Love Redeemed (37 page)

“You want to take a walk?”

“What?”

“Truth be told, I'm not that hungry and I'm tired of sitting. I'd like to stretch my legs.”

Her mind froze. She wasn't hungry either, but she'd just said she had to help with the serving. There were at least three or four dozen women to do the serving. They would do it in shifts. Nothing said she couldn't take a later shift.

Was she really considering doing this? It wasn't bad. She was moving on. Trying to move on.

The image of Sophie sitting in the booth smiling up at Michael played in a continuous loop in her head, keeping her awake at night. Her throat closed up. She glanced around. No one would notice. They were too busy visiting. She had no responsibilities in this moment. Hannah had been charged with watching Sarah, along with the other girls who would mind the kinner while the older girls helped with the serving.

Anything to get out of this crush of people. Anything to get away from the words of the wedding ceremony still ringing in her ears. Anything to blot out the image of Michael smiling down at Sophie. She had to move on, whether she liked it or not. God's plan. “Truth be told, I'm not that hungry either.”

Richard's grin stretched across his face. He had that nice smile. No dimples. Just a solid jaw and full lips. Dark brown eyes.

“This way.” He angled toward the road and the long line of buggies that stretched endlessly ahead of them. “You seem better.”

“I am better.”

“I'm glad.”

They walked in silence past horses that nickered and went back to
eating grass in the meadow across from the buggies. The wind whistled out of the north and she shivered.

“Winter's here.”

“It is.”

“I should've waited while you went in to get your shawl.”

“I'm fine.”

They continued to walk, the only sound the horses and the squawk of birds arguing in the trees over head.

“I've never found this to be so hard.” He doffed his hat and scratched at his thick brown hair. “Talking to a girl, I mean.”

“Me either.” She chuckled, in spite of herself. “I mean, it's not usually this hard for me to talk to a man. Not that I talk to a lot of them.”

He laughed outright. “I knew what you meant. I moved to Bliss Creek later. We didn't have all that time growing up together. Makes it harder, I expect.”

“But your aunt and uncle have lived in Bliss Creek forever. Michael's your cousin; that makes you one of us.”

“I'm related…” His gaze drifted ahead of them. “Someone's coming.”

She followed his gaze. A horse and buggy came toward them at a pretty good clip. Who was it? The entire New Hope Plain community, along with their visitors from Bliss Creek, had already gathered at Peter's farm. She strained to see who was driving. Was that Daniel? No, he'd been in the barn for the wedding.

“Is that…” Richard frowned. “It's Michael. I guess he came home. Onkel Peter didn't mention it.”

Phoebe stopped in the middle of the road. The buggy gained on them quickly. It was Michael, indeed. He'd missed the wedding, but still, here he was. Finally.

Michael pulled up on the reins and the buggy slowed. It slowed some more as it reached them until it stopped in front of them, blocking the road. Richard spoke first. “Welcome back, cousin.”

Michael didn't answer, but he nodded, his gaze on Phoebe, his expression bleak. She stared back at him. She didn't owe him any explanations. It was broad daylight on a dirt road on his cousin's farm. He'd been gone almost five months.

“I'm late for the wedding.” His tone revealed nothing. “I best get on up to the house.”

Richard stepped aside. She should move too, but she couldn't seem to lift her feet. “Michael.”

“Move.” Michael snapped the reins as if for punctuation. The pulse in his jaw leaped. His gaze roved beyond her, never connecting. It was as if she'd been grazed by the blade of a newly sharpened knife, passing so near it drew blood. “Please.”

She managed to pick up her feet. They felt as if they weighed ten pounds each. Moving like an old woman, she trudged to the side of the road. Richard followed. The buggy moved past them. “I'm glad you're back.” She whispered the words. “Finally.”

The buggy rocked and whipped forward as if pushed by a violent wind. Her words were lost in the clatter of the wheels and the clip-clop of the hooves. Dust whipped up and clouded the back of the buggy, making it seem as if it disappeared into a fog.

“Seems my cousin is in a hurry.” Richard's tone was soft. It reminded her of the way her daed talked to the horses when something spooked them. “I imagine he feels he has amends to make with quite a few folks. Especially you.”

“Nee.” A shiver wracked her. Michael was the one who'd started up with another. Not her. She only wanted to take a walk, breathe the fresh air. And not be so alone for a few minutes. “It's fine.”

“It's not fine. You don't deserve it.”

“I don't know.” She glanced back at the buggy moving away at a fast clip, dust billowing behind it. “I should probably go back and help with the serving.”

“You will.” His hand touched her arm and drew her back into the road, gently, but with determination. “First we walk and you talk.”

The sad tale of her trip with Daniel to Springfield became no less dreary with the telling. Richard didn't say anything after she finished. He veered toward the tree line and the creek. She kept up easily with his smooth stride, as if he tailored his steps to hers. Heated by her exertion, she now welcomed the northerly breeze. Richard ducked under
a tree branch and then held it up for her. The stream gurgled ahead of them. “Aren't you going to say something?”

“I imagine you've had your fill of people telling you what you should feel and how you should act. Truth is there's nothing I can say to make it better.” He weaved between two oaks and trudged ahead. “Truth be told, I'm not sure I want to make it better.”

It might be the truth, but somehow she wished he would try harder. “What do you mean?”

“It's not like I'm out here tramping around in the cold for my health.”

The truth of his words—the obviousness of it—hit her. “
Ach
, Richard.”

He tramped ahead of her, not looking back.

“You knew I went to Springfield.”

“Jah.”

“Yet you asked me to take a walk.”

