Plain Peace (A Daughters of the Promise Novel) (4 page)

Anna remembered years ago when Kade came into their lives with his young autistic son, Tyler. He’d married Sadie, who was a widow, and they’d gone on to have a daughter, Marie. Anna could also recall how unhappy her grandfather had been about the arrangement in the beginning. He’d been sure that Kade would never be able to make the switch from wealthy
Englisch
man to a baptized member of their community.

But
Daadi
had come around. He wasn’t as rigid as some believed. Anna thought again about Rubin’s and Ben’s cutting remarks. It shook her to think they blamed her grandfather for Lizzie Miller’s death.
Ridiculous
. She was lost in her thoughts when someone knocked at the door.

Daadi
groaned. “Who would be calling at the supper hour?” He shook his head, and Anna’s grandmother got up quickly from the table and headed toward the living room.

Marianne glared at Hector and spoke in a whisper. “What are you doing here?” She took the small box from his hands, shaking her head. “This is
not
our agreed upon time.” She paused, blowing out a breath of frustration. “And what are you doing here on a Saturday anyway?”

“I couldn’t help it, Mrs. Byler. I had tons of deliveries today, and I’m running behind schedule.” Hector shrugged, his dark hair wet with sweat, his brown eyes begging for forgiveness. “And this package was marked for Saturday delivery.” He gave a quick wave before running down the porch steps and back to his UPS truck.

She closed the door, hurried to her room, and stashed the box under the bed for now.
What was Hector thinking?
That young man knew to only come between noon and three on weekdays, when Isaac was working in the fields and Anna was out delivering bread, jams, and noodles to the bakeries or running other errands.

As Marianne crossed through the living room toward the kitchen, she took a deep breath, then swallowed hard when she saw her husband standing at the window with the shade pulled out slightly, peering outside.

“What is UPS doing here?” Isaac glanced at Marianne before he looked back out the window. Marianne didn’t want to lie, but she certainly couldn’t tell her husband the truth. He turned to face her, his eyebrows drawn. “Did we get a gift?”

Not exactly
. “I . . . uh . . . ordered something.” Marianne raised her chin and clasped her hands in front of her.

Isaac walked closer. “What?”

Marianne swallowed hard again. “It’s . . . it’s a surprise.” She squared her shoulders and tried to stand taller. Her husband’s shoulders had slumped over the years, but he still towered over her, and his hazel eyes were searching hers. She made herself meet his gaze.

“Maybe your birthday present,
Daadi
,” Anna said from the doorway into the kitchen.

Marianne didn’t breathe for a few seconds, knowing she’d lie if she had to. She didn’t feel good about that, but if Isaac knew the truth . . .

“My birthday isn’t until October.” Isaac frowned before crossing over to his rocking chair. Marianne’s pulse slowly returned to normal as she made her way back to the kitchen to help Anna clean up.

“So, what’s in the box?” Anna whispered as she filled the sink with warm water. “It
is
a bit early for a birthday present for
Daadi
.”

Marianne planned to have another chat with Hector the next time she saw him. This incident was putting her in a terrible situation. “A surprise.” She took a deep breath, hoping for a smooth transition to a new subject. “How is Emma’s
mudder
? I heard Sarah had been down with a cold.”

“She seemed okay.” Anna handed Marianne a stack of dirty dishes, and thankfully the conversation didn’t return to the UPS delivery.

When they were done in the kitchen, they joined Isaac for devotions, then Anna excused herself.

“
Mei maedel
seemed quiet.” Isaac closed the Bible, eased off his reading glasses, and rubbed his eyes for a few seconds. “Did she say anything to you about a problem?”

Marianne had noticed this too, but she’d been so preoccupied with Hector’s mistake that she hadn’t questioned the girl. “She didn’t say that anything was wrong.” She stood up and waited for Isaac. He put his glasses on the coffee table, and they both made their way to their downstairs bedroom. She waited until he was in the bathtub before she retrieved the package from underneath the bed.

She peeked out of the bedroom door and looked right and left. Once she was sure Anna was still upstairs, she carried the package and a lantern to the basement door beneath the stairs and tiptoed down the narrow steps. As much as she wanted to open the package now, it was too risky. She scurried to the closet in the corner, eased the door open, and placed the box on one of the shelves.

The spacious closet had once served as a storage area for brooms, cleaning supplies, and the like, but they had added on to
the house, and now there was sufficient room on the first floor for stowing those things. Rarely did anyone but Marianne go into the basement these days. Isaac’s knees prevented him from going down the steep steps, and Anna had no need to be down there since they’d added a large pantry off the kitchen for storing canned goods.

Marianne breathed a sigh of relief when she crawled into bed. Isaac was still in the bathroom, and she hadn’t been caught.

Jacob set the lantern on the nightstand by the bed, then tucked Abe in after they said their prayers. His youngest brother had been sleeping in one of the twin beds in Jacob’s room since they’d moved in a couple of weeks ago.

