Beside Still Waters (4 page)

Not only did her parents object about her voicing her complaints, now she was forced to keep the news inside. How could she look into Aaron's face and not burst into tears, realizing their date may never happen? How could she not watch Aaron work among the other men and wonder if she'd soon be losing what she wanted most? A life here. With him.

CHAPTER TWO

Aaron Zook placed Mr. Sommer's red tool box next to a line of others and then moved toward the long tables, picnic basket in hand.

"Did yer wife make you a lunch?" Jed King ran his hand over his new beard that was still coming in in patches. Married just a few months, the beard wasn't the only thing noticeable about his new status. The twinkle in his friend's eyes and his stomach that was already starting to round due to Lilia's good cooking were also evident.

Aaron looked to the basket in his hand. "No wife yet." He shrugged. "But it smells good." Aaron took in a deep breath, appreciating the scent of moist summer grass after the rain, cut logs, and his ma's cinnamon rolls carrying on the wind from the nearest table.

"Did ye hear John Stoltzfus say they're hiring o'er the factory? Good wages. I'm thinking of applying."

Aaron's chest felt tight, as if one of those thick ropes they were using to heave beams was cinched around it. He hoped he hadn't looked too eager, running up to the Sommers's buggy like that. It was the best way he could think of to dismiss himself from talking to Mr. Stotlzfus and the other guys gathering at the worksite. He'd witnessed his father's work at the factory. The pay wasn't good, considering the long hours and the slow buggy ride there and back. Then there were the chores around the farm every night. Animals to feed, crops to tend to, fences to mend. Aaron had done his part around the farm, but he knew once one started working in the factory it was hard to leave. Besides, he had his own place he was homesteading in preparation of a wife and family. He just hoped the rumors he was hearing about Marianna's folks wanting to move out of their community weren't true.

Nearing the long tables Aaron placed the Sommers's basket among the others, then he glanced over to where Marianna was approaching with her parents. From the time she was eleven and complimented him on a picture he'd drawn of a meadow-lark during recess, he'd known she was the woman he wanted to marry. Not only because she liked his artwork, but mostly because she was as serious about their Amish lifestyle as he was. Many, like her friend Rebecca, had gone out to explore the world. But not Marianna. She lived her life as if she'd already made a commitment to the church.

He liked that.

He looked up and watched as she approached. Instead of looking toward their neighbors gathering, she stared at the ground in front of her as she walked. Her shoulders slumped more than usual. Her steps were slow.

His mother said that even when Marianna was a child she had sad eyes. Aaron had to agree. Everyone knew about the accident. It was a story told often, or at least referred to. "Don't be falling asleep on the trip down to Jed's," his mother had mentioned to him more than once. "You know what happened . . ."

In a strange way Aaron liked that about Marianna too. Well, not that she was sad, or that that sadness framed her life. Rather, that on some days—most days when they were together—he could make her smile. It gave him a sense of accomplishment. Made him think that if he could achieve that, well, the rest of his dreams were in reach, too.

Marianna took a deep breath and the pounding of the hammers on the barn's frame matched the rhythm to the words thumping in her skull:
Montana. Montana. Montana.
She wiped her brow and turned her attention to the small gathering of toddlers playing in a large sandbox. Small bare feet wiggled in sand still damp from the morning rain.

She sat on the grass by the sandbox, making sure everyone played together nicely while their mothers prepared lunch and their fathers worked. Already the shell of the barn was up, and she had no doubt that by tonight a metal roof would grace the top, reflecting the evening light.

"Do not pour sand on your brother's head," she said to two-year-old Helen Ropp. Helen was one of the neighbor children she watched every afternoon. Helen's lip quivered as it always did when she was reprimanded, even though Marianna had used a gentle tone.

As the second oldest of five children—not counting her sisters gone from them—tending to the little ones was a task Marianna did well. She couldn't remember a time when she wasn't diapering, comforting, scolding.

"Tell me again why you can't say what's bothering you?" Aaron hunkered down next to her, removed his straw hat, and wiped his brow with a red handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. He stretched his arms to his little cousin, and Elijah scurried into his embrace.

More than anything Marianna wanted to turn, to glance over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching. It was bold for Aaron to approach with so many neighbors around. No doubt seeing him next to her would start all types of rumors.

"Who said anything was wrong?" She plucked a blade of green grass and twirled it between her fingers, trying to act natural. Trying not to let any onlookers witness how much Aaron's nearness unnerved her.

"I saw it when I went to your buggy. You'd been crying. Either that or you were about to start."

He knelt next to her, tossing a yellow ball back into the sand box, much to Elijah's delight. Light-haired Elijah squirmed from Aaron's arms, chasing the ball.

"Just a disagreement with Dat. He—" She dared to glance to Aaron out of the corner of her eye. "He has a strong will and when his mind is set on something, no one can change it."

"Does it have to do with moving? You're not leaving are you, Marianna?"

Her head jerked his direction, and her eyes studied his. She opened her mouth and then closed it. What could she say? If she answered truthfully she'd be disobeying her father. And she couldn't lie.

"Don't answer that. I can see it
is
the problem."

"But how did you know?"

