Beyond Hope's Valley: A Big Sky Novel (22 page)

She finished getting everything she needed on that aisle. Would she be able to move to the next one over without being seen? No luck, she was exiting her aisle the same time Mark exited his. He slowed and glanced her direction. She turned away and moved toward the bin of oats, hoping he wouldn't follow. She let out a sigh of relief when he moved to the checkout counter instead.

Marianna's heart pounded in her chest as she realized that as soon as the baby was born, there'd be a wedding, and if there was a wedding, Dat and Mem would return.

What would happen if Mem happened to run into Mark? Or worse yet, what if he found her . . . making it clear what he'd already told Marianna—that he hadn't forgotten their love.

Marianna picked up a few more things. She watched Mark leave the store and then approached the front counter.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" She struggled to push thoughts of a meeting between her mother and Mark out of her mind.

"Uh, yeah. I guess so." The blonde woman's eyes widened. "I've always liked spring."

"Me, too. I'm glad to be able to hang my laundry outside, instead of around the woodstove." Marianna smiled. "I love getting dressed and smelling the sun on my garments, don't you?"

The woman nodded. She tilted her head and studied Marianna, a strange look in her eyes. It was then Marianna remembered: she wasn't in Montana! Conversations like these—between the Amish and Englisch—weren't done here.

Marianna paid for her items and then grabbed up her bags, started to leave—then stopped. Done or not, there was no call to be rude. She offered the woman a smile. "Have a nice day. And thank you for all your service. It's much appreciated."

The woman nodded and a responding smile filled her face. "Wow, thanks. I think you just made my day."

Naomi lifted the edge of a bolt of fabric and rubbed it between her fingers.

"It's microfleece." The storekeeper approached. "It's nice and soft but not too heavy. Perfect for a summer baby."

"
Ja
. I think I'll take two yards." Naomi pointed to a light blue fabric. "I've already made three baby blankets, but I'm sure one more won't hurt."

As the woman nodded and pulled the bolt of fabric from the store rack, the jingling of the bell on the store's glass door drew her attention. Naomi turned and her smile faded as Aaron walked in with Mrs. Zook. Instinctively, her hands went to her stomach. As if feeling her eyes upon him, Aaron lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers.

Mrs. Zook continued on to the back of the store, her eyes fixed on the clearance rack. Instead of following her, Aaron moved Naomi's direction. She turned back to the fabric, not knowing what else to do.

"Hi there." Aaron strode up and paused by her side. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"I saw you Sunday. At church." Naomi acted as if she was engrossed in a bright fabric of bunnies and ducks. "I served you pie."

"
Ja
, that's right."

They stood there in silence before Aaron took a step closer. "Did Levi bring you to town?"

Naomi shook her head. "No, Marianna did. You're marrying a good woman."

"I know. And where is Levi?"

"He's at work." Naomi looked around. "Shouldn't you be there too?"

He shrugged. "It's my mem's birthday. She asked I bring her to town and help her pick out fabric for a quilt."

"And she won't think anything of you talking to me?"

"No." He brushed his blond bangs from his forehead. "Why should she?"

The tension in Naomi's chest built, and she again considered running from the store. "So she doesn't know?"

"Know?"

"
Ja
, know that I'm carrying your child." The words slipped from her mouth more easily than she expected they would.

Aaron took two steps back, running into a rack of fabric and making a loud clang.

She turned to him, daring to fix her eyes on his. "Why, Aaron, are you acting surprised?"

He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "And why are you acting as if I should know?"

"How could you not? You were always the expert at math. We were together . . . oh about nine months ago." She cocked one eyebrow. "Or did you forget?"

"Of course not." He turned away. "I just assumed . . ." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I assumed because you're marrying Levi that he was the father."

"I had no choice. I found out just days after you left for Montana."

"You should have at least told me." His voice lowered a notch.

Naomi sucked in a breath, holding it. Those moments with Aaron had been so special. He'd been so tender and caring. He'd helped her forget about Levi, and for a time she thought he truly did love her. As she walked around the house she imagined he'd built it for her. She tried to convince herself, as she was consumed by his kisses, that he'd forget Marianna. But that wasn't the case.

Pain stabbed her heart to see him. To look into his blue eyes. It was the same pain she felt the moment he told her he was going to Montana to see Marianna. She'd packed a lunch and had taken it over—any excuse to see him one more time. One more chance for him to choose her . . . but he'd walked away and boarded that train instead.

Naomi wiped her eyes, refusing to let one tear drop. She'd cried enough tears over Aaron. Thankfully, Levi had stepped up—had been the man she knew Aaron could never be.

"And would it have made any difference if I would have told you sooner?" Naomi crossed her arms over her chest. "You built a house for her, Aaron. You went to Montana to get her. You love
her—
" Her voice lowered to a whisper. "How could your child and I ever compete with that?"