Back home, Abe had shared a room with Eli. But Abe had frequent nightmares, and tending to him had left Eli exhausted all the time. Jacob had offered to let Abe sleep in his room for a while so that Eli could get a restful night’s sleep. Jacob wasn’t sleeping well anyway, and as the oldest, he felt like he should take care of Abe. He was trying to set a good example for his siblings, so they could try to get back to some form of normal. His father had just checked out of life, and Jacob knew why, even though he didn’t agree with his father’s way of handling things. Unfortunately, that left Jacob in charge, trying to make sense out of everything.

“Do you like it here?” Abe said as Jacob climbed in bed. The boy spoke in a whisper, almost as if he was afraid to ask the question.

Jacob fluffed his pillow and crossed his ankles beneath the light blanket, thankful for the breeze blowing in through the open
window. “
Ya
, I do. It’s a
gut
move for us, Abe.” He snubbed out the lantern but stayed sitting up, locking his hands behind his head. “You’ll think so too, once you make some new friends.”

As the wind stirred the tree branches outside the window, shadows from the leaves danced across the ceiling, and Jacob leaned his head back and focused on the rhythmic movement while remembering their life back in Ohio. He could feel Abe’s pain, but he worked hard these days to hide his emotions in front of his family.

“Do you think Leah can see us?” Abe was still whispering.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Jacob rubbed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come. “But I’m sure she’s having fun in heaven.” He paused as he eased himself down and pulled the sheet to his chest. “And I know she’d want you to make lots of friends and not to worry about her.”

He closed his eyes and pictured Leah’s face—her soft blue eyes, her dainty features, and the way tendrils of hair, pale as a field of grain, often escaped her
kapp
. Leah had lit up any room she was in, and everyone had loved her.

Jacob fought the tears building in his eyes. Each night when darkness fell across the room, it encircled his heart as well, the thoughts and memories overwhelming him. It was during these times that he allowed himself to feel the pain.

Cora crawled into bed beside her husband and wondered if he’d ever touch her again. John’s head was buried in a book, his way of avoiding her and conversation. As she rubbed lotion on her hands and arms, she worried how long her husband was going to punish
himself for Leah’s death. It had been over a year now, and none of them had really recovered. In fact, the first-year anniversary in May had seemed to make things worse, especially for John.

But life had to go on. Even Jacob was making strides by attending the volleyball game today, and her oldest son constantly encouraged the other
kinner
to make new friends. But Cora knew that Jacob was hurting as much as all of them.

She took a deep breath, dreading another confrontation with her husband, yet so tired from trying to be both parents. “Eli seems very bitter about the move,” she said as she placed the lotion on her nightstand.

John didn’t look up from his book. “He will adjust.”

Cora bit her lip. If she pushed, this conversation could become a full-blown argument. But God didn’t seem to be hearing her prayers these days, so she at least needed her husband to show some understanding. “You have to talk to him, John. Jacob does his best with both the younger boys, but they need their father. You can’t keep . . .” She trailed off when John snapped the book closed, then quickly snubbed out the lantern.

“Another long day. I’m going to sleep.” He lay back down and turned on his side, his back to her.

As she sat in the darkness, a part of her wanted to reach over and shove him, smack him on the back . . . something . . . to snap him out of this depression he was in. Instead, she eased into the covers, snuggled up against him, and draped one arm across his waist. When he tensed up, she moved over and put some distance between them. Hurt and anger wrapped around her so tightly she almost couldn’t breathe. Didn’t her husband understand that Leah’s passing was hard on all of them? How could he just detach
himself from life like this? He wouldn’t have allowed another member of the family to behave like this if the circumstances of the accident were different.

Cora had told him repeatedly that he was not responsible for their daughter’s death. “This was God’s will,” she’d told him many times. “As awful as it is, we must go on.”

But John couldn’t seem to get past it. She’d hoped he would be better, a bit back to his old self, once they’d distanced themselves from Middlefield. Leaving family and friends behind had been difficult, but staying had been impossible. The memory of Leah dying in front of all of them on their own farm was too much to bear, especially as spring neared and the prospect of plowing loomed.

The Zooks had agreed to plow and plant before leaving this farm—a true blessing. None of them, John especially, wanted to go anywhere near a plow this year.

Cora pulled her knees to her chest beneath the sheet, tucked her head, and cried the way she did most nights, her body trembling, her heart broken.
Please roll over and hold me, John. Comfort me
.

It took all of her daytime strength to be strong for her grieving children, but shouldn’t she be able to rely on her husband for comfort? He was the man of the household, but sometimes she could barely stand to be in the same bed with him. And that was confusing.

In her mind she knew her husband wasn’t responsible for Leah’s death. It was God’s will to take their eldest daughter home at the tender age of twenty. But when the lights were out, when John was cold and distant, and when her own grief overwhelmed her . . . it
was
John she blamed.