Faithful to Laura (11 page)

Adam let her go and took a few steps back. His breath quickened, and even in the dim light of the lantern she could see his hazel eyes had darkened. The way he gazed at her stirred a desire and deepening love she’d never felt before.

She wanted to feel that way for the rest of her life.

C
HAPTER
9

“I thought you should be the first to know,
Mamm
.”

“I see.”

He’d run all the way from Emma’s, unable to contain his excitement that she’d finally agreed to marry him. But when he told his mother, she reacted with two words and a frown.

“That’s it?” he asked.

Suddenly her face changed, as if an invisible voice had spoken in her ear. She took Adam’s hand. “I’m sorry,
lieb
. Congratulations.”

Adam shifted in his chair. Her eyes still held a faraway look.

As if she was here with him, yet wasn’t. “But?”

She looked away.

“Mamm
.” He squeezed her hand. “Tell me what’s going on?”

“
Nix
. Only . . .” She once again met his gaze. “I hope you’re sure she is the one for you.”

“She is. She always has been. I’ve been too hardheaded to realize it until I came back home.” He grinned, wanting her to share in his happiness.

She pulled her hand away. “Just make sure you want to spend the rest of your life with her. Through
gut
times . . . and bad.” Before he could respond, she finally smiled. “Have you set a date yet?”

“In the next few weeks. Probably in January, after Christmas.”

“A winter wedding?”

“Ya.”
He studied her for a moment. “Is that all right?”

“Your
daed
and I . . . we married in January too.”

Why did she mention something Adam already knew? “We can change the date.”

She shook her head. “
Nee
. You should marry when you want. Does Leona know?”

“By now, probably. I imagine Emma’s already told her.

Other than her sister, we’re not telling anyone else.”

“Even your
daed
?”

Adam rubbed his palms against his thighs. “I don’t know.

Should I?” When it came to wedding planning, usually the women took over that part. There wasn’t a real need for his father to know about the engagement right now. Adam knew of couples who revealed their engagement to their families only at the last minute.

“Telling your
daed
is your decision. Not mine.” She rose and went to the sink.

“Mamm . . .”
The words died on his tongue as he saw her wiping her cheeks with her hands. “You’re crying.”

Her shoulders dipped. Even her
kapp
, which normally looked crisp and starched, seemed to droop. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She fled from the room.

Adam leaned against the counter, dumbfounded. Whatever was wrong with his mother, it was getting worse.

Carol ran upstairs with tears streaming down her face. She had tried to be strong, to put on a brave front while she was crumbling inside. But her emotions were taking over. She couldn’t keep up the façade anymore.

She had lied to her son. Over and over. Something she’d never done before, with anyone, much less her only child.

She sat on the bed and closed her eyes, and the memories came flooding back. The afternoon she had gone to see Mary Shetler, just a few days before she died. She had paused unseen in the doorway, waiting for Mary to finish talking to Leona. Her heart broke at the sight of her best friend’s pain. The way Mary reached for Leona. Clung to her hand.

And confessed what had happened between her and Norman.

Carol rubbed the sore place at the base of her neck. Mary’s words had been almost incoherent, but she’d caught a few of them. Enough.
Guilt
.
Betrayal. Kiss
.

She fled before either woman knew she was there.

In that instant, her heart turned numb.

But she couldn’t lay all the blame at her husband’s feet.

She had to bear some of the burden for his loneliness. They had grown apart, especially beneath the strain of Adam and Norman’s broken relationship.

She tried to be loyal to her son while loving his father. But so often she had failed. She had withdrawn into herself. Norman, too, had pulled away and sought solace elsewhere—in the arms of her best friend.

Was Mary’s cancer a punishment for that? Carol didn’t want to believe that God could be so harsh, and yet she couldn’t fathom God’s judgment. No one could.

Mary had died not knowing that Carol had discovered her secret.

Discovered the secret, and kept it.

And that secret scraped away at Carol’s soul, one agonizing layer at a time.

All she wanted was to forget. But nothing gave her release.

