Love Redeemed (2 page)

“I'm sorry. I promise to do better.” Her stomach growled again, like a bear threatening to claw its way out. Embarrassment made the tips of her ears hot. “I'll study hard.”

“Pray hard. Look into your heart and make sure this is something you want to do. To commit to the church and to follow the
Ordnung
for the rest of your life.” Thomas's gaze roved from Phoebe to Molly and Rachel on the girls' side and then, with slow deliberation, to Michael and Daniel. “If you have any doubt in your mind, wait. There'll be another opportunity in the spring.”

His gaze came back to rest on Phoebe. She tried to hold it but faltered. He seemed to know of the turmoil in her head. She wanted to be baptized. She wanted to commit to the church for life. She loved her family and her community. But mostly she wanted to marry, live with her husband on their own farm, and have children. Two things had to happen first. She had to be baptized and she had to somehow get Michael's attention. Hard as the baptism classes were, the first seemed easier than the second. So here she sat outside her family's home, sweating in hundred-degree Missouri weather, hoping to take a step in the right direction on both counts.

“The second sermon is beginning. We need to go in.” Thomas
stretched his long legs out in front of him, his expression somber. “You'll meet with Silas in two weeks. Be sure you keep working through the Dordrecht Confession of Faith. We'll review the seventeenth and eighteenth articles next time. The date for baptism will be set for two weeks before the fall
grossgemme
. Then it will be time for communion, which you will take as members of the church. We should have dates by the next class.”

Baptism and then her first meeting as a member of the church. She would have a vote on changes in the Ordnung. Then her first communion. Phoebe swallowed against the bitter taste in the back of her throat. Her days of rumspringa would be over. Days of slipping out to hear music and watch the big-screen TV over the bar in the little tavern in New Hope would be over. So would riding with her hair down and blowing in the hot wind in their Englisch friend Dylan's convertible on the back roads that wound their way through fields full of rustling cornstalks. Time to grow up. Time to marry and have children. She hoped.

“But in two weeks we'll be at Stockton Lake.” Her voice timid, Molly raised her hand as if she were still in school. “All our families will be there.”

The thought of the lake and swimming and fishing and barbecuing hot dogs and marshmallows and making mountain pies and telling stories in the tent after dark made Phoebe want to stand up and shout hallelujah. She caught herself just in time. Michael's daed had announced his intention to take the whole family as well. She'd have plenty of opportunity to cross paths with Michael morning, noon, and night. To strike up a conversation. Maybe he'd ask her to take a walk in the woods some evening. Maybe. Just maybe.

A nudge from Rachel told her she'd done it again. Quickly, she fixed her gaze on Thomas, who perused the calendar book he always brought with him to the classes.

“You're right. I've lost track of the days.” Frowning, he shoved his hat back on his head. “I'll talk with Luke and Silas about the dates. You'll be told with plenty of time for prayerful consideration.” He stood. “Go. I don't want any of you missing the service.”

No one needed to be told again. Everyone popped up from the benches like wild horses set free from a corral. Rachel and Daniel traipsed ahead of Thomas, pretending they didn't know each other from Adam when everyone in their tight circle of friends knew the two were leaving the singings together on Sunday nights. Phoebe hung back, wanting to give Michael a chance to say something—anything. Molly gave Phoebe a skeptical glance, sighed, and trudged after the others.

A band tightened around Phoebe's heart. The man her friend fancied would marry another in November. At least Phoebe still had hope. As far as she knew, Michael hadn't shone his flashlight in anyone else's window. “Molly, wait.” She slipped over and gave her friend a quick hug so she could whisper in her ear. “You'll meet someone soon. Don't worry.”

“All in God's time, right?” Molly sniffed and swiped at her nose. “For you too, right?”

“Right.” Phoebe patted her back. “You're such a good girl. You'll see. It'll all work out.”

“It always does. God has a plan.” Molly managed a watery smile. “Anyway, I'd better get in there. My
mudder's
waiting. Yours too, I expect.”

“Aren't you coming to the singing tonight?”

