Читать книгу Amish Christmas Blessings - Marta Perry - Страница 13

Chapter Two

It seemed to Anna that Elizabeth hadn’t stopped smiling in the past twenty-four hours. She’d always known how much Elizabeth missed Benjamin and longed for his return, but she hadn’t even realized how much that was reflected in her face. Elizabeth looked as if she’d shed ten years in a single day.

Anna led the buggy horse to the gate and then turned him into the field. Buck seemed to shrug all over, as if delighted to be rid of the harness. He sniffed the icy grass and then broke into a gallop, racing to where the other horses stood at the far end of the field.

Smiling at his antics, Anna headed for the house. She’d volunteered to take the home visits today, so that Elizabeth could be free to enjoy Benjamin’s return.

But Anna couldn’t deny that she’d had another motive, too. She’d been just as eager to get herself well away from Benjamin’s disturbing presence.

Her steps slowed. She’d thought having time alone during the drive would give her a chance to come to terms with Benjamin’s return. Unfortunately her thoughts just kept spinning around and around like the windmill blades in a strong wind.

Enough, she told herself. Was she reluctant to accept his return because she worried that he’d hurt his family again? Or was her concern more selfish?

When Anna put it to herself that way, she couldn’t help but see the answer. Christians were called to forgiveness. They could only be forgiven as they forgave. If the rest of Benjamin’s family could forgive him and welcome him back, then she must, too.

Holding on to the resolution firmly, she marched into the house. As always at this time of day, Elizabeth was in the kitchen. She was bent over the propane oven, her face flushed as she pulled out two apple pies, their crusts golden brown and the apple juices bubbling up through the vents.

“That wouldn’t be Benjamin’s favorite pie, would it?” Anna forced warmth into her voice as she stowed her medical bag on its shelf by the door.

“Ach, you caught me.” Elizabeth transferred the pies to the wire cooling rack and turned, smiling.

Anna’s heart gave a little thump. Elizabeth was so happy. How could Anna be skeptical of anything that made her feel that way?

“He’ll appreciate those, I know.” Surely nothing he’d found in the outside world could match his own mamm’s cooking. “Can I do anything?”

Elizabeth surveyed the pots on the stove top. “I don’t think so.” She glanced toward the clock. “Ben went out to cut some greens for me. I felt like getting ready for Christmas today. Maybe you’d go out and help him bring them to the porch. It’ll soon be time for supper.”

Well, she’d offered to help. Elizabeth wasn’t to know that helping Ben...seeing Ben...was the last thing she wanted at the moment. All Anna could do was smile.

“Right away. Do you know where he went?” The woods began across the field behind the barn and stretched up to the ridge that sheltered the valley.

“That stand of hemlocks, I think. He knows I like the little cones on the greens to put on the windowsills.”

Nodding, Anna buttoned her coat again and went back out into the cold. The brittle grass crackled under her shoes as she walked, and she scanned the skies for signs of snow. But the only clouds were light, wispy ones moving lazily across the blue.

It might be silly for a grown woman to be longing for that first snow of the winter, but she couldn’t seem to help it. She loved running outside to feel the flakes melting on her face. She and her sisters used to vie to see who’d be first to catch a snowflake on her tongue.

A glimpse of black jacket among the hemlocks told her where Benjamin was, and she veered in his direction. Maybe it would be natural to wave or call out, but nothing felt natural when it came to Ben. Just the slightest glance from his deep blue eyes seemed to turn her back into the girl who’d thought she’d soon be a bride.

He had his back turned to her. The wheelbarrow next to him was full of green branches, and the clippers he’d been using lay atop them. Maybe he’d spotted a deer or a pheasant and was watching it, standing so still.

The clothes he wore were Amish, the black jacket a bit snug over his broad shoulders. Had he grown since he’d been gone? He certainly seemed taller and broader to her. The black pants and heavy shoes made her wonder what had become of the jeans and leather jacket. He wouldn’t need them if he meant to be home for good.

Well, of course he’d come home to stay. He wouldn’t be so unkind as to let his family believe that if it weren’t so, would he?

His voice startled her. For a moment she thought he’d spoken to her, and then she realized he stood immobile because he was talking on a cell phone. Not so surprising, but still...

Don’t judge. She had a cell phone herself, as well as the phone in the center. It was difficult to be a midwife to a widespread practice without one. She didn’t use the phone casually, marking off for herself the line between what was accepted and what was bending the rules.

Ben might have a difficult time adjusting to living under the Ordnung again after his time out in the world. They’d all have to make allowances for him.

“That’s not true.” Ben’s voice, raised in what might have been anger, came clearly to her ears. “Whatever happened between us is over.”

Anna froze. She shouldn’t be overhearing this. But she’d already heard. Should she make her presence known or attempt to creep silently backward?

