Arms of Love (31 page)

Adam was silent for a long moment. “There is nothing to forgive, Isaac, else I, too, would have to offer my apologies. I have been jealous of you for years—jealous of your place in
Fater’s
heart, jealous over Lena. Perhaps we both have lessons to learn in becoming better men.”

Isaac nodded and extended his hand. “Then have my hand, Adam, that I will become better than what I have been to you.”

Adam brushed his hand aside and pulled him into a hard embrace.

“Nay,
bruder
, take the offer of my heart that we will both move on to honor—and friendship.”

Chapter 26

J
oseph stood in front of the small, cracked mirror in the master bedroom and forced himself to look into his face. He was getting old; it was easy to see the silver threads in his dark hair, matching his cold eyes. He gripped the edge of the bureau that he’d carved himself years ago and sought for solace in squeezing the steadiness of the wood. But still, inside he shook.

Isaac’s betrayal was something that he could not understand. Had the lad been at the hard cider? Or been overlong at his books? In his heart Joseph knew that there was no excuse beyond what it was—Isaac had defended his
bruder
.

He held the wood harder beneath his fingertips, as if it would anchor him somehow to the present, but soon he was swallowed in the familiar rush of memories, the assaulting images flashing like a tempest in the back of his mind. His
fater’s
hamlike fist raised . . . his
mamm
cowering against the balustrade . . . the popping sound of wood splintering . . .

“Joseph, are you well?”

He swung with a fierce glare, gasping for breath, as the reality of Ellen’s presence materialized behind him.

“What?” he gasped.

“I asked if you fare well. I saw Isaac go outside this morn. Do the boys trouble you?”

He heard the quiver of fear in her voice and hated himself for it.

He leaned back against the bureau and drew a deep, steadying breath.

“I am well, Ellen. You may go.”

“I thought some herb tea might perhaps—”

“You may go.”

He watched her nod, her pretty face sad, but there was no help for it. He was what he was—a monstrous slave of his past. And Ellen must never know. She must never know . . .

Adam ran as long as he could along the Indian trails, pushing himself beyond breath, heartbeat, and thought until he dropped in a mossy copse and lay with his face to the earth. On one hand, he felt renewed by the exchange he’d had with Isaac, but then he closed his eyes against the image of his confrontation with his father because it made him feel lost again somehow. It was a bitter irony that in close proximity to the man who helped give him life he lost all sense of being. When his father had shaken him, had been so near his face, those elusive and fractured images of darkness flashed again somewhere in the back of his brain. Perhaps he was mad . . .

He rolled over and stared up at the blue sky. Yes, perhaps he was truly mad. Had he not only yesterday come to a decision that he would receive love, not force it? Yet he had laid hands on his brother over the breakfast table. He upset his mother, insulted his father . . . Perhaps he should enlist now, or go away somewhere. But where? Where without Lena? For surely he would wander the earth like a marked Cain, and all would see him for what he was . . . a creature of loss and lament.

He half sobbed at the thought, but knew he could not withstand the torment of living under the same roof with Lena as his sister-in-law.

He would dishonor her with his mind, of that he was certain. What did the Bible say? Flee from temptation? Perhaps he should flee . . . enlist . . . as he should have done days ago. But something held him again, bid him wait and hold a bit longer, and he gave in to that calm, still Voice and turned back over to sleep against the moss.

He woke to the strange sensation that he was being watched and sat up with abrupt concern. To fall asleep in the woods was not a wise idea, and thoughts of the stalking panther made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

Then he saw John Yoder sitting cross-legged, regarding him with a sober and considering expression from the blue eyes that were so like his sister’s. Adam relaxed and leaned back on his elbows, allowing himself to stretch out.

They sat in companionable silence until a hawk screamed overhead and broke the moment. “He’s found his breakfast,” Adam remarked, gesturing with his chin to the sky. “Did you have yours?”

John shook his head. “I have been up for a while.”

“ ’Tis a danger to run in these woods alone and unarmed.”

“Or to sleep in them?”