“Nee. I don't want to see…him.” Molly swiped at her nose again with the back of her sleeve. Her huge brown eyes fringed with dark lashes—her best feature—were bright and wet behind her brown-rimmed glasses. “I never have a handkerchief when I need one. Anyway, behave, friend. They're watching, you know.”

“I will.”

Molly's funk melted away and she chuckled, a soft, sweet sound that made Phoebe smile. “No you won't, but you
will
try.”

Looking like a chubby pheasant in her dark brown dress, she trudged toward the barn, her head down.

“Cheer up,” Phoebe called. “Everything in its time. Isn't that what they always say?”

Molly flopped one hand in a wave, but she didn't look back.

Phoebe turned to find Michael staring at her, an odd expression on his face. She tugged at her apron, certain her
kapp
needed straightening. “Are you going in?”

What a silly thing to ask. Of course he was. She might as well have commented on the weather.
Hot, isn't it?

Michael stood, his tall, broad frame towering over her. His eyes, the color of the sky on an early spring morning, seemed to pierce her. “Did you understand what Thomas was saying?”

“About
gelassenheit
?” She struggled to organize her thoughts. She'd heard her daed give dozens of sermons on the topic, but she hadn't given it much thought. She'd spent her whole life yielding to a higher authority—mostly Daed's. Still, she'd wanted to talk to Michael. Even if she didn't get to pick the topic. “I think so. We're supposed to yield to the will of God and be content about it.”

“I wonder how we're supposed to know what His will is.” Michael cocked his head, his forehead wrinkled under his Sunday service hat. Tufts of his dark—almost black—hair escaped under the brim. “Do you ever wonder that?”

Phoebe generally left the talk of religion to those who understood these things better. She only knew what she felt. She might be hotheaded and hot-blooded by her folks' standards, but she loved her Lord God and she loved her community in a speechless bigger-than-her sort of way. She was in a hurry, that was all. Her mudder said she had always been that way for the entire nineteen years of her life. Learning to walk and talk earlier than her
bruders
and
schweschders
. Learning to read sooner. Speaking English first. Always running to school instead of walking.

“Nee, not really.” She traced a line in the dirt with the toe of her shoe. “I just do the best I can. I figure He'll do the rest.”

Michael smiled then, a brief smile so breathtaking Phoebe forgot how to move. She forgot how to breathe. She forgot the two languages she knew how to speak. Her mudder's voice entreated her to always remember
Gott watches. Gott knows.

Before she could say anything or do anything, Michael started toward the barn. Her opportunity slipped through her fingers once again. “Michael, wait.”

His long-legged pace slowed. He glanced back. “We don't want to miss the sermon.”

“Your family is going to Stockton Lake?”

“Jah.”
He halted and turned. “Yours too?”

“Jah.”

The pause lengthened.
Say something, say something.
She really wanted Michael to say the something that would lead to the next step. Whatever that next step turned out to be. She had no experience with this. Instead, he fixed her with a perplexed look as if he had no idea, either. “Then I guess we'll see each other there.”

“I guess we will.”

He shifted from one foot to the other. She did the same. “Maybe we—”

“We could—”

“What's going on here?” Phoebe's daed strode toward them, his tall, wiry body backlit by the sun. At first she couldn't see his expression, but she heard the surefire irk in his words. “Phoebe, get yourself into the service. Now.”

“Nothing's going on—”

“Go.”

“Daed—”

“Phoebe.”

The command in his voice sent her scurrying toward the barn. His gaze icy, he moved aside so she could pass. She'd finally exchanged more than two words with Michael, and her father was about to break the slim thread between them. “Daed, please.” She poured all the entreaty she could muster into the words. “We were just talking.”

“When you should've been listening to the sermon.”

She risked one last glance at Michael. He looked the same as always. Untroubled. Shoulders broad enough to bear the weight of the world. “I'm sorry. I had a question about the lesson,” he said. He wrapped his fingers around his suspenders, his expression earnest. “I held up Phoebe, thinking she could help me figure it out.”

Her daed's glare faded a little. “You should ask those questions of Thomas.” The growl in his voice dissolved. “Or me.”