"Yer Uncle Ike gave me a ride to town the other day. He was talking about Montana as if God placed a bit of heaven on earth." Aaron glanced behind him, eyeing the men lining up for lunch. "There are some folks around here that don't like that talk."

Marianna looked around and noticed many eyes on them. Aaron's behavior—the fact that he'd approached her and was spending time with her—was no doubt noted by many.

"Yes, speaking of talking, I don't think that's why yer here. Don't the Yoders have a barn that needs to rise?" She forced a laugh. "You don't want to neglect your duties, do you? Go get yerself a plate. Maybe we can talk on Sunday night yet. You'll be at the singing, won't you?" It was Tuesday, and her mind made a mental countdown of the days until then.

"
Ja,
and I'll be at church, too. Suppose I'll see you both places." He offered a quick wave to the children, then moved a few steps to the lunch line. It was only as he paused and turned back that Marianna realized she'd been watching him go. He noticed, too.

"Oh, and Marianna?"

"Ja?"
She placed a hand to her warming cheek.

"Your secret is safe with me. Although if I have any say, you'll be staying right where you are."

"By this sandbox?" She stood and straightened her skirt, running her hands down the thick fabric.

He laughed, and her heartbeat doubled at the sound of it. The sun brightened, the day warmed.

"No, you don't have to stay there." Aaron pointed to the ground beneath her lace-up black leather shoes. Then he swept his hands, motioning to the land, the sky, the community of people beyond them, and the men lining up for food. "You have to stay
here.
Don't you dare go anywhere,
ja?
"

She laughed as he hurried forward. The men always went first, eating quickly before they went back to work. The women and children would be next. Filling their plates and then sitting in collective groups on picnic blankets, spreading out across the yard. The voices of women talking and children playing rose in volume as the men neared, as if the groups were trying to outdo each other.

The men strode toward the food line with smiles and laughter, happy the work had gone well. The small ones noted the gathering of men, assembled and quieting for prayer. And the children, too, bowed their heads.

"Vella Still Halta,"
the bishop said loud enough for all to hear.
Let's be still for prayer.
Marianna bowed her head and prayed a silent prayer for the meal, as was tradition.

When an appropriate amount of time passed, Marianna turned to the children. "Helen, Ellie." She called each one by name. "Brush yourself off. We're going to be eating soon, are you hungry?"

"Ja!"
Ellie clapped her hands and then brushed them together to wipe off the sand. Helen did the same, and the other little ones got the idea that play was over.

Their voices chimed together like little birds squawking. "Eat?"

Just as the adults had worked hard, the children too had been busy—hard at work with their play. Creating fields in the sandbox, using sticks as teams of horses making rows. Some of the little girls had also made flower gardens, plucking dandelions from the grass and standing the yellow flowers up in their own little plot of sand.

Watching them, Marianna was reminded of when she was their age and her favorite thing to play had been horse and buggy. She and Levi had done so often. Sometimes they used rocks and sticks. Other times they were the horses. And once . . . Marianna bit her lip. She'd been the buggy and her brother had been the semi truck.

At the time she'd thought it was her scream, as Levi tackled her to the ground, that had upset her mother. But as she'd grown older, she realized it was the game itself that had caused so much pain. Or rather, it had resurrected a pain that had been there for quite some time. That was the last time she'd played horse and buggy. Her mother's sobs had not calmed the rest of that day, and Marianna never wanted to risk that again.

"Good children. Are you hungry? Would you like some bread and peanut butter? Maybe some cookies, too?"

Small heads bobbled and smiles brightened faces.

Marianna lined up the toddlers, preparing to take them to their mothers, when she spotted Mem serving up large pieces of pie. Her mother's smile lit her face as she handed a plate to Aaron. His smile mirrored Mem's, and then he turned, both of their gazes fixing on Marianna. She waved, not knowing what else to do, and then looked away. She again focused on the small ones, making sure they still followed. And as the bright sun warmed her kapp, a new hope sprang up in her heart. Her mother wouldn't allow them to leave when Aaron's interest was so evident. The goal of every Amish mother was to find a good husband for her daughters. Mem wouldn't risk leaving now, would she? Marianna glanced back again and noticed Mrs. Zook talking to her mother.

Marianna quickened her pace, urging the little ones to follow, knowing the only proper thing to do was find a way to talk to the older woman before the day's end. Marianna didn't know Mrs. Zook well. They'd exchanged small talk at church and socials, but perhaps she should make an attempt to get to know Aaron's family better.

Ten minutes later the children were under the care of their mothers, and she held Ellie's hand as she joined the women who were lining up for lunch. The grass was soft under her footsteps as she neared Mrs. Zook. Marianna approached from behind. Mrs. Zook was huddled with a few other older women, and their eyes were fixed at a long table where the men were sitting.

"Do you wonder why he's returned?" The gray-haired woman from a neighboring community studied the women around her. "Some say he's been spending too much time with the Englisch and they're corrupting his ways."

Others joined in. "My husband says they saw him reading an English Bible in his buggy. Is he trying to be smart or something? Thinking he knows more than the bishop?"

"Maybe Ike has come for a wife, but I don't think it's likely."

Marianna's hand covered her mouth—they were talking about her uncle! She took a step back, preparing to walk away, but not before she heard Mrs. Zook's response.