The Bridge of Peace (10 page)

“Ya.” Grey took his hat from the coatrack. “It wouldn’t do for anyone to think we’re less than perfect.” Sunlight and cool air filled his senses when he stepped outside, but as he continued to fight and grumble with his wife, he seemed less able to enjoy the simple things. He went to the barn, got the horse out of the stall, and began harnessing her.

At the start of their marriage, only a few feet had separated them. Normal things—like not knowing or understanding each other’s ways in certain areas—but he’d expected love to override those things. Wasn’t embracing someone else’s faults part of what friends did for each other? And marriage was supposed to be the best friendship of all.

His wife’s shadow fell across the dirt floor of the barn. He led the horse and carriage toward her. Ivan stood beside her as she held a basket filled with cheese. “Whatever is going on inside that heart of yours, I can’t go on living like this. Something has to change.”

She started toward the buggy. “We need to go.”

“Does anything I want even matter to you?”

Stopping abruptly, she lowered her gaze. “If you could just accept …”

He took the basket from her and set it inside the carriage. Was she waiting on him to finish her sentence like the other Benjamin Graber could for his wife? He had no clue what she might say. Back when they’d been married only a couple of months, he realized that he didn’t understand her at all, because when she’d told him she was pregnant, he was excited. She wasn’t.

After Ivan was born, she’d become distant and temperamental. He’d tried to help her by sharing her load of the work, making her breakfasts, and spending extra time with her. He didn’t know if those things helped her, but within a year she was doing better. They began sharing a bed again. When their second son was stillborn, the grief had been unbearable. By the time the intensity of their pain began to lift, he realized the distance between them was vast.

Elsie raised her eyes to his. “I made a vow to never tell you.”

“Ivan.” Grey pointed to the swing set in their backyard and told him to go play until he called him.

Ivan looked up at his mother. She didn’t allow playing outside on Sundays until the afternoon. She said nothing, and he hurried toward the house.

“Whatever your secret, you’ve done a good job of keeping it. Too good. And if you knew how sick I am of how we live, you’d shout the secret from the rooftop.”

She looked steely cold as she shrugged, and Grey wanted to shake her.

Slowly she went toward the buggy. “We’ll be late.”

“I don’t care!”

She jolted, and embarrassment engraved itself on her face. He drew a breath and tried to keep his tone civil. “I may not be much of a husband in your eyes, but answer me this: don’t I at least deserve to know what stands between us?”

She rubbed the center of her forehead. “Okay,” she whispered. “I … I’ve always feared that the truth would finish destroying what little love you have for me.”

He studied her, seeing raw ache under all her layers of organized perfection. Did the pain come from losing one son? Or from being married to Grey? As her husband, he should know. “What truth?”

“You know it, Grey. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“For the love of my sanity, Elsie, please stop talking in circles.”

“Fine. You want to make me say it aloud? You want to make me take the blame? Then I will. We can’t have more children. We
must
not. Not ever.”

Alarm rang inside him, warning him not to let this conversation end until he understood. “Why?”

“Don’t be absurd. You know why.”

As he struggled to grasp what she meant, he took her by the arm. “Tell me why.”

She pulled away. “Can’t you see it? Ivan is missing part of one arm, and he … he’s slow. When our second son was stillborn, the midwife told me something genetic was probably wrong with him. I can’t … I won’t have a family of children with physical and mental issues because I want to be with you. That’s selfish.”

Barely able to breathe, Grey leaned against a nearby wall for support. This was what separated them? He’d imagined hundreds of reasons over the years but never once thought of this.

Elsie moved to him. “I know I’m not an easy woman to love. And I’m not sure what I expected to happen to us when I started shutting you out, but I’ve only wanted to spare you.”

He felt sure he should have compassion for her, but he didn’t. “I had the right to know what caused you to behave as you do.”

“Why? So you could change my mind, only for us to have another child that broke our hearts?”

“Ivan did not break my heart. He’s a strong, healthy boy. And I don’t think he’s slow, not like that. And even if he is, no part of me enjoys him any less. Besides, what do you want from him? To be perfect? Like who? You? Me? May God spare him from our type of perfection, Elsie.”

Needing to get away from her, he walked outside. He looked toward the house, making sure the best part of the last six years was still safe inside their yard. His little boy’s blond hair shined like a white pillowcase in the sun. His hat lay on the ground, and his belly was on the seat of the swing as he dragged his lone hand lightly across the dirt.

Elsie walked to where he stood.

Grey couldn’t even look at her. “You locked me out of your heart and our bedroom because you decided that was the best solution. You didn’t ask your husband or the church leaders. Didn’t seek out medical advice. Didn’t try to ease my loneliness by being honest. You did exactly as you chose.” He turned to look her in the eyes.

“Grey, that’s … that’s not fair.”

He pointed at her. “You do not have the right to talk to me about what’s fair!” As he stood in his driveway yelling at his wife, Grey hated himself, hated who he’d become. For years he’d wanted them to talk, and now he couldn’t gain control of his rage.

Studying him, their home, and their son, she seemed to waver in her position, as if some small bit of what he’d said might have merit. Part of him wanted to shake her. Part of him wished he could embrace her … and never let go.

He went toward the house. All these years he’d thought she didn’t love him. He’d been convinced she regretted marrying him. He stopped and went back to her. “And it’s not true. We do not have some defect that caused Ivan to have a deformed arm or caused our other son to be stillborn. It’s not us. Not you. Not me. Not who we are together. Those things just happen sometimes. That’s all.” He walked away again.

Elsie grabbed him by the arm. “It
is
true. Do you think I’d pull away from you if I didn’t believe it? I’m trapped between a husband I love and a body that bears unsound children. Will you hold what I’ve done against me?”