“All right.” Ben snapped the words. “I’ll see you again, but not until I’m ready.”

Anna took a step back, and a branch snapped beneath her foot, loud in the still air. Ben spun. His glare nailed her to the spot. She’d seen his eyes merry and laughing and teasing. And tender, filled with longing. But she’d never seen them freeze over with anger.

He clicked the phone off. “Eavesdropping, Anna?” The words were edged with ice.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Your mother sent me out to help you. I didn’t realize what you were doing until...”

Her defense withered under his cold stare. When had he gotten those lines around his eyes, that tenseness in his jaw? That was new. Was that what the outside world had done to him?

“It didn’t occur to you to let me know you were here, ja?” He bent to pick up the wheelbarrow handles. “You’ve done your duty. I’m coming. Why don’t you run back and tell my daad that I was out here talking on my cell phone?”

A wave of anger came to her rescue. “I’m not a child, and I don’t tattle on people.”

“No.” His gaze drifted over her. “I can see you’re not a child, Anna. You’re all grown up now.”

Her anger edged up a notch at the way he’d looked at her. “Your clothes don’t make you Amish, Benjamin. If you’re not ready to leave the Englisch world, maybe you shouldn’t have komm.”

If anything, his face got tighter, until he didn’t look remotely like the boy she’d loved. “Mamm may say you’re like a daughter to her, but you’re not family. It’s not your business, so leave it alone.”

Shoving the wheelbarrow, he strode off toward the house.

Anna stood where she was, fists clenched. So much for her resolutions. Maybe she could forgive Benjamin for what he’d done in the past. But what about what he planned to do in the future? How could she ever trust him again?

* * *

Ben walked into the kitchen after supper, intent on a last cup of coffee. The quick cadences of Pennsylvania Dutch came from the living room, where everyone was settled for the evening, Daad reading aloud something from the latest issue of the Amish newspaper, Mamm sewing and Josh whittling a tiny boat destined for their brother Daniel’s oldest for Christmas. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the sound of his native tongue, and it soothed his soul.

But he was leaving out someone. Anna was there as well, her lap filled with the baby shawl she was crocheting for Daniel and Barbie’s youngest. When he’d said she wasn’t part of the family, he’d wanted only to hurt her. Not only had that been unkind, it hadn’t been true. Maybe she was more a member of the family than he was.

Standing at the counter, he stirred sugar into the coffee, his spoon clinking against the thick white mug. Mamm had already lined the kitchen windowsill with the greens he’d brought in. Amish might not have the Christmas trees that were everywhere in the outside world, but that didn’t mean they didn’t celebrate the season of Christ’s birth in their own way.

A light step sounded behind him, and Ben knew without turning that it was Anna. Funny, how his view of her had changed. He’d thought her a quiet little mouse of a girl when she’d first come to stay with them. But he’d learned she had considerable spirit behind that quiet exterior. Today she’d turned it against him in reminding him that clothes didn’t make him Amish, and he didn’t like it.

“Ben.” Her voice was soft. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

He turned. If she intended to reiterate her opinion of him...

Anna’s heart-shaped face was serious, and a couple of lines had formed between her eyebrows. “I want to apologize.” She seemed to have trouble getting the words out. “I had no right to speak to you the way I did. I’m sorry.”

She’d disarmed him, taking away all the things he’d stored up to say.

“It’s okay. I know you’re just concerned about Mamm.”

Some emotion he couldn’t identify crossed her face, darkening her eyes. “She’s not my mother, but I do care about her.”

“I know.” His voice roughened despite his effort at control. “Believe me, I don’t want to hurt her.”

He already had, hadn’t he? Ben backed away from that thought.

“Gut.” Anna hesitated. “I hope you’re home to stay. It would mean so much to your family.”

Would it mean anything to you, Anna? He shoved that thought away, not sure where it had come from.

“A lot has changed since I’ve been gone. I can’t believe how Josh has grown. And think of Daniel and Barbie, having two kinder already. And I suppose Joseph will be next.”

That brought a smile to her face, warming her eyes and showing him the beauty other people didn’t seem to see. “I’ve never seen your mamm so nervous as when Barbie’s little ones were born. She said I had to catch them because she couldn’t, but believe me, she watched every move.”

Ben leaned against the counter, cradling the mug in his hands as he studied her face. “So you’re a partner now, not an apprentice. That’s great.”

Anna wrinkled her nose. “Now if we could just convince our clients of that...”

“Not willing to admit you’re all grown up, are they? Folks are slow to move forward here, ain’t so?”

She nodded, and again he saw that flicker of some emotion saddening her eyes. Did it worry her that people might still favor Mamm to deliver their babies?

