Beyond Hope's Valley: A Big Sky Novel (6 page)

Even this room seemed lonely.

Marianna took her English Bible from her suitcase and opened it on her lap. She closed her eyes, picturing the pond in Montana. So many warm days she'd spent reading there, imagining Jesus sitting beside her near the still waters. She opened her eyes and glanced around the room.
Yer with me here, too, aren't You?

She glanced at the closet, where homemade dresses hung, and at her simple shoes on a simple rag rug near the foot of the bed. Not one decoration hung on the walls, and even the curtains were plain. She imagined Jesus finding comfort here. Not because of the manner of living . . . but because of her. He cared more about her heart than her plain ways. That thought pushed her lips into a smile and she prayed for Aunt Ida's lonely heart that tried to occupy itself with so many things. And she gave thanks that she didn't have to worry about being alone like that.

Thanks for Aaron.

Surely the rumors are nothing serious. What could he have done? He's been in our home for months . . .

She released a sigh. She offered those worries up to God, too, yet even as she prayed she didn't feel the same connection with God as she had near the pond. Marianna set her Bible to the side and moved to the window.

The fading sunset filtering through the bedroom window seemed brighter than the sunsets in Montana. Maybe because there were no majestic mountains for the rays of sunlight to stretch over, or tall pines to filter through. Marianna rose and moved to the window, placing her fingertips on the panes of cool glass. Her aunt's house sat on a small ridge, giving her a view of the farmland to the north.

The land her father used to tend.

In the distance, the roof of her childhood home peeked over a small cluster of trees. Not far beyond that was Naomi's house, right next to the house of one of her married aunts. Even though Marianna could not see the country road from here, her mind's eye continued down that road. All of her father's siblings lived along that road—all except Ike. That's the way things had always been, and she hadn't thought life would ever be any different until her father uprooted their family. Now their family home was occupied by another.

Marianna set her Bible to the side, recalling the verse she'd chosen to memorize after deciding to leave: '"For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD," she whispered. "'Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."'

She readied herself for bed and slid into sheets that smelled of Aunt Ida's homemade soap. She closed her eyes, but her mind wouldn't settle. It was easy to memorize the verse, but for some reason it wasn't sinking into her heart like she hoped it would. How were Mem, Dat? Was Joy scooting around more? Did Ellie ask about her? What about the boys? Did they watch out for Charlie on their walk to and from schul?

Marianna yawned and closed her eyes, pretending she was back in Montana. Pretending that Joy slept in the crib across the room and the boys were snoring. Pretending she had to get up early to work at the store. Even though she was tired, that was the only thing that could make her peaceful enough to sleep—

Pretending she was back in the place she'd thought she wanted to leave for good.

Abe Sommer glanced at the clock one more time before blowing out the lantern and climbing in bed next to his wife. Ruth climbed into bed early. Said her head was aching. Abe should have gone to bed hours ago, but he couldn't get his mind to stop all its thinking. He worried about Marianna. Why he hadn't taken more time to talk to her about everything—about returning, about marrying Aaron, about the growing faith that he knew she shared. He'd seen the difference in her. Was hard to miss.

He could tell she'd been sneaking his Bible. The peace in her eyes was evident. He'd heard her whispered prayers through the wall in the next bedroom more than once. There'd been many times he'd felt ill-prepared as a father of grown children, but now more than ever. How could he lead his daughter when his own steps were unsure?

Ruth's body was warm under the covers, and he snuggled up next to her. He kissed the top of her head, his lips pressing against her sleeping kerchief.

"You awake?"

From the softness of her breath he knew she was. He most likely woke her when he entered. He should let her go back to sleep . . . but he had too much on his mind. He wouldn't be able to drift off until he found out Ruth's thoughts on returning to Indiana soon like.

She turned toward him. "Hmmm?"

"If you're sleeping we can talk tomorrow, but I've been thinking . . ."

"About Marianna?" Her whispered words carried through the dark room. "I keep wondering how it's going." Her tone was softer than it had been earlier tonight. He didn't know what had been bothering her, but he hoped his helping with the dishes and the children had put her in a better mood.

"
Ja
. Me too, but about something else. We'll be expected to return for our children's weddings . . ."

