Plain Peace Page 3

  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 t
hem? 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.

  3

  SUNDAY MORNING ANNA DIDN’T THINK WORSHIP would end soon enough. She stared straight ahead throughout the service without hearing much of what her grandfather or the other ministers had to say. Instead, she spent her time wondering how many people in the barn disliked her grandfather as much as Rubin and Ben did.

  Without moving her head, she glanced to her left toward Sarah Jane Miller. Did Sarah Jane really believe that Daadi was responsible for her stepmother’s death? Lizzie was sick for a long time, and Anna didn’t think that anything her grandfather had done would have made a difference one way or another. But apparently others didn’t feel the same way. Anna’s heart hurt to think members of their district thought so unkindly of her grandfather. He was too strict. That was true. But he was also a loving man trying to do what he believed was right in God’s eyes.

  Twice during the service she caught the new fellow, Jacob Hostetler, staring at her. She knew it was because of her display the day before after the volleyball game. Jacob probably thought she was childish, running off and crying like that. But Ben and Rubin had said cruel things, things Anna had a hard time shaking.

  She allowed herself a quick glance at Jacob. Their eyes met, and she thought she saw the hint of a smile. Why? Someone who looked like Jacob could have anyone he wanted in their district. Someone beautiful like Emma.

  Anna pulled her eyes away, but when she looked back at Jacob a few moments later, his gaze was still fixed on her, and this time he did smile. Her heart raced as she quickly looked away, not wanting to get her hopes up that someone like Jacob might be interested in her. Maybe he felt sorry for her, after hearing all the things that Ben and Rubin had said, then seeing her run off crying. That was it. Pity.

  She lifted her chin, pressed her lips together, and tried not to look his way. But as her grandfather concluded the service, her eyes drifted in Jacob’s direction. Sure enough, he smiled again. Anna felt her cheeks warming, and while she couldn’t help but question his intentions, she found herself conjuring up a plan.

  She waited until after the noon meal and cleanup before she approached Jacob. He was standing among a group of fellows, including Rubin and Ben. She avoided everyone’s eyes but Jacob’s. “Can I talk to you for a minute, please?” Anna swallowed hard as she wondered what they all must be thinking.

  Jacob grinned as he tipped back the rim of his hat. “Ya. Sure.”

  Anna turned, and without looking back, she walked around the corner of the barn. The Saunders had a small home, but they had an enormous barn where they could hold worship service. She could hear footsteps behind her but waited until she was clear of the crowd to turn around. Taking a deep breath, she knew this would be the boldest thing she’d ever done.

  “Hello,” she said softly, attempting a smile.

  “Wie bischt?”

  Anna swallowed hard as her heart thumped in her chest, but Jacob strode up to her with the confidence of a hundred men, his perfect lips curled up into a grin and his eyes twinkling. How could anyone look this good? And why in the world would he even consider accepting her proposal?

  “Would you like to take me to the singing tonight?” Anna blurted it out, then held her breath as she watched him rub his chin, frowning. Ach, nee . . . he’s going to turn me down. “I’m sorry. Never mind.” She shook her head, backed up, then turned around. She’d only taken a few steps when Jacob called her name. Biting her lip, she slowly turned.

  “Ya, I’d like to take you to the singing.” Jacob frowned again, and for someone who said one thing, he sure looked like he felt differently. “There’s just one problem.”

  Anna shook her head again, feeling ridiculous. “Nee, nee. It’s okay.”

  Jacob eased a step closer to her, and it took her a few moments to realize she was holding her breath. “The problem is that I don’t have my own buggy.” His face reddened as he looked at the ground, then back up at her. “We only brought one buggy from Middlefield. I’m hoping to have mei own soon, but right now, I have to check with my folks.”

  Anna let out the breath she was holding, unsure what to say. Maybe that’s just an excuse. She looked down, kicked at the grass with one foot, and shook her head. “It’s really okay, and—”

  “Wait. I’ll be right back.” He held up a finger. “Don’t go away.”

