Love Still Stands (43 page)

“It’s about time.” She backed away from the door. “Come on in. It’s cold out there
and you’re letting the heat out.”

Heaving a quick breath, he did as he was told.

“Leah’s upstairs putting Jebediah down for a nap.” She motioned toward the sofa as
she trotted toward a playpen. She picked up a squalling baby and tucked her on her
hip. The baby’s cries subsided. “Have a seat. I’ll get her.”

“How is she?” He didn’t recognize his own voice. It sounded so tentative, so unsure.
He cleared his throat. “Tell me how she is first.”

Mattie wrinkled her nose as if thinking hard. The baby babbled something and Mattie
patted her back absently. With her blue eyes and dark hair, her looks made her the
most striking of the three sisters, but she never stood out, choosing to be the most
self-effacing as well. She had an even keel that Luke found refreshing. “She has good
days and bad days. I know she misses you something awful.”

He tried not to jump on the words. “Me or the boys?”

“Of course she misses the boys, but she pines for you.”

“Pines for me.” He repeated the words. They sounded strange spoken aloud. He couldn’t
imagine Leah saying them. “Did she say so?”

“Not in so many words, but she talks about you all the time.”

“She does?”

“You sound so surprised.” The baby burped. Mattie grabbed a dishtowel from the coffee
table and wiped spit-up from the baby’s chin and on her own dress. Her placid expression
didn’t change. “Leah thinks of no one else but you and the children.”

“She left me. She left us.” The simple truth.

“Only because she’s ashamed, and she’s sure she’s failed you as a fraa. She doesn’t
think you’ll forgive her for that.”

He had forgiven her, hadn’t he? Or he would as soon as she made it right and came
home. “I—”

Mattie held up a hand. “Tell her. Not me.”

She ran up the stairs with a step so light she didn’t make a sound. Luke sat on the
edge of the sofa, hands on his knees, gripping so tight his fingers hurt. He tried
to loosen them, but to no avail. He practiced breathing. His chest hurt. His lips
were cracked and dry. He licked them and they burned. He studied the room, trying
to find something to occupy his mind besides the thoughts that galloped about, worrying
him, agitating him, shaming him. He’d prayed and now he had to accept God’s will for
himself and for his family. Come what may. He took a steadying breath and let it out.
Come what may.
Gott?

Minutes ticked by. Would she not come down and face him? He’d traveled all this way.
Nausea made his stomach flip over. He stood and went to the fireplace to warm his
hands. Perspiration beaded on his forehead and tickled as it ran down his temple.
He wiped it away with the back of his hand. How could he be warm and cold at the same
time?

“Luke.”

He forced himself to turn from the hearth and face her. She stood at the bottom of
the staircase, her face wan, brown eyes huge in her thin face. She’d lost weight,
making the slight swell of her belly all the more noticeable. For once, she didn’t
look tired. Only sad and tentative and uncertain and angry and rebellious, all jumbled
into a stew of emotion that overwhelmed Luke.

He wanted to take a step back, but he found himself pinned against the fireplace,
flames leaping hot behind him, her emotions searing in front of him. The words of
his speech flew from his head, leaving a curious blank space like all memory had been
wiped away. Everything he’d learned in school, everything Emma had said to him in
her living room, everything he knew to be true. He drew a long, painful breath. “Leah.”

She took two tentative steps so that she stood on the edge of the large braided rug
that covered most of the wooden floor. She halted as if an invisible barrier kept
her from crossing over and reaching him. “You came.”

“Happy Christmas.”

“Did you come all this way to wish me a happy day?”

“Nee.”

She twisted her fingers together in front of her. Color had crept into her cheeks.
“I got your letters.”

“I received yours.”

“The drawings were nice. I hung them on the wall in my room—the room I sleep in.”
She looked around, tilted her head as if to see behind him. “Where are the boys?”

“At home with Bethel.”

The light in her face banked. “Do you want some kaffi or hot tea? I think we have
some hot tea.”

He couldn’t take this. “I’d like to see Jebediah and the twins.”