“You went to bring a friend back to his faith and his community.” He paused on the banks of the creek, staring down at the rush of water, its burbling loud in the quiet. “That's what I heard.”

“That's true. But there's more.” She followed him down to the edge, close enough that her Sunday service shoes sank in the mud. “I wanted to…there was more to it. You knew what was between Michael and me. What happened to us and why.”

“I know.” He cut across the creek bank and headed for some rocks that made a natural bridge. “I hoped maybe you got your answer and were ready to go on with your life as he has done.”

“Seeing him with someone else only made me feel…more.”

Richard's gaze traveled beyond her, looking back as if seeking something. “I reckon that's how Michael feels about now.”

His point pierced her to the bone. “I don't think so. He has her.”

“He came back, didn't he?”

So he had. “He did, but I don't know why or for how long.”

“We'd best get back to the house.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

She did know why. Her walk with Richard Bontrager needed to end. For his sake as much as hers.

Michael strode between the clusters of people visiting outside the house. He needed to find Deborah and Abel, offer his congratulations, and then go. He couldn't be here. It had been a mistake to come. His father's words of advice rang in his head.
Leave her be.
He'd had every intention of following Daed's command. It wasn't his fault she'd been right there on the road, between the wedding celebration and him.

She and Richard. A good man. His cousin. A man Michael respected and liked. She would be better off with a man like Richard.

He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to walk around the creek with her. He wanted to inhale the scent of her. He wanted to know everything about her.

It had been a mistake to come back. If he'd stayed in Springfield, he might have been able to build something new with Sophie. He liked her. He could've learned to love her. Nee, not fair to her. She deserved a man who loved her first, loved her only.

Besides, he couldn't give up his faith and his family and his community. That would be a terrible price to pay in order to distance himself from a woman he loved. One he would come to regret—and a marriage could not be built on regret.

He squeezed through the tables in the front room of Onkel Peter's house. Aenti Helen rushed by him, a platter of roast and stuffing in her hands. Emma Shirack followed behind, carrying mashed potatoes and a basket of rolls. He trailed after them until they arrived at the wedding table. Deborah and Abel were seated among friends, laughing and eating but looking dazed.

“You're here.” Deborah clapped her hands. “You made it. I'm so glad. It's so good to see you.”

“I'm not staying.”

“You're leaving town again?”

“Nee, nee,” he stammered. “I mean, I wanted to tell you and Abel congratulations. I'm not feeling well, so I'm going to head out.”

“
Ach
, sit a bit. Have some food, you'll feel better. You have to have cake. There's going to be singing and games and more food.”

“Enjoy. It's your day. I mean that.” He patted his nonexistent belly. “Something didn't sit right. I don't want to spoil the day.”

She tilted her head and frowned. “You do look a little peaked, now that I look at you.”

“Sorry. I'll see you when you come visiting. I know Mudder has a nice little surprise for you—for your new house in Bliss Creek.”

“That's so nice. We'll be visiting until after Thanksgiving, and then we'll head to Bliss Creek.” Her smile disappeared. “I'll miss you, Daniel, Rachel, Molly…”

“And Phoebe. You can say her name, you know.”

“I didn't know if you were still…”

“This is your day. I won't spoil it.”

“Nothing could.” She slid back into her seat next to Abel, who looked at her with puppy dog eyes. Did all men in love look like that on their wedding day? Most likely he would never know. “You'll see. You'll find out for yourself some day.”

He didn't want to argue with the bride on her wedding day. “We'll see.”

“Michael.”

He turned at the sound of his name. Thomas waved his big hand. “Come.”

It wasn't a request. He said his goodbyes and followed Thomas through the kitchen and out the back door. Fewer folks congregated in this area. Thomas headed for a picnic table beyond a massive barbecue grill. “Sit.”

He sat. What else could he do? Thomas was not only a good friend to his daed, but the community's deacon. “I'm glad you're back.” Thomas flattened both big hands on the weather-beaten, graying wooden table. “Tobias came by this morning and told me. He asked me to speak with you.”

“Jah.”

Thomas didn't say anything. The silence stretched, making the skin on the back of Michael's neck prickle. He shifted in his seat. The sun dipped behind clouds scudding across the sky. The wind picked up, sending a shiver through him. Hard to believe Thanksgiving would be next week. Winter. They might get snow by then.

He glanced at Thomas. The man's dark eyes were warm behind his gold-rimmed glasses. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I think you know.”

“My daed wants me to leave Phoebe alone.”

“This isn't about Phoebe.”

He chewed the inside of his lip. “Baptism, then.”

“Jah, and whether you think the months you spent in the city changed the way you feel about baptism.”

The memories of Sophie's smiling face and Timothy in the batter's box and Crystal sipping from her Kansas City Chiefs cup and grimacing at the thick, black sludge her uncle called coffee warred with the dark nights and the smell of garbage in the motel parking lot and the incessant noise. “If anything, the things that happened to me—the things I did or didn't do—those things made me more sure.”

Thomas's face broke into a broad grin. “Good to hear. Very good.”

“It's too late for this year, isn't it? You've already had the baptisms and communion.”

“We can consider baptisms for spring communion, before Easter.”

That gave him four months to figure out if he could do it. Could he commit himself to a God who didn't answer his prayers the way he wanted them—needed them—to be answered? Could he live here within a stone's throw of the girl he loved, knowing she'd moved on? Why had she come to Springfield to convince him to return, if she really had moved on? And why didn't Daniel tell him? Why would his best friend let him walk—drive—into the most awkward and hurtful of situations without saying a word?