A Time for Peace (10 page)

"Shall I bring you a cup of tea? And please don't say 'don't go to any trouble.' "

With a tired smile, Phoebe nodded. "That would be
wunderbaar, danki."

While the water for the tea heated Jenny rejoined Matthew at the table. Maybe she was going about this wrong, she thought.Maybe instead of waiting for Phoebe to get better she should be asking Matthew if he knew anything. There was just that small matter of her reading the letter, though.

She sighed. What a mess.

"Anything wrong?" Matthew asked her.

"No, why?" Another lie.

"You just seem . . . distracted."

"I'm just off my schedule." She fixed the tea, poured him a cup of coffee and set it before him, and then started out of the kitchen.

At the doorway she suddenly realized she'd left her journal and she glanced back. Matthew was looking at it thoughtfully as he reached for his coffee. Then he looked up and their eyes met. She'd left it out a couple of times and always felt safe and yet today she didn't feel comfortable doing so. But if she walked over and picked it up, wasn't she telling him she didn't trust him?

S
he didn't trust him.

Shocked, Matthew stared at the journal. He'd never had any desire to look at it or any other personal papers of hers. He'd always trusted her and thought she trusted him. What had happened to change that?

It didn't take her long to return.

"That was quick." He watched color rise in her cheeks.

"She was already asleep." She put the teacup in the sink, picked up the journal, and left the room.

He listened to her steps in their room overhead, and then heard her descending the stairs. When she returned, she pulled her coat from the peg by the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I promised
Grossmudder
I'd get her the quilt she was working on."

"Jenny, we need to talk," he said, pushing back from the table.

"I'll be home soon," she said.

She was out the door before he could respond.

He got up from the table and stood at the kitchen window, watching her hurry to the house next door.

The distance between them felt like it was growing by the moment and he didn't know how to fix it. Here he'd told himself it was because she was tired, overwhelmed by the responsibility of caring for her grandmother. He'd blamed it on her being a little depressed around her time of the month when she found out that once again she hadn't conceived.

But now he didn't know what was wrong or how to fix it. He was a simple man, a farmer who didn't have a lot of words, who relied on action to show how he felt. He'd thought he'd shown her he loved her, thought everything was fine, that she was happy here.

But maybe everything he'd thought was wrong. He was usually a pretty calm person, taking things as they came, secure in the belief that even when life looked confusing and a little worrisome that his God was in charge, that His will was in force, and all was well.

The split pea soup he'd eaten began churning in his gut. Turning, he picked up the bowl and set it in the sink. He poured another cup of coffee, glanced at the clock, and sat down. How long did it take to fetch a quilt?

Fifteen minutes later, he was still sitting there waiting for his wife to return. Sighing, he got up, put his cup in the sink, and reached for his jacket. He reasoned that if he was going to wait he might as well get something done in the barn.

He glanced over as he walked to the barn, wondering if Jenny saw that he was going there if she'd come home. No, he shouldn't think that way. That was just plain ridiculous. Things between them couldn't have gotten that bad that quickly.

Could they?

Jenny knocked on the front door, then opened it as she always did.

"It's Jenny," she called out.

She stepped inside, then stopped when she heard raised voices coming from the kitchen.

"When were you going to let us know? When the kid went off to college?"

"Lower your voice," Chris said. "Hannah needs her rest."

"I asked you a question," Chris's father said in a quieter voice.

"And I answered you. If you didn't come to the wedding who knew you'd be interested in a grandchild?"

"I explained why we didn't come."

"You hurt my wife's feelings!"

Feeling she was eavesdropping, Jenny turned to leave and ran into Chris's mom, Fern.

"They at it again?" she asked, smiling as she set her packages down on a table by the door. "They've been like this since Chris learned to talk. Come on," she said, slipping her arm through Jenny's, "Let's go in the kitchen and warm up with a cup of tea. Maybe they've woken up my daughter-in-law and she'll join us. How's your grandma?"

"Getting better," Jenny told her, surprised at the easy friendliness of the woman. William had been a little standoffish with her.