“They’re napping. You can see them at supper if you stay. For now, we could…”

“Talk?”

“Jah. Why did you come?”

“You’re my fraa.” And because he loved her and missed her and wanted her in his bed
at night and across from him at the table each morning at breakfast and each night
at supper. Because she was the mother of his children and his best friend. “You’re
my fraa.”

“Jah. But I haven’t…I’m not…I’m not a good fraa.”

Luke moved away from the fire and covered the space between them. He wanted to run.
He wanted to grab her and shake her and make her see. He wanted to kiss her.

He stopped within arm’s reach. “You are a good fraa.”

She shook her head. Tears glistened in her eyes, but they didn’t fall. “Don’t lie.
You have never lied. Don’t start now.”

Luke took off his hat and examined the brim. He tossed it on the rocking chair. He
didn’t have a clue. How did they bridge the cavernous gap that had grown between them
in the last few months, maybe even years without him realizing it? How could he have
not seen? How could he have not noticed her pain? She was the woman he’d vowed to
share the rest of his life with and he hadn’t even noticed her agony. She didn’t need
to make this right. He did. He opened his mouth. “I love you. That’s the truth. That’s
not a lie.”

Her head bowed and the tears begin to fall. Luke couldn’t stand it. Every tear ripped
away another piece of his heart. He couldn’t stand to see her so sad. He couldn’t
stand to see her so alone. He had done this to her by being absent in his own home.
He’d failed as a husband. He hadn’t taken care of her. He’d left her to fend for herself
in her despair. Remorse wrapped itself around his heart. He covered the space between
them in one long stride.

“Stop. Don’t.” He jerked her against his chest in a rough embrace. He could feel her
bones, knobby and sharp in her thinness and the swell of her belly. “I’ll do whatever
it takes to get you better. I’ll go with you to the doctor. We’ll figure it out. Everything
will be better.”

She sagged against him, tears coming in hot, ugly hiccupping sobs. He tightened his
hold. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

She lifted her tearstained face. He lowered his head and did what he’d come to do.
He kissed his fraa like a man reclaiming his life after a long, dark absence. She
didn’t resist. Her thin arms came up and encircled his neck. He picked her up and
hugged her to his chest tightly so she would understand. He would not let her go again.
He would find her whenever she went into those dark places where she felt alone and
sad and afraid. That’s what a husband did. He’d forgotten that for a time, but he
wouldn’t let it happen again. Never again.

She pulled away. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Forgive me?”

“Jah. Forgive me?”

“Jah.”

“We’ll see the doctor?”

“We’ll see the doctor.” He set her back on her feet and then put both hands on her
stomach. He hunched down until his forehead touched hers. “We’ll take care of this
baby as a family.”

Her hands smoothed his head with a touch so soft it felt like a feather brushing against
him. He swallowed shameful tears. Her hands moved to his cheeks and lifted his head.
“Let’s go home, then. I want the whole family to be together on New Year’s Day.”

Luke couldn’t wait for that New Year and its promise of a new beginning. “Let’s go
home, then.”

But first, he kissed her again.

Chapter 40

S
miling, Bethel lowered herself from the buggy, her mittens sticky and wet with half
melted snow. She waved her thanks to Ida, who returned the smile and waved back, blithely
unaware of Bethel’s frustration with her. Thanks to the older woman’s staid approach
to buggy driving, Bethel was too late to have a physical therapy session before group.
She would barely make it to the group session. It didn’t matter. Nothing would upset
Bethel today. Not since she’d listened to Luke’s voice recorded on the machine in
the phone shack. Leah had decided to come home. They would be home on New Year’s Eve.
They would start the New Year together. Luke and Leah and the entire family would
get that new start. Bethel turned to grab her crutches from the backseat. Her shoes
slipped and she wavered, arms flung wide, and managed to right herself. Freezing rain
mixed with snow overnight had made every exposed surface, from roads to sidewalks
to porch steps, dangerously slick. The temperature continued to drop, with more snow
in the forecast. Common sense dictated a slow pace, even if it tried her patience
all the way into tomorrow.