They’d be wrong to discount Anna. There was a lot more to her than most folks thought, he’d guess. For an instant he saw her face turned up to his in the moonlight, alive with joy. Did no one else see that in her?

“Why aren’t you married yet, Anna?” The question was out before he realized that it would be better not spoken. Talk about butting in where he didn’t belong. “Sorry, I shouldn’t...”

Daad came into the kitchen, interrupting the difficult moment. He glanced from Anna to him and then moved toward the coats hanging by the back door.

“I’m going out to check the stock. Komm with me, Ben?”

“Sure.” Daad was getting him out of a difficult moment—that was certain sure.

Grabbing the black wool jacket that Mamm had put away in mothballs for his return, he followed Daad out the back door.

The air was crisp and cold, making his skin tingle. And the dark—he’d forgotten how dark it was on the farm after living for three years with constant electric lights everywhere. The yellow glow from the windows faded as they walked toward the barn. Daad switched on the flashlight he carried, sending a circle of light ahead of them.

Ben tilted his head back. The stars were so bright it seemed he could reach out and touch them. “How bright the stars are here,” he said, his breath misting in front of his face.

Daad grunted. “No other lights to dim God’s handiwork.”

Daad had never lost an opportunity to point out God’s presence in their lives. He’d always said that it was a blessing to be a farmer, because it was as close as one could get to Heaven.

But right now, Daad wasn’t doing much talking. If they were going to communicate, it was probably up to him.

“You extended the chicken coop, I see.”

Daad flickered his flashlight in that direction. “The roof was getting bad, so we decided to replace the whole thing. Just took a day with everyone helping.”

Everyone but him, he supposed Daad meant. He couldn’t deny that. “I can’t believe how Josh has grown. He’s a man already.”

A grunt of agreement was Daad’s only answer. This was going to be an uphill battle. He hurried to shove back the heavy door before Daad reached it.

Their entrance was greeted by soft whickers from the stalls. Daad lit the propane lantern, and the interior of the barn emerged from the gloom.

A wave of emotion hit Ben, startling him by its strength. Why would he be so moved by the barn? Maybe it was the assurance of Daad’s routine. Nothing really needed to be done with the stock at this hour, but still, Daad never went to bed without a last check, just as Mamm had to check each of her kinder. Ben had been proud the first time Daad considered him old enough to come along on the evening round.

He stepped to the nearest stall, reaching up to run a hand along the neck of the buggy horse that nosed him curiously. “You’re a handsome fellow.” He stroked strong shoulders. “The gelding’s a good-looking animal. He’s new, ain’t so?”

“Went all the way down to Lancaster County for the livestock auction last spring to get him.”

Daad sounded as proud as an Amish person was likely to, pride being a sin. Funny, how the Englisch world seemed to consider it right and proper.

“Looks like you got a gut deal.”

He moved to the next stall, to be greeted with a nuzzle that nearly knocked his hat off. Dolly, the black-and-white pony they’d all learned to drive with. Her muzzle was a little gray now, but she looked fine and healthy.

He patted her, letting the memories flood back...driving the pony cart up the road to the neighbor’s farm, the day he’d thrown himself on Dolly’s back and urged her to gallop, the feel of the ground coming at him when she’d stopped suddenly, objecting to being ridden.

“Suppose I should have sold Dolly to someone with young kinder.” Daad stood next to him, his gaze on the pony. “But she’s gut with Daniel’s young one when he comes over.”

Besides the fact that Daad wouldn’t have wanted to part with her. Ben understood that—he wouldn’t, either.

“There’s something I need to say to you, Benjamin.” Daad’s voice was weighted with meaning. “Your mamm and me...well, we’d always thought that the farm would go to you when we were ready to take it a bit easier. I guess you knew that.”

He had, yes. It had been an accepted thing. Amish farms typically went to one of the younger sons, because they came of age when fathers were ready to take it a bit easier. And Ben had been the one who’d loved the farm more than Josh, whose mind was taken up by all things mechanical.

Maybe that had been in his mind that last night, when he’d seen himself settling down, marrying Anna, taking over the farm when it was time, building the next generation. It had closed in on him, reminding him of all the things he hadn’t seen, hadn’t done.

“Still, when you stayed away so long, we had to face the fact that you might not be back. So we decided the farm would go to Joshua. He’s young yet, not settled, but I’m good for a few more years.” Daad flickered a glance at him, then focused on Dolly. “Only fair to tell you. I don’t think it right to change our minds again. This is still your home, but it’ll go to Joshua, not you.”

It shouldn’t have hit him like a hammer. He should have expected it. After all, it was only right. He’d made his choice when he left.

He forced himself to nod, to smile. “Joshua will do a fine job, I know.”

It was only now, when it was out of his reach, that Ben realized how much this place meant to him.