Читать книгу An Amish Christmas - Patricia Davids - Страница 17

CHAPTER NINE

Karen held John tightly, her heart aching for him. All she had wanted from the moment she first saw him was to help him. She couldn’t imagine the suffering he had endured and was still enduring. He was in so much pain, but she didn’t know how to help.

He clung to her like a drowning man. His shoulders shook with muffled sobs. Offering him what comfort she could, she stroked his hair and whispered, “It will be okay.”

But would it be? She had faith in God’s plan for his life, but she knew that didn’t mean his life would be easy. Her own family was proof of that, but God had not abandoned them. He gave them strength and hope. Without her faith, it would have been impossible for her to go on.

John regained his composure before she was ready to let him go. Stepping away from her, he wiped his eyes on his sleeves. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, John. You have the right to grieve.”

“I didn’t mean to fall apart like that.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She was shocked at how much she wanted to be needed by him. Shocked by how much she wanted to hold him and to be held by him.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and avoided making eye contact. “The doctors warned me that I might have a meltdown. Stress, you know. I guess I should have warned you, but I didn’t expect to start blubbering like a baby.”

Stepping back, he said, “Don’t let me keep you up any later, Karen. You’ve had a long day. I’ll be fine.”

“Many times I have found my burdens too heavy to bear. Tears help sometimes and so do prayers. Pray for strength, John.”

“I’ll try. Thanks. For everything.” He turned away and entered the grandfather house as if he couldn’t wait to get away.

Karen climbed the steps slowly and entered her kitchen. Inside, she closed the door and leaned against it, crossing her arms tightly.

Her collar was damp from John’s tears. She could still smell the faint scent of the soap he used, still feel his lingering warmth on her skin. Never in her life had she been drawn to a man the way she was drawn to John.

In a stunning moment of clarity she realized her feelings had progressed far beyond wanting to help him. The emotions filling her heart and mind were those a woman saved for the man she was to marry.

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She blinked hard to hold them at bay.

It was wrong. Wrong to feel so much for someone not of her faith. How did it happen? How could she have been blind to the changes in her own heart?

She knew right from wrong. She recognized her need to be with John, to be held in his arms, to touch his face, those things were wrong.

In her mind she knew it—but her heart would not agree.

Any relationship between them was doomed. She knew that, but did John? Had she inadvertently set him up for more disappointment? She couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him more than he was already hurting.

“What am I going to do?” she whispered in the darkness.

To step outside the Ordnung, the rules of her faith, was to invite heartache for her and her entire family. She had others to think of. Her father had been through so much pain already. She could not add to his overburdened shoulders the shame of having a daughter shunned.

Straightening, she moved across the room and up the stairs, listening to the familiar creak of each tread, hoping not to wake anyone. After reaching her room, she got ready for bed and lay beneath the heavy quilt her mother had stitched. Somehow, she had to find a way to harden her heart against the temptation she faced. John would leave tomorrow afternoon when Emma had room for him at the inn. Until he was gone, Karen would guard her heart closely. No one must know how she felt.

Closing her eyes, she prayed for strength. It was a long time before she fell asleep.

* * *

John sat at the desk in his room listening to the hushed stillness of the night. Like a hamster in a wheel, his brain ran around and around the problems he faced, without generating any answers.

His breakdown tonight scared him more than he wanted to admit. Was the stress unhinging his mind? Could he face the fact that he might never remember his life from before?

It had been nearly three weeks since Karen found him. He had visited Amish and English farms all along Pleasant View Road. He’d spoken to dozens of families, and yet he was no closer to the answers he needed. No one knew who he was. How could he not be missed? Why wasn’t someone looking for him?

A chilling thought brought his overworked brain to a screeching halt. Maybe no one cared enough about him to wonder where he was.

What kind of man had he been? What kind of man wasn’t missed by anyone?

Panic rushed through him until he recalled Karen’s voice telling him he should pray for strength. He wanted to have faith in God’s goodness, but that was easier said than done.

He bowed his head, resting it on his folded hands, and spoke the words in his heart. “God, I’m floundering here. I’ve got no idea what You want from me. Karen says I need Your help and I believe her. She is the one good thing You’ve done for me.

“I can’t face this alone. You know I want answers. If I get them or not, well, that’s up to You. Just give me the strength to accept whatever comes and keep me from going insane.”