The knowledge festered inside her, eating away at her like cancer, killing her soul as surely as Mary’s cancer had destroyed her body. Carol tended the pain, groomed it with the attention of a master gardener.

Carol knew she had to forgive both Norman and Mary. It was the Amish way. It was God’s way. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to that point, not deep inside, where it mattered.

She couldn’t bear to confront Norman about his failure as a husband. If she did, she would have to confront her own failure as a wife.

Adam left the house and headed for the barn. How could his father be so oblivious to his mother’s pain? This time he would make his father listen and pay attention. Not just about his upcoming wedding, but about the problems with
Mamm
.

Inside the barn, the gas lamps cast everything in a sickly yellow light. The animals were already fed and settled in for the night. His father was in the corner, raking the dirt floor. A useless task. His father never wasted time.

“Daed.”

Norman didn’t look up.

“We need to talk. Now.”

His father lifted his gaze. “Now, you say?”

“
Ya
. That’s exactly what I said.”

“I’m busy.” He started raking again.

“Too busy to talk to your
sohn
?”

“It will have to wait.”

Adam stepped forward, his hands clenched. “Too busy to be worried about your
fraa
too?”

Norman tossed the rake aside and put his hands on his hips.

“
Geh
ahead. Talk. I’m listening.”

“Emma and I are getting married.”

Norman’s lips thinned. “What?”

“I asked her to marry me. She said yes.”

His father sucked in a breath. He looked away and touched his forehead with his thumb and middle finger, nudging his hat askew. “Did you tell your
mudder
?”

“Ya.”

“What did she say?”

“Not much.”

He paused, then frowned. “You aren’t ready for marriage.”

Adam unclenched his fists. “I love Emma. She’s going to be my wife. Whether you and
Mamm
like it or not.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand. I thought you would both be happy for me.”

“I can’t be happy with a foolish decision.”

Adam stepped forward. “How is marrying the woman I love foolish?”

Daed
didn’t flinch. “How do you know you love her?”

“I know. And I don’t have to explain it to you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t believe this. Our families have been friends and neighbors since Emma and I were children.

Emma and I were—are—best friends. Yet you and
Mamm
are acting like I want to marry a stranger.”

“You’ve been back in Middlefield for, what, two months?”

His father shook his head. “You nearly died a few weeks ago.

This decision is rash.”

“If anything, what’s happened to me since I came back to Middlefield brought me to the right decision. I should never have left. I wasn’t happy in the Yankee world.”

“You weren’t happy being Amish either.”

“But I am now.” He stepped toward his dad. “I’ve changed.

God has forgiven me. The church has welcomed me back. Emma has agreed to be
mei fraa
. Why is none of that
gut
enough for you?”

His father didn’t say anything. His gaze shifted, past Adam’s shoulder. Adam turned around to see what he was looking at.

The only thing behind them was the inside of the barn.

“What did you do while you lived in Michigan?”

Adam turned back to his dad. “It doesn’t matter.”

“
Ya
, it does. Did you have a
maedel
? A Yankee girlfriend?”

Adam’s stomach turned.
“Ya.”

“Does Emma know?”

He swallowed. “She doesn’t need to. It’s—”

“In the past.” His father’s chin dipped as the corners of his eyes sagged. “Adam, were you with that girl?”

“With her?”

“I doubt you were innocent while you were gone. Your exact words, as I recall, were that you were determined to ‘be your own
mann
and live life by your rules, not God’s and not the Amish.’ Do you remember telling me that?”

“More than once.” Adam bit the inside of his cheek.

“I know what that means, especially when it comes to women.”

Adam’s mouth dropped open as he realized what his father was saying. Heat crept up his neck. He should tell the old man to mind his business. But he couldn’t.

His father was right. Adam couldn’t change the subject, ignore it, or, worse, deny what happened. Still, the humiliation he felt made it next to impossible to get the words out. “Twice.

I slept with her twice.”

Disapproval seeped into his father’s eyes, making Adam feel lower than the dirt beneath his feet. “Were you ever going to tell Emma?”