“True enough. So tell me what troubles the heart of a ten-year-old man,” Adam said lightly.

“Eleven,” John answered calmly. “Today I’m eleven.”

Adam looked at him, at the fine features that would come to fruition in years, at the speckling of freckles that would disappear or stay to charm his first love.
His first love
.

“I must congratulate you then, John Yoder. Eleven years is nothing to scoff at, with the perils of this new world.” Adam was serious and lay back fully on the grass, staring up at fluffy clouds between the treetops.

“The Brits would take me at eleven, at ten even,” John said softly.

Adam sat back up and turned on his hip to face the lad. “What are you talking about?”

“Going to fight.”

“And kill your
schwester
with worry? I do not think so.”

“What do you care? She’ll be married to Isaac.”

Adam sighed. “
Ya
, there’s the rub. ’Tis enough to make me consider the fight as well.” He shouldn’t have admitted his feelings to the boy; it might sound like he was giving permission for an early enlistment. “I did not mean that.”

“Yes, you did,” John said flatly. “I heard you the evening you talked to Lena about it . . . heard you leave her. Everyone wants to run away, I should imagine. Why not you?”

Adam blew out a breath of air and half chuckled. What was he to do with a prophetic muse in the body of a child whose very eyes seemed to penetrate his soul? “The trick is learning not to run, lad. To stand . . . and to fight from where you are.”

“Are you preaching the Bible to me?” John asked solemnly.

“No,” Adam said, alarmed. He did not want to appear as Isaac to this boy; that would drive him off entirely.

“Yes, you are. Stand and fight . . . fight the
gut
fight. Isn’t that what the Bible means about accepting things in life?”

Adam felt something twist in his heart. “
Ya
, fight the good fight. I think you be too smart for your own age, eleven-year-old.”

The boy grinned at that, and they rose in mutual accord.

“
Kumme
home with me,” Adam invited. “My
mamm
will feed you.”

“
Nee
, I had better get back. But, Adam—”

“
Ya
, what is it now?”

“Adam, the bishop came this morn.”

The boy’s words flashed through Adam’s mind with the rapidity of lightning, then simmered like hot oil and sank in. The bishop meant marriage . . . and soon; he usually only stayed a few days.

Wait . . . A few days more
. . . The calm voice of his Creator murmured deep inside, and Adam reluctantly began the walk home to obey.

Lena stole some time from her chores to go and kneel at her mother’s grave site. How she longed for the gentle presence of the woman who had raised her, for the sweet voice that always knew with calm deliberation exactly what to do.

Lena sighed and began to speak aloud softly, not caring if her
mamm
could hear her words or not. She wanted to talk.

“I miss you,” she began, then uttered the words again and again like a litany until she was spent of the permeating feeling of loss for the moment and could move on. “
Ach, Mamm
, you cared for Adam, found him to be a righteous man in God’s sight. You spoke out confidently for him when
Fater
had his feelings of doubt. But Isaac . . . what did you think of Isaac? I do not suppose that I will ever know.

We never spoke of him, simply in passing. But I am to marry him,
Mamm
. Marry him. How I wish I might be younger again, like Abby, like Faith, that I might move forward
knowing
instead of doubting.

How I wish I might have saved you that morning . . . I am so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. But I guess it’s not my burden to save you— not then, not now. That is hard to know,
Mamm
. It is so hard to know a lot of things . . .”

“I feel like that too.”

Lena jumped in surprise at the low voice.

“John! You frightened me.”

He dropped to his knees beside her and laughed. “I am sorry,

Lena. I heard some of what you said. It makes me feel
gut
. . . feel less alone when you talk to
Mamm
like that.”

Lena reached to squeeze his hand, and he squeezed back for a second. “That’s
gut
, John.”

“I heard you talk about Isaac. Lena, I don’t understand why you want to marry him when Adam—”

“I do not wish to talk of Adam.” Lena swiped at her eyes and rose.

“I saw him this morning.”

Lena paused. “You did? Where?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about him.” He squinted up at her, a grin on his pale face.