Ruth's body stiffened. "I know." She swallowed hard, and if he wasn't mistaken she scooted away from him, putting more space between their bodies and the warm breath of their words. "I'm not sure of Marianna's plans, but I imagine Levi and Naomi's wedding will happen quick like, before her pregnancy becomes evident."

Ruth reached a hand toward him, stroking his chin with cold fingers. If only he hadn't turned out the lantern. Then he could read the expression on her face. Something was wrong. Something other than Marianna.

"We can go, but we don't have to stay long. We'll see our family, of course, but . . ." She blew out a breath. "But we hadn't have the boys miss too much schul. Maybe a five-day trip, that should be sufficient."

Could this be the woman who argued about coming to Montana in the first place? Though Abe was thankful Ruth had adjusted to Montana, he knew it would take more than five days just to visit their brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, not to mention travel time and wedding preparations.

"We'll be needed for the wedding for more days than that, and I was considering while we're there packing our things, bringing them back . . ." He whispered the words, and when silence met him Abe almost questioned if he'd said them aloud.

"
Ja
. We should pack up." She scooted closer, tucking her head under his chin. "There's nothing for us there now . . ."

He was surprised she didn't argue.
She's agreed too easily.
It caused him to pause. It was a big decision to make. Were they making it in haste?

"Yer right, there's nothing for us . . . except for our children. Levi will be married. Our first grandchild is coming. And soon Marianna will be marrying Aaron. I can't guess her to make to next Christmas without a wedding. Are you sure, Ruth? Can you live so far away from them?"

"I—I think we need to be here, uh, in Montana. It's the best for the boys and us. Haven't we been doing better here, Abe?"

Her voice sounded like she was about to cry, and he didn't understand. There was more going on inside his wife. Something she wasn't saying.

She sighed. "But our things . . . How will we ever get them here?"

"It's late, we don't need to figure all that out now."

"No. But tomorrow. Maybe you can talk to Ike. He did say he knew someone who moved the Amish, didn't he?"

Abe nodded. "Tomorrow I'll see what Ike says."

Ruth pressed tighter to him, but even then her soft body stiffened. Despite how close she was to him, her mind seemed far away, in another place.

What could be bothering her so? What would make moving to Montana for good so urgent in her mind?

If anything, Marianna returning and a grandchild coming should make her want to return to their Indiana home. Nothing mattered more to Ruth than her family.

Unless . . .

Something must have changed things. This morning she'd been cheerful and content. Tonight anything but.

The only thing he could think of was her sister's letter. Betsy hadn't written more than two or three times since their move. They'd been short notes, and Ruth had shared Betsy's words over dinner.

But today, after receiving the letter Ruth had been solemn. She hadn't said a word of the letter at dinner. Was there something in the letter that was bothering his wife?

Tomorrow.
Abe allowed his body to sink deeper into the bed and his eyes to flutter closed.
I'll read the letter for myself tomorrow.

Dear Marianna,

The long journey has me weary. The miles have taken their toll, but even in its heaviness my mind can't stop thinking of you. It's strange how I often find myself turning to letters to express myself. I suppose it's become my means of communicating. Strange how I now filter my thoughts through the written word. Pen to paper seems to calm me somehow.

There's an Amish proverb I've been thinking about. You know it, too, no doubt.
The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor the man perfected without trials.
It's an easy one to quote when the warm spring breeze is upon you and the air smells of fields and trees, but the truth is I'd rather have the friction gone for now. The trials aren't from outside. If anything I should be happy that the dream I've held for so long is finally coming true. Tomorrow is a big day.

Instead, the trials are within. In a perfect world I'd be able to share this letter with you. No, let me say that differently. In a perfect world I'd be able to share what's really going on with my words—by looking into your face and speaking my heart.

I picture you at this moment sleeping under a handmade quilt and dreaming of me. I hope that's the case. Tomorrow I'll put on a smile and no one will be the wiser, but tonight I'll still think about you—think about the truth of what I hold inside. A truth that, more than anything, I wish I could confess.

Written by the man who dreams of your smile.

M
arianna entered the Stolls' barn. It was so like Dat's old barn. The scents of the hay and animals, the moist warmth inside despite the crisp air outside . . . it all reminded her of times spent with her father. A twinge traveled through her.