  Anna waited as he disappeared around the corner. She knew it was only a matter of time before Jacob became interested in Emma or one of the other girls in their district. But in the meantime, maybe they could help each other.

  She thought again about what Ben and Rubin had told Jacob—that she was undateable. She leaned against the barn, bent her knee, and propped one foot against the siding, knowing Jacob would come back and say he wasn’t able to use his parents’ buggy.

  Jacob spotted his father standing under an old oak tree on the north side of the Saunders’ house. He sighed. He’d rather seek permission from his mother, but she was nowhere in sight, and if he didn’t hurry, Anna might leave or change her mind. Jacob approached his father slowly. He’d been surprised that his father joined them for church service at the Saunders’. But he was glad too, though Daed hadn’t had much to say. He had missed his father. But here Daed was right now, and for the first time in over a year, Jacob was feeling almost cheerful.

  “Daed . . .” He stopped a few feet away.

  “Ya?” His father squinted in the midday sun, his eyes as dark as the circles beneath them, and Jacob nearly changed his mind about asking him anything. But the thought of spending time with Anna prodded him forward.

  “I . . . I was wondering if I could use the buggy tonight.” Jacob scratched his nose and avoided his father’s eyes.

  “Ya, I don’t see why not.”

  Jacob stared at his father. Don’t you even want to know what for? He knew his mother would be excited that he was doing something social again. His father, however, didn’t care what he did. What any of them did. “Danki.”

  He rushed back to where he’d left Anna standing on the other side of the barn, trying to leave his sadness behind. He relaxed when he saw that she’d waited for him. “It’s no problem. What time should I pick you up?”

  She stood taller and raised both eyebrows. “Uh . . . I guess four o’clock?”

  Jacob felt a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d gone out with a few girls back home, but none as beautiful as Anna. He was lookin
g forward to getting to know her better, and he hadn’t looked forward to anything in a long time. “Gut, gut. Just tell me where to pick you up, and I’ll be there.” He thought about her grandfather and what Rubin and Ben had said, and for just an instant he wondered if he should have declined her invitation. But then she smiled, and Jacob realized he was more than willing to face her scary grandfather if it meant spending time with her.

  “You know . . .” She stepped closer to him. “My grandfather isn’t an evil man like Ben and Rubin made him out to be.” She paused and took a deep breath, then grinned. “And he surely doesn’t lock me in my room.”

  Jacob had suspected Rubin and Ben were exaggerating about the bishop, but he still felt relief flood over him. “I didn’t believe what they were saying, and I’m sorry they upset you so much. Lots of bishops are strict, but they just want what’s best for the district.”

  “Ya!” She bounced up on her toes, and a beautiful smile filled her face. “Exactly. I’m so glad you understand that. I wish everyone around here did.” Frowning, she shook her head and went on. “Anyway, I appreciate you agreeing to take me to the singing. It . . . it isn’t like a date or anything. I just thought if some of the other guys here saw me going out with you, then they’d know I’m allowed, that my grandfather isn’t such a scary man.” She blushed as she glanced down at the ground. “Although . . .” She shrugged. “Maybe there’s another reason no one has asked me out.”

  Jacob opened his mouth to tell her that her grandfather was definitely the problem, that otherwise she would have been asked out dozens of times. But he said nothing, feeling like he’d been kicked in the gut. He’d thought maybe Anna was interested in him. It had never occurred to him that she might be using the new guy to let those in the district know she was allowed to date.

  “Four o’clock sounds great,” he finally said. He forced himself to smile, knowing this could be a mistake. Did she see through him? Could she tell that he felt on the verge of tears half the time? Or did she just not find him the least bit attractive? Either way, he knew he wasn’t a good catch. Grief sucked the life out of him sometimes. But the deed was done, and at least it might set a good example for his brothers and sisters, show that he was getting on with his life.