“I will.”

The two men seemed to size each other up.

Michael didn't know her daed all that well. If he did, he'd look a whole lot more worried.

Chapter 2

P
hoebe took the dirty plate Hannah offered and dipped it in the tub of dishwater, swished it around, and applied elbow grease with the dishcloth. When her brothers and their
fraas
stayed for supper, the stack of dirty dishes on the counter certainly took its sweet time in getting clean. They'd gone on home to do evening chores, leaving the sisters to do the cleanup. She didn't mind, though. Washing dishes gave her time to think. Time to daydream. She rubbed an itchy spot on her nose with the back of her sleeve and stared out the window above the tub. The sun still hung above the horizon. She loved these long summer evenings that stretched endlessly. Full of opportunity for fun and frolic. What was Michael doing right now? Getting ready for the singing? She hoped so.

Maybe this would be the night when he finally asked her if he could walk her to the door. The disadvantage of having the singing at their house meant he wouldn't need to give her a ride home. Of course, they could take a buggy ride. The destination didn't matter. She sighed, already feeling the night air cooling her warm cheeks in a rush as the horse picked up speed at Michael's urging.

The thought of a cool breeze led her to the thought of Stockton Lake. The photographs in the brochure Daed had received in the mail danced in her mind's eye. Four whole days by the water. Four whole
days with no chores other than cooking and washing dishes and taking care of the
kinner
. Plenty of time to cross paths with Michael.

The lake would be perfect. She could almost smell the hamburgers sizzling on the grill and feel the leaves under her bare feet and hear the lap of the water against the shore. She inhaled, thinking for a moment she would smell mountain pies cooking over the open fire. Instead she breathed in burned pork chops. Her contribution to Sunday supper.

“The more you daydream, girl, the colder the water gets.” Mudder's brisk voice startled Phoebe. The slick, wet plate in her hand nearly ended up at the bottom of the tub. “Wake up or the job will never be done.”

Mudder picked up the kettle on the stove and brought it to the tub, her round body forcing Phoebe to move aside. Steam billowed from the kettle as she poured. “Hannah, go sweep the floor around the tables. Lydia made a big mess with the bread. And take a washrag. Sarah has apple butter all over her hands and face. Wipe her down and get her out of her highchair. Then take the two of them upstairs and get them ready for bed. Your daed and I want to talk with your sister.”

Phoebe swiveled. Sure enough, Daed stood in the doorway, his hands on his narrow hips. A curious look on her freckled face, Hannah dropped the towel she was using to dry the dishes, tossed a damp washrag over her shoulder, and grabbed the broom. At twelve, she knew better than to ask questions. She ducked past Daed and disappeared through the door.

Daed had laugh lines on his laugh lines. Even with his sun-beaten skin and the start of wrinkles around his blue eyes, he had a pleasing face. Even Phoebe could see that. Now, no laughter lit his blue eyes. Stern lines weighed down his mouth. She'd seen that look before. Almost always directed at her.

“I'm sorry I burned the pork chops. I got distracted when Lydia spilled the pan of green beans she was snapping.” Phoebe twisted the washcloth between her hands. Apologize before he could chastise. It had served her well in the past. “The pie turned out fine even though I left it in the oven a tad too long.”

Daed strode across the kitchen to the counter. He poured himself
a glass of sweet tea, but he didn't take a drink. He set the glass down hard enough that the tea sloshed over the side. “Your cooking would be fine if you would pay more attention and stop mooning around all the time. You've been neglecting your chores lately.”

“Silas, can we sit and talk?” Mudder squeezed into a chair at the pine prep table and folded her hands together on top. She never sat until the supper chores were done. Phoebe's stomach rocked, making her wish she hadn't eaten the tough pork chop and fried potatoes. Mudder had that disappointed look on her face she always had during these conversations. “Calmly.”

“Jah, jah.” Daed cleared his throat, but he remained standing a few feet from Phoebe. He towered over her, making her feel as if she was still five or six. Just like always. “It's not just the chores. You're not applying yourself to the baptism classes.”