Hanging onto the buggy with one hand, she grabbed a crutch and stuck it under her
arm. Luke and Leah would get their new start, but what about her? What about Elijah?
Every time she thought of Elijah’s hand on her arm and his lips on her mouth, her
heart fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird. As much as she might want to find
her way back to another kiss, she knew it was best to avoid temptation. At least until
they figured out where they stood and where they were going. She should be thankful
for Ida. Without her, Bethel would be stuck at home, not here with her group for the
last time before the New Year.

She struggled against a brutal northern wind that flung flakes like icy darts in her
eyes and mouth where they melted against her warm skin. Her shoes slipped and slid
on the slick, ice-covered sidewalk. “See you in a few hours,” she called to Ida. The
wind whipped the words into the air while Bethel tugged a package in a plastic bag
from the backseat. “Take care on the icy roads.”

“I’ll be back in plenty of time.” Ida was off to enjoy a nice visit with Tobias’s
fraa and her sister visiting from Ohio. The Daugherty farm was closer to town and
Ida enjoyed using this outing as an excuse to make the rounds. Bethel would be lucky
if Silas’s sister remembered to return by lunchtime to pick her up. “Have a good time.”

Ida obviously didn’t understand what Bethel did on these trips to the rehab clinic.
Using her crutches to tap her way to the door, which caught in the wind and smacked
on the wall when she opened it, Bethel entered the building with a sigh of relief.
She unwound her doubled-up scarf from her head, removed her wool bonnet, and straightened
her kapp. Her fingers and toes ached and she couldn’t feel her nose. The warm, dry
air that whooshed from overhead vents seemed almost miraculous.

“If you’re worrying about missing your PT session, don’t.” Georgia looked up from
paperwork at the receptionist desk and favored Bethel with a smile. “Doctor Karen
is trying to get in from a trip to St. Joe. She called and said they’re shutting down
the highways. She’s trying to find a back road.”

Bethel considered this as she laid her package on an end table, propped her crutches
against a wall, and shimmied out of her coat. She then rearranged everything in order
to make the trek down the hall. “She might be better off staying where she is.”

“Can’t tell that woman a thing,” Georgia chuckled. “When she heard her chickedees
were making their way in, she became all the more determined.”

Relieved that she wouldn’t have to change clothes—heat or no heat, it was a chilly
prospect in this weather—Bethel headed toward the group session room. Most of the
chairs were still empty. Crystal grinned at her and waved while Mark tossed a
howdy
in her direction. She returned the greetings and settled into her chair, her present
for Elaine in a plain white box on her lap. She’d given the group a polite no to the
Christmas party planned by Doctor Jasmine, but she wanted to honor the custom of gift
giving. They drew names and kept it a secret so no one knew who was getting whom a
gift. In deference—Bethel suspected—to Bethel’s faith and customs, Doctor Jasmine
had refrained from calling it a Secret Santa gift exchange, although the others had
been less circumspect.

Bethel hoped her embroidered dresser scarf would be pleasing to Elaine. With the start
of the New Year, she might not get to come anymore. Leah would need her. The news
that her sister had agreed to return home filled her with relief every time she thought
of it. Tomorrow they’d all be together again as a family. Bethel wiggled in her chair.
She would miss seeing her group. Truth be told, with the exercise equipment, she probably
couldn’t justify coming here, especially with the cost. She still couldn’t walk unaided
and it seemed she might have to accept she never would. Doctor Karen refused to give
up hope, but Bethel saw the look on her face when she studied the charts after the
therapy sessions. This would be the thorn in her flesh. Like Paul. Her affliction.

As if on cue for that thought, Shawn rolled into the room, a package wrapped in bright
red paper and a gold bow perched on his lap. His grin stretched across his face. He’d
never mentioned his accident on Thanksgiving Day, but he still went out of his way
to cross her path at every turn. She nearly tripped over him some days. His practice
now was to tell her a joke every time he saw her because, he said, he liked to hear
her laugh.