The men looked surprised when Jenny and Fern entered the kitchen.

"I knocked," Jenny said apologetically.

"I didn't hear you," Chris told her and he gave his father a meaningful look.

"What's all the fuss?" Hannah asked, yawning as she walked in. "I could hear you all the way upstairs." She turned to Jenny and hugged her. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I came over to get the quilt
Grossmudder
was sewing before she got sick."

"I'll get it for you in a minute," Hannah said. "Sit down, let's have a cup of tea."

"Exactly what I suggested," Fern told her, rubbing her hands together for warmth.

Jenny wanted to suggest that she would get the quilt but it was in her grandmother's room and that was where Chris's parents were staying. She supposed she shouldn't go in there now.

"How is she doing?" Chris wanted to know.

"Better. When she said she was missing her quilting I thought I'd get it to occupy her. Otherwise, before we know it she'll be trying to do housework."

Chris held out his hand to Hannah and she took it and let him lead her to a chair. "Did you get any rest at all?" he asked. "You weren't up there long."

She sat and sighed. "The baby doesn't let me get much these days."

Fern took the teakettle to the kitchen faucet and filled it. "Taking after his father, I imagine. Chris was a bundle of energy from the very beginning."

She turned to look quizzically at Hannah. "You two really don't want to know the sex of the baby until it arrives?"

"That's when we knew," William said, accepting a cup of coffee from his wife. "It was good enough for us back then."

"It just seems like such a nice surprise to find out when it's born," Hannah said, her smile dreamy as she looked up at Chris. "It's one thing to say that you don't care if it's a boy or girl as long as it's healthy but not knowing means you really do."

"Makes a lot of sense," William said gruffly, smiling slightly at Hannah.

Surprised at his softening toward his daughter-in-law, Jenny glanced at Chris and saw that he was looking askance at his father.

"Could I cook supper tonight to help out?" Fern asked as she sat next to Hannah.

"Oh, I'm fine. It wouldn't be right to have you cooking while you're visiting."

"We're family," Fern insisted gently. "When you come to our home, you can cook a meal for us."

She looked at her son. "I hope you'll bring Hannah for a visit there one day. Watch your son or daughter play in the fields where you played."

"Don't you remember, your son doesn't want any part of us or our farm?" William stood and stomped out of the room.

"He never changes, does he?" Chris asked his mother.

Sighing, Fern stood and patted her son's cheek. "Neither of you do," she said simply. "Neither of you do."

Bending, she kissed Hannah's cheek. "Don't you let it worry you," she told her. "Both of them have a bigger bark than they have a bite."

Hannah smiled. "I know they love each other."

She turned to Chris and held out her hand. "Here, help the whale up. I'm going to get that quilt for Jenny so she can get back to Phoebe."

And Matthew, thought Jenny suddenly, wishing she could find a way to delay going home.

Chris hoisted Hannah up out of the chair and kissed her cheek.

"You know," Fern said pensively as she stared at Hannah. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and say I think you're going to have a girl."

Hannah stared at her abdomen then at her mother-in-law."Really? Why do you think that?"

"Because you're carrying high. If you carry high, you're having a girl and if you carry low, it's a boy."

When Hannah looked at her, Jenny lifted her shoulders and let them fall.

"I thought it was the opposite. I don't really know."

And I don't want to talk about this, Jenny wanted to say. But she didn't. Hannah had every right to talk twenty-four hours a day about her pregnancy if she wanted to. It was selfish of Jenny to want to avoid the subject.

"You could ask Leah. She says she's got a good prediction rate."

"I think it's a girl," Hannah said. "Chris says he doesn't care as long as it's healthy. If it's a girl, we're going to call her Lydia after his grandmother. If it's a boy, we'll call him Jonah, after my father."

Hannah started down the hall to Phoebe's bedroom and Jenny would have followed. But then she heard sniffling.

"You'd name the baby after my mother?" Fern whispered as her eyes filled.

Chris grinned. "As long as it's a girl."

