Beyond Hope's Valley: A Big Sky Novel (21 page)

Every warm cabin,

Needs a good wife

Baby,

We're nothing alone, we're everything together

Aches all fade when someone helps you weather

The hard times,

You entered my heart, you entered my life

Every warm cabin, needs a good wife

Got a warm cabin, got a good life,

Got all I need

Ever' day with my wife."

Ben finished the last chords and opened his eyes. The auditorium was full and all eyes were on him.

Focused on his tears.

R
uth's hands folded and then unfolded on her lap. She cupped them again as if holding an invisible warmth inside. The Carashes' woodstove heated the room, but that wasn't the warmth she tried to grasp. It was the prayers lifted up. Words of care for each other.

Folks back home would say it's wrong. All of it
. . .

Gathering like this. Talking out loud in prayer. Bringing attention to yourself by speaking what's on one's mind to God—as if He needed any guidance figuring stuff out. The problem was . . . something about it felt right to Ruth. Her heart grew warm to hear her and Abe's names on Deborah Shelter's lips. Tears rimmed the edges of her eyes to hear Deborah's daughter praying for Marianna's adjustment back to Indiana and her relationship with Aaron.

"May Marianna and Aaron's marriage be founded in truth and stitched together with faithfulness," Sarah prayed. The tears came because Ruth could think of no more beautiful prayer than that. Yet as the muscles tightened in her neck, threatening to cut off the flow of air, she realized neither truth nor faithfulness had joined her and Abe together—not at first. Over the years feelings for Mark had unraveled, and thick threads of love for Abe had taken their place—not with neat stitches but with jagged lines that came as God carried them through the hard times together.

Ruth found it easy to let her mind wander when those praying spoke of people and problems she did not know, but her senses jerked awake when Abe stirred on the sofa seat beside her. He cleared his throat.

Surely he wasn't going to—

"Dear Lord, I come before Ye a man of feeble words. I did not grow in a home that spoke words of prayer aloud, yet their love fer You was known. Help me in my own family to show them what loving Ye is all about. I'm faltering 'cause this is a new path, a different way. But it feels right. It's a way of love . . ."

Ruth waited to see if he would continue, but after a long pause another voice rose up. The tremble of Abe's arm pressed against hers. With slow moments, she released her clenched hands, allowing the warmth she'd captured there to move up to her heart. She reached out and placed her hands over Abe's folded ones and the trembling stopped.

His words were true. This
did
feel good and right, and that was the problem. Ruth had allowed emotions to overtake her before, and they led to the wrong places—places of pain. Marianna had almost done the same. Ruth had seen the way her daughter had looked at Ben Stone and he at her. She shook her head in slow increments. To let emotions run wild wasn't always the answer. Like wild horses, they pulled and raced down destructive paths.

She let out a low breath, thankful Marianna was in Indiana far away from Ben, and then attempted to refocus her mind on the prayers around them.

And as the others prayed, she silently added in prayers for her children—for Levi and Naomi and the baby to come. For their wedding. For their life together.

She prayed for Marianna and Aaron, but as she thought of them she didn't know what to pray. Aaron seemed like such the perfect young man, but Marianna's letters of late had seemed discontent.

Lord, if he's not the man for her, please show my daughter.
Ruth didn't know where that prayer came from, but it was something to consider. She'd been the one to invite Aaron Zook to come visit them . . . but she never thought it to be a matter of prayer. Until now.

In fact most things in life she'd never really considered praying about. They lived their lives devoted to God . . . so why had she never thought to talk to Him much?

Marianna entered the Troyers' home for church service and it seemed like just another day—similar to the ones growing up. The same homes, the same buggies, the same people. Only the children were different. As some grew, they begot others to take their places.

She entered with Levi and Naomi, and she couldn't help but notice eyes upon them, especially her. She was certain if she'd already been baptized that she'd have some confessing to do. Her lack of formal commitment to the church was the only thing that had kept an elder from visiting. Of course she'd have to get baptized before the wedding. She and Aaron had yet to set a date, so she still had time.

She entered through the front door. The members of the community sat in familiar places. They sang the songs she knew and read familiar Scripture verses.

