the table.
"Please write quickly and tell me if you can indeed come in the fall. The sooner the better in my opinion."

As the frustrated anger grew and filled her, Marianna couldn't agree more. She needed to leave. And soon. This place wasn't doing her any good. If she left, she could spend time with Aaron. She could see his cabin, and they could spend time going on walks or drives, getting to know each other better. Then she could forget about Ben Stone. She could also keep her mind on the things she should. This world tugged at her, trying to pull her away from all she knew. To return
would
be the answer. To return meant safety, security, familiarity.

She grabbed up the letter and took it to her room, placing it on top of her dresser. Then she looked to the bed where her quilt was. She'd finished most of the hand-stitching and just had a little more to do.

She'd work hard and finish it, because she wanted to take it with her, and because she couldn't imagine staying any longer than was necessary.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Have you brought any more cookie recipes with you?" Edgar poked his head into the restaurant kitchen where Marianna worked.

Marianna put down the measuring cup, trying to remember if she'd counted off three or four cups. She decided it had only been three, then turned to him, forcing a smile.

"I did." She lifted an eyebrow and placed a hand on her hip.

"Really what kind?"

Marianna took a deep breath. "I won't tell you until you're ready to try it—it's a surprise."

"Surprise? You're gonna make me wait?" Edgar grumbled and then waved a hand in her direction. "See if I do any favors for you."

He acted as if he were mad as he stomped back to the front register, but she could make out the smile he was trying very hard to hide.

Marianna turned back to her recipe, hurrying to the refrigerator for eggs. She finished mixing the batch of peanut butter cookies and then stuck them into the oven. Annie had gone to Kalispell to get more supplies, and Marianna knew she would be back soon.

"Better get this place cleaned up." How had she managed to make such a mess? She scrubbed the whole kitchen and pulled out the first batch of cookies, sliding the cookie sheet onto the top of the cooling tray, just in case Edgar thought of peeking. She put another batch into the oven and then noticed the floors were the last thing that needed to be clean.

Picking up the floor mats, she took them outside to sweep them off. As she exited the door her shoulder bumped into someone who was opening the door to enter.

"I'm so sorry." Marianna took a step back, nearly dropping the mats. Ben stood there, his face only inches from hers.

"Am I in your way?" He hopped down from the porch and it was then she realized the back steps were gone. Somehow he'd managed to dismantle them while she'd been busy at work in the kitchen.

"No, I just had to sweep these off." She plopped the mats on the porch and stepped back inside for the broom. A twinge of excitement at seeing him shot up her elbows and she ignored it. He was just a guy—someone she could count on as a friend and nothing more.

Ben used his tape measure to measure the back porch. Then he walked over to a long piece of lumber, using a pencil to mark it off.

"Building new steps?" she asked, even though it was obvious he was.

"Yep. Annie was worried about Edgar going up and down the old ones. These steps will be wider, with a nice handrail. I told her I'd do it in exchange for some of your cookies. Those oatmeal ones are my favorite. I bought out all she had left that night after the concert."

"That's kind of you." Her broom brushed over the mat at half the speed she usually swept, and her eyes were fixed on Ben's. "I've been meaning to tell you how much I liked your music. It was very moving."

He glanced up at her and then his lips tipped up in a smile. "I could tell you liked it, and seeing that was even better than the cookies."

"Do you have any more concerts coming up?"

"Not unless you count Megan Carash's tenth birthday party. She requested Disney tunes." He chuckled, but Marianna just eyed him.

"Not familiar with those I suppose," he stated.

She laughed. "No, not really."

They worked side-by-side for a few minutes, and neither said a word. Then she opened her mouth, getting up the nerve to tell him something she'd been thinking about since she first heard him play. "It doesn't seem like you fit here. You're a good musician. Shouldn't you go someplace else where there are more people who can listen to your music? Then you could just do that, and you won't have to work making deliveries and building porches on the back of country stores."

"Is my music any less special if one person hears it?" Ben straightened and tucked his pencil behind his ear.

The question surprised her. "What?"

"I used to perform in large concerts with my high school band. Yes, I have to admit it's a good feeling when I played and would scan the large crowd and realized all those eyes were fixed on me. But there's just something different about playing in the restaurant—or smaller gatherings. It's not a crowd I'm playing for, but friends—old ones and ones I'd just met. And when I see their smiles, I really get to see them. I can also see the happiness in their eyes. It's not the roar of a crowd on their feet when I'm finished, but I can feel the pleasure of those I'm playing for. And in a strange way it gives me a glimpse of what God must think."

Marianna paused her sweeping and leaned forward against her broom. Being here, talking with Ben, the uneasiness of the last few months seemed to vaporize just like morning dew on mountain meadows. "What do you mean?"

"Well, He's God. And there are a lot of people in this world who think He's a pretty cool guy. There are people from your community who love Him in a quiet, reverent way. There are others who are more bold and vocal about their faith. But I have a notion what makes Him feel special isn't just the fact that all those people think He's great. But rather when you or I are praying, and thinking about Him or singing to Him or thanking Him for his mountains and trees, that He takes joy in the intimacy of the moment. It's that personal connection, I bet, that brightens His day."

Marianna felt both drawn to the words Ben was saying and uncomfortable about them. In all the years she'd gone to church and lived in her community, she'd never met someone who talked about God like He was right there, caring about the events of her day. She'd never thought about a God who would make a sunrise to please her for that moment. Or bring her a wiggling, active dog to make her smile.

She placed a hand to her throat and tried to imagine what the bishop would think of that. And, without warning, the face of another came to her mind. Levi. What would he think if he met Ben? Marianna was sure Levi would like him. She couldn't imagine her brother not being drawn to his outgoing personality and his smile. But what would Levi think to hear Ben talk about God like this? She knew when her brother left the community and refused to join the church, in his mind he was leaving God behind too. But did it have to be like that? Could you have one without the other? Ben seemed to prove one could.

The door creaked behind her, and Marianna was pulled back to the realization that she was supposed to be sweeping out the mats. She looked down at the broom in her hands realizing it had stopped quite a while ago.

"There is a beeper going off in the kitchen, and since I didn't put anything in the oven I supposed it's calling to you," Annie chirped.