Fern turned to look after Hannah. "Chris? When did you say she's due?"

"Not for another month. Why?"

"She's waddling."

"Ssh!" he hissed. "She could hear you. You heard her say she feels big as a whale."

"You don't understand. That's how you know a woman's getting near to delivery. The bones in her pelvis soften so she can have the baby easier."

Chris paled and sat down. "Really, Mom. Too much information."

But she didn't hear him. "I'm going to go talk to your father. We can stay at a motel if you can't put us up here. But I'm not leaving and missing out on my seeing my first grandchild when it's born."

She hurried out of the room.

"Another month of my father? I can't live through that, Jenny."

Then he brightened. "Wait a minute. Phoebe'll be well by then and she'll need her room back."

She wanted to argue with him but she wasn't so sure how she'd be getting along with her grandmother after they talked about the letter.

"Here's the quilt," Hannah said as she brought it to Jenny. "And her basket of supplies. Do you want Chris to help you carry it to your house?"

Jenny lifted it all. "No, I'm fine. Listen, you're looking really tired. Let your mother-in-law cook supper. I think she really wants to help."

Glancing over Jenny's shoulder, Hannah smiled. "They're nice people. I know they were a little worried about what Chris was getting himself into by staying here. I know we look quaint and old-fashioned to the
Englisch.
But I think it's helping that they're seeing everything for themselves."

She sighed. "Now if we can just keep William and Chris from killing each other."

Matthew watched Chris pace around the barn.

"If you keep doing this you're going to exhaust yourself by the time the baby comes," he said.

"I know." Chris blew out a breath. "I've done everything I can think of. Planned the crops for spring. Ordered the seed. Repaired the tack."

Matthew hid his grin as he bent over the dresser he was sanding.

"I need a hobby."

"A hobby? What's that?"

Chris stared at him and then he laughed. "Yeah, guess that's a strange word here."

"I know what a hobby is," Matthew told him dryly. He stood back and studied the dresser, then ran his hand over the sanded surface. "What did you used to do in your spare time?"

"I had this Mustang."

"Really? You could have brought him." Matthew looked up from his task when Chris laughed. "What?"

"It's a car. You haven't heard of a
Mustang?"

Matthew shook his head. "We don't exactly keep up on things like that."

"No, right." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Man, what a honey that car was. Midnight blue. Sleek lines. V-8 engine. Lotta horsepower under the hood. She could go from zero to—" he stopped. "Sorry."

"It's
allrecht.
I think I understand. I've seen how
Englischers
feel about their cars. It's different but I feel some fondness for Pilot when he takes me somewhere in the buggy. Pilot doesn't have as much horsepower but he shows me a lot of affection."

Chris grinned. "I understand."

Matthew stared at his brother-in-law. He'd never thought to ask this question but suddenly it seemed important to him."Chris, are you happy here?"

The other man stared at him. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

Shrugging, suddenly unable to look at him, Matthew pretended a need to focus his attention on the front drawer of the dresser.

"Are you afraid I'll go back with my parents?"

Matthew glanced up. "Well, I wondered . . ." he trailed off.

"You don't think Hannah thinks that, do you?" Chris ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. "She can't think that. She has to know I love her."

"You don't miss anything about your old life?"

"Are you crazy? My life's here, with her and the baby coming."He stopped and stared into the distance. "Oh geez," he said.

With a sigh, he sank down on a nearby bale of hay and appeared lost in thought.

"Chris. Chris!" he repeated.

"What?" He shook his head, as if to clear it.

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm just trying to think about whether I said or did anything that would make Hannah concerned I'd go back home with my parents. She doesn't deserve any stress right now."

Matthew threw down the sandpaper and walked over to crouch down in front of Chris. "I'm sorry I asked the question.I meant no harm. You and Hannah look so much in love. It's just that things are so different here. It's not the life for everyone."

"I know that. It's taken some adjustment. But nothing I wasn't expecting. You forget, too, that I had a pretty structured life in the military. I don't have any problem with rules."