Chapter Thirty-Eight
Joseph had it in mind to love his wife to sleep. He wanted her exhausted, so there was no chance that she’d wake and find him gone in the night. He’d noticed the reflected light of the ill-concealed still on his way back up the mountain, and he intended to put an end to Edward’s immediate access to alcohol once and for all.
“What are you thinking about?” Priscilla asked as he pressed her back against the pillows.
“You,” he whispered.
“No secrets, Joseph, remember?”
“Nee . . .”
He kissed her slowly, coming back to the moment. “No secrets.” He trailed his lips down the line of her white throat and slipped an arm beneath her, feeling her shiver with pleasure.
He loved the sense of her slightness against him and bent to run his tongue over the soft warmth of her breast, dampening the gown that clung to her, until she shifted restlessly, arching against him.
“I think you’re too anxious, my
frau
.” He smiled down at her.
She clutched his arms, her eyes half-closed. “Please, Joseph . . .”
“Not yet, my sweet. Slow. There’s heightened pleasure if you learn to go slow.”
She whimpered when he turned his attention to her other breast, lavishing it with all the intentness of someone licking ice cream from the tip of a cone.
“Mmm . . . you make me feel delicious,” she sighed.
“And so you are.”
Priscilla loved the emerald gold glow of his eyes when he loved her. He looked like a big cat and moved with easy grace in their bed, turning her with lithe strength until they were both kneeling upright. She leaned her back against the oaken hardness of his chest while he ran his large, clever hands up and down her front until she wanted to beg him to stop . . . start . . . do something and anything. She felt so small near him but also confident, and reached behind her back to rub his thighs with questing fingers.
“Priscilla . . .” he choked.
“What?” She feigned innocence, then giggled when he gave her a sudden nip on the back of her neck. Then he turned once more, pulling her beneath him, his beautiful face taking on shadows from the light of the lamp as he moved above her.
She threaded her fingers through his dark hair, then arched to twine her arms around his neck, loving the forest and sunshine scent of him.
“I love you,” he whispered, his eyes glowing and then closing in pleasure.
“And I love you too, Joseph King.”
He could tell that he left Priscilla more than sated and quietly slipped from the bed once she’d fallen asleep, to dress and grab a lantern and a sledgehammer. He left a mournful Bear behind at the cabin door and started through the woods.
It was a bright summer night and the moon’s glow led him easily to the track down the mountain. Then he was in denser forest, but he knew the landmarks where he’d seen the still that afternoon. He passed a low grove of mountain laurel and turned off the path, working his way through the brush until he found the still. He turned up the lantern and set it on the ground near the old-fashioned copper coil, then raised the sledgehammer.
“Don’t do it, Joe.”
Joseph nearly jumped when he heard his
bruder
’s voice from the dark trees, outside the circle of the lantern’s light.
“Edward! What are you doing? You scared me half to death.”
“Put the hammer down, Joe.”
Joseph tightened his grip and shook his head. “
Nee
, Edward. This is wrong. You’re not going to get moonshine from some
Englischer
while—”
“It’s my still.”
Joseph slowly lowered the hammer. “What?”
Edward stepped into the light and Joseph saw that his
bruder
’s face was flushed and he reeked of alcohol.
“I lied to you, Joe. You think I don’t know how to build a still? We’ve both known since Grossdaddi . . . well . . . Just go home to your pretty wife.”
Joseph thought fleetingly of the giant of a man who’d been their grandfather, their father’s
fater
. In retrospect, Joseph knew that he’d died from “the drink,” as the Mountain
Amisch
put it, and Joseph wasn’t about to let Edward fall into the same pattern.
He hefted the sledgehammer and struck with easy force, smashing the coil and drum. He didn’t expect the rushing blow of Edward’s fist in his belly and stumbled backwards, staring at his
bruder
.
After a moment, Joseph spoke evenly. “Even as children, we never brawled, Edward. I’m not about to start now.”
Edward stumbled forward and struck him hard in the mouth and Joseph tasted blood. “God, yes, the perfect
Amischer
, even with your teenage forays. Hit me!”
Edward punched him again. “I said hit me.”
Joseph swiped the blood from his face and shook his head. “I don’t have to hit you, Edward. You’re already beating yourself up enough inside as it is . . .”
Joseph dropped the hammer and turned to go, but when he bent for the lantern, Edward pummeled him from behind.
“Hit me, you stupid ox! Hit me . . .”
Joseph shook him off and started the long trek home while Edward’s drunken cries echoed in his ears.
Priscilla sat in the rocking chair of the master bedroom, fuming.
How dare he love me to sleep, then sneak off somewhere?
She rocked harder in the dark, waiting for Joseph to return.
She didn’t have long to wait. Joseph quietly entered and she could barely make out his features in the moonlight and low light of the lantern, but knew that he was taking extra care in undressing.
She waited for a long moment, then snapped, “No secrets, huh, Joseph?”
She felt gratified when he jumped and turned rapidly in her direction.
“Why are you up?” he asked, though his voice sounded thick for some reason.
“I was waiting for you. Where were you?”
No answer.
She turned up the lantern on the side table near the chair, then gasped when she saw her husband’s face. He was bruised and bloodied and she automatically rushed to his side to touch his bare arm.
“Joseph, were you fighting?” She couldn’t believe her eyes.
He shook his head with a half laugh that had the catch of a sob in it and she slipped into his arms, all anger forgotten.
“Joseph, what happened?”
“It was—Edward. He was drunk and I destroyed his still.” He stopped and swiped angrily at his face. “He wanted me to hit him—my
bruder
. . .”
Priscilla reached her arms around his shoulders and he bent his head to her. She began to kiss him; tiny, quick butterfly swipes against each bruise and the swollen part of his mouth. She kissed his tears and whispered softly in his ear. Then he turned his mouth to her as she’d hoped he would, wanting him to forget for a moment.
He swept her up in his arms and crossed the room to the bed in two strides, and she did everything she knew how to comfort him until he at last fell into a deep sleep.
“I need to see Joe.”
Priscilla eyed Edward as he stood in the kitchen, his blond hair rumpled and his jaw in bad need of a shave. But his blue eyes were clear and she tried to push back the shadowy images of Joseph’s tears the previous night.
“He’s still asleep,” she said finally, truthfully.
Edward rubbed a hand behind his neck and avoided her steady gaze. “I suppose he told you—I don’t really remember everything.”
Well, you should see his face . . .
She lifted her chin. “He told me.”
Edward nodded and drew a deep breath, then startled visibly as the door to the master bedroom opened and Joseph came out. Priscilla winced when she looked at his face, though she’d thought she’d seen the worst of it in the light of dawn. But still, his right eye was swollen shut and his mouth twisted with obvious pain as he reached long fingers over a tender bruise on his high cheekbone.
“Dear Gott, Joseph,” Edward exclaimed in horror.
Priscilla thought it best to get up and go