Raising his head, he drew a deep cleansing breath. Nothing had changed except for one small fact. Whatever happened, he didn’t have to face it alone.

The chill in the air soon drove him under the covers. Lying in bed, he knew he needed a new plan. The money he had wouldn’t last much longer. He could afford another week, maybe two at the inn in Hope Springs when he left here, but then what?

One more unanswerable question. He wanted to scream with frustration. Rolling to his side, he resolved to stop worrying about the future and have faith.

He slept fitfully the rest of the night. It was still dark outside when he gave up. Dressing in the chilly room he chided himself for not banking the fire the previous night. The stove was stone cold when he checked it and the wood box was empty.

Pausing on the front porch, he glanced at the main house. All the windows were still dark, even the ones upstairs. He wasn’t sure which one was Karen’s bedroom but he knew she would be up soon.

How would she treat him after seeing him break down last night? Would she think less of him? Did she see him as weak, now? Her opinion mattered. Maybe more than it should.

After carrying in an armload of wood, John set to work rebuilding the fire. When he had a small blaze going, he closed the firebox door and straightened, noticing his ribs didn’t protest the movement. Physically, he was healing.

Mentally? Not so much. He needed something to do. Something to keep him busy besides endlessly turning over every rock in his mind looking for his memory.

A sudden idea occurred to him. Karen’s father needed help with the chores. Horses were something John seemed to know about. He glanced out the window toward the barn. He was up, he might as well lend Eli a hand.

He was in the barn thirty minutes later when Jacob and Noah came in yawning and with lagging steps.

“Morning,” John called cheerfully. He finished shoveling out the last stall, then laid his pitchfork and shovel on top of the heaping wheelbarrow.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jacob demanded.

“Mucking out the stalls.” John started toward the rear of the barn.

Noah grinned and fell into step beside John. “Yippee. Now I don’t have to do it.”

Jacob chided Noah in Pennsylvania Dutch. John understood the tone if not the actual words.

Noah’s grin turned to a scowl. “I’m going to help Jacob with the milking.”

Looking over Noah’s head, John said, “I have one more stall to do. If you want to show me how to milk a cow I could help with that, too.”

“We do not need your help, English.” Jacob took his younger brother by the sleeve and pulled him toward the dairy cows patiently waiting by their stanchions.

After dumping his wheelbarrow load, John returned to the last stall. Slipping a halter on One-Way’s head, John led him out to the small paddock and turned him loose. Snorting and prancing, One-Way showed his appreciation of the open space by bucking his way around the enclosure.

Smiling at the animal’s high spirits, John said, “Work off a little of that ginger and maybe we’ll try some training later.”

One-Way trotted to the fence. Stretching his neck over the top boards, he playfully nipped at John’s sleeve, then took off like a rocket.

“I don’t care what you think of the plan,” John shouted after him. “There’s a harness in your future. You’d better get used to the idea.”

Chuckling to himself, John finished cleaning One-Way’s stall. After making sure all of the horses had hay, grain and freshwater, he brought the young Standardbred back in. Locking the stall door, John leaned on it admiring the horse.

Behind him, he heard Anna say, “There you are, John Doe. Have you forgotten where the house is?”

Stifling his amusement, John crouched in front of her. “I’m so glad you found me. I thought I was going to have to stay out here with the horses all day. Which way do I go?”

Anna shook her head as she grasped his hand. “Come, I will show you. Breakfast is ready.”

“Thank you.” Rising, he let the child lead the way, but stopped when he saw Eli watching them.

Anna said, “I found him, Papa. He forgot where the house was.”

Eli’s lips twitched. “Thank you, Anna. Run along and tell Karen we are coming.”

“Hurry up ’cause I’m hungry.” She headed toward the house at a run.

Eli moved to the nearest stall where a pretty brown mare with a white star greeted him. “Noah tells me you did his chores.”

“I hope you don’t mind. I felt the need to work. I’ve loafed long enough.”

“Work is goot for a man’s body and soul.”

“It felt good. It felt right.”

Eli turned away from his inspection of John’s work and began walking toward the house. “What are your plans now?”

John fell into step beside him. “I’ve talked to just about everyone in the community and I’ve come up empty. I guess I need to find work and a place to live now. I’m not giving up hope. I’m just being practical.”