“You’ve made our lives miserable, Elsie. And you had no right.”

Tears fell, and she swiped them away. “Tell Ivan it’s time for us to go.”

Grey stared at her, remembering a hundred church Sundays of riding side by side while engulfed in loneliness and silence. Nothing carried weight like emptiness did. And it had stood between them most of their married years. Would they finally get to this point of her sharing her burden, regardless of how wrong she’d been, only to start over in the same dark, horrid place? “Why would you do this to us based on a guess?”

Her face was taut as she pursed her lips. “I … I … can’t.”

As he studied her, he saw more than just her failure. He saw his own. His mind churned with memories, and he knew he’d made it too easy for her to shut him out. And his anger eased.

At twenty-seven, Elsie had lines of weariness creasing her face, and in that moment he felt the depth of her struggle to speak, and the heaviness of the guilt she felt, and the pain of the fears that rested on her day and night.

“We need help, Elsie.”

“There’s no help. There’s only putting one foot in front of the other. You know that.”

He used to think her no-nonsense personality would keep him straight. Now he’d give about anything to be able to get past that. “So you’ve stopped believing in hope altogether?” Ivan’s voice carried on the wind as he sang loudly. Elsie’s eyes moved to Grey’s, and they shared a moment of parenting pleasure. They knew he was singing to God, not as a worship-type song, but as entertainment
for
God.

She watched their son, her eyes filling with tears. “You know that I … I have an aunt in Ohio … who … has five children with birth defects. After Ivan was born, she said that whatever is wrong with her, I must have the same thing.” Tears trailed down her face.

Maybe she was right. Maybe they couldn’t have completely healthy children. As his confidence waned, he reached out to put his arms around her.

She backed away. “I’m sorry for the way it is.”

“We can’t live on just a notion of yours. We never should have, and I won’t let it continue. We’ve got to know for sure about Ivan, about our DNA. And then we’ll make decisions from there.”

She cleared her throat and gave a weak nod. “Don’t, Grey. Please. The answers will not give us peace. It’ll only bury the rest of what hope you have.”

“I won’t let fear stop us.”

“Then truth will, and you will learn that I’m right.”

Nothing they discovered would be any harder than coping with her years of silence.

Ivan hollered to them, asking why they weren’t going to church.

They’d be more than thirty minutes late to a three-hour service, but Grey wanted to go. He had hope that it might offer some nugget to help him and Elsie.

Nine

After ringing the doorbell, Cara brushed strands of hair off her forehead. While waiting on the woman to answer the door, she surveyed her work. What had been an overgrown yard hours ago now looked manicured. She’d mowed and weeded. Lori had worked too. While they were hauling clippings and weeds to the mulch pit, Cara finally told her about the item they were working for—a beautiful bicycle.

She wasn’t sure which Lori was the most excited about, the bike or the fact that they were working side by side to earn it.

The elderly woman came out of her home, eyes bright with appreciation. “Just look at this place.” She turned to Lori. “You’re a lucky little girl to have a mama who’d do all this for a bike.”

Lori put her arms around Cara’s waist and hugged her.

The woman motioned. “Come on. It’s right inside the garage.” They went down the steps. “I’m sure that’s the last the yard will need for the season, but if you’re around next spring and are interested in making money, stop on by. I have a yard boy, but by the time he can get here every few weeks, I need someone to bale hay rather than mow grass.”

“It might be a good extra job for me, but I don’t know right now. We can talk about it next spring, okay?”

“Sounds good.” The woman went to a keypad and punched in several numbers, and the garage door opened. Motioning for Lori to follow her, she walked inside. “There it is.”

Lori’s eyes grew huge as she gaped at her mother. “It’s … it’s perfect!” She grabbed it by the handlebars and ran outside. The purple and pink metallic swirls glittered under the rays of sunlight. “Oh, Mom, this is just too cool.” She straddled it and put her feet on the pedals. The bike fell to one side, and Lori jolted, putting her feet back on the concrete. “Teach me how to ride this thing.”

Her daughter’s excited voice rang out as she waved at the woman. “Thank you.” Lori put her feet on the pedals again, and the wheels started turning.

Cara grabbed the bike’s seat and smiled at the woman. “I … I better go.”

The woman laughed. “I guess you better. Bye for now.”

Cara ran on the sidewalk beside Lori, trying to give helpful instructions for how to find her balance. By the time they’d gone around the block once, Cara could let go of the seat for several seconds at a time. As they made their way around the block a second time, Cara only grabbed it when Lori was about to fall. Finally she released her and clapped as Lori rode about fifty feet before stopping herself.

Cara trotted to where she was. “That’s great, honey. You are so good at this.” They worked their way around the block for the third time, and as they approached Ada’s House, she noticed two Amish men in front of the place, watching her.

Lori came to them first and stopped. Cara couldn’t hear what her daughter was saying, but she could tell by her movements she was showing them her bike.

As Cara approached, she recognized them. One was a preacher from right here in Hope Crossing. The other was a bishop for several Amish communities: Dry Lake, Hope Crossing, and some other Amish district Cara wasn’t familiar with. But he lived in Hope Crossing.

Cara straightened her prayer Kapp and tried to tuck loose strands of hair back into place before she stopped in front of them. “Hello.”

“Hi, Cara.”

She looked at the bishop. “I thought you’d be at the service in Dry Lake.”

“I often am. Each district has visiting preachers from time to time, and they had plenty of preachers for today, so I stayed home. I went to the door, but it seems Deborah and Ada aren’t here.”

“They’re attending the service in Dry Lake.”

The bishop nodded as if that answered all sorts of questions he had. “Can we speak to you alone for a bit?”