When it was time to kneel, Marianna did so willingly. Her heart warmed in full surrender to God. In the aisle behind her a young mother directed her toddler, showing her how to fold her hands and lower her head. Marianna thought of her own children someday. She had this—this community, these people, this learned reverence to offer, but because of Ben's influence she also had so much more.

Marianna had seen by example how her parents attended church and devoted themselves to others. She'd attended many a barn raising and delivered a meal to a family in need, but until Ben, she hadn't been sure she knew how to follow God. She was thankful now she knew how to listen to Him through His Word and prayer, instead of coming up with her own ideas.

When the time of silent prayer was over, the congregation lifted from their knees and returned to their seats on the benches.

She thought of her friend Jenny in Montana. An ache settled on Marianna at the thought of Jenny's hard growing-up years. What she'd been given had been a gift—a loving family and home filled with care and tenderness, the knowledge of God, a community who'd watched out for her best interest.

She scanned the faces of those in her Amish community. Was it worth trying to share more with them? Maybe what they had was enough. After all, what they did have was a great treasure in each other and their simple faith.

The poems and lessons she'd learned through repetition would be there for life. She told herself she wasn't turning her back on those things, just adding to it what God intended to be added from the beginning, a personal relationship with Him.

After the service was over, Marianna moved to help the other women in the kitchen. Most were kind to her, but some kept their distance. It didn't bother her too much. Mem had gained back their trust, hadn't she? It would take time, but she'd be back in the community again.

Naomi moved around the kitchen with slow steps. More women ignored her—pregnant and not married. That wasn't something one saw every day at an Amish church service.

Naomi tried to brush off the stares as she cut slices of pie. What would happen if they knew that besides Naomi being pregnant, Levi was not the father? As Marianna set out jars of sweet pickles on the tall tables, she scanned the faces of the young men. . . was one of those the father? Could he be part of their community? Could he be in this room?

She looked from face to face—and then her gaze stopped on Aaron.

Marianna shook her head. She would not think of that as a possibility. Yes, Aaron and Naomi had gotten close for a time after she left. And yes, he admitted kissing Naomi. Still, he swore he hadn't done more.

As much as Marianna wished he hadn't kissed Naomi, hadn't grown closer to her than he should, she was thankful things had only gone as far as they had. But then, Aaron's character wouldn't allow more. Some young man didn't have values or willpower, but her Aaron did.

Yes, Aaron's character was sound. Marianna shook her head. She should just be thankful for that, and that things between him and Naomi had stopped at a kiss.

And that Aaron and Naomi weren't the ones committing their lives to each other this summer.

A
s the days grew hotter, and the baby's birth grew closer, Marianna decided to move from Aunt Ida's house and stay with Levi instead—to be there for Naomi. Today she'd talked Naomi into getting out for a while. They went to town for groceries, and Marianna told Naomi she'd treat her to lunch.

Growing up, days like this didn't happen often. Working at the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery, she met people who ate there nearly every day. She hadn't eaten in a restaurant since returning home, but had to admit she looked forward to it. But before they could relax and enjoy lunch, she had to get some shopping done.

Naomi was looking at the fabric next door, and Marianna volunteered to get the groceries. She glanced at her list—oh yes. She needed a bag of beans for tomorrow's supper. With quick steps she walked toward the bins of bulk goods. She heard a man clearing his throat and noticed a tall man walking down the next aisle.

With all that had been happening lately, she hadn't thought much of the Englisch driver—the man her mother had once loved. But there he was. He wore a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, and she placed a hand on the cream-colored metal shelf, touching a bag of lentils as if considering the price.

He was handsome, she had to admit, but still it seemed strange he'd once held her mother's affections. What was it that had made Mem decide on Dat instead? Was it the simple fact that Dat was Amish? Marianna had no doubt her mother had made the right choice, but how?

Over the months that she'd been back, she'd heard more about this driver—Mark Olsen. One woman said he was divorced. Another said he'd recently gotten out of jail. Many refused to hire him as a driver unless there were no other options.

Still, not every Englisch man is alike.
She turned her back to the man and put two bags of beans into her shopping cart. Ben was Englisch, and he was different. She couldn't imagine him not following God, not pursuing what was right.