Without another word she went to the cash register and paid for her fabric, and then she walked through the door without looking back.

There was no need.

No reason to let him see her tears.

After shopping, Marianna found Naomi waiting outside the grocery store with her bag of fabric. She had a distant look in her eyes . . . Probably because of the pregnancy. Marianna couldn't imagine the fatigue that must set in so close to the baby's due date.

After loading up their things in the buggy, Marianna led the way into the restaurant. Naomi followed, keeping pace right behind her. Marianna was sure if she stopped short Naomi would plow into her back. The young woman had seemed nervous from the moment Marianna had found her. She'd had a small purchase of fabric but told Marianna she would do more shopping at a later time.

Marianna saw a table open and sat down. What had gotten Naomi so bothered? Instead of asking, she told herself that all would be explained at the right time. Marianna didn't need to go poking and prodding for the truth like Aunt Ida learned to do so well.

"What are you doing?" Naomi leaned close to Marianna, but didn't sit in the empty chair.

Marianna peered up into Naomi's wide-eyed gaze. "What do you mean?"

"What are you doing sitting here, out in the open?" Naomi leaned closer. "In the middle of all the Englisch?"

Marianna looked around and for the first time noticed the glances. The prying eyes.

"I . . . I'm sorry." She stood and followed Naomi to a corner booth.

Naomi took the seat with her back to the rest of the restaurant, as if not seeing them would make the Englisch evaporate into thin air.

"You've changed, Mari." Naomi shook her head.

Marianna picked up her menu and flipped to the back page. "I don't know what you mean."

"Times past you'd never wanted to eat in a restaurant. We musta passed this place a hundred times and never'd come in. It's like . . ." Naomi paused placing a finger over her lips as if trying to keep the words tucked inside.

"Like what?" Marianna set down the menu. Her hands felt clammy and her hunger turned to dread.

"It's like you're one of
them.
" Naomi cocked one eyebrow. "Levi left to live in the world a time and you'd never know it. He's come back and fits in just the same. But you . . ."

Marianna tilted her head. "Because I sat at a center table you think that?"

"Not so much. It's other things. I've seen you watching folks, studying the Amish like the tourists do. Like it's all new to you instead of how you've lived from the day you were born. Yer words are proper too—Englisch proper—and to hear you talk about God like you do. Talking like you know Him and speak with Him and telling others they should do the same. Well, it's different. We have our ways, Marianna. Faith is private. Only the prideful person would suggest how another should live."

Marianna leaned back, pressing her shoulders against the vinyl seat. She knew what Naomi was talking about—her suggestion to read her Bible and pray. She lowered her gaze and shook her head, whispering a quiet prayer for patience.

Wait.

Marianna knew the words she wanted to say, but also knew they'd bring about no good. Still, they replayed in her mind.
I suggest you spend more time with God and you point a finger at my pride? You're carrying a child conceived outside the marriage bed and you accuse me?

She took in a deep breath then released it. "I'm sorry you feel that way." She didn't try to explain. Didn't try to defend. She knew that to do either would just help tip their already distant relationship.

Naomi nodded but didn't respond. Instead, she looked down at her growing stomach and placed a hand over it, spreading her fingers. Her eyes widened as if she felt the baby kick, but Marianna didn't ask if it did. As she watched the tender moment, a strange uneasiness washed over her. It was as if invisible hands had gripped her neck. Everything within her wished to push from the booth, to look away, to hurry away.

Why? Why do I feel this way? I should be happy. Levi's returned to the Amish. We'll have another member to our fam—

She couldn't finish the thought. Her mind wouldn't go there. It couldn't go there. This baby—something to be celebrated—made the hairs on her arms stand on end. But why? Why did this feeling creep over her like hundreds of ants?

"Excuse me." Marianna placed the menu back on the table and slid from her seat. "It feels a little warm in here." She brushed a trembling hand across her forehead. "I think I need to splash some water on my face."

Naomi glanced up and nodded. "I hope you're not coming down with something."

Marianna swallowed down the emotion that was balling up in her throat. "
Ja
, me too."

She looked around and found the bathroom, hurrying toward it. Why had they'd stopped to eat? Suddenly the last thing she could do was enjoy lunch.

Her stomach turned, sickness overcoming her, and she hurried into the farthest stall closing it behind her. The air felt heavy and thick and she struggled for breath. Tears rimmed her eyes.

What's wrong with me?

She lowered the toilet seat and sat. Her knees quivered and she placed her face in her hands. A sob attempted to burst from her lips but she pushed it deeper inside.

The door to the bathroom opened and she heard footsteps. Every muscle froze. Wasn't there anywhere she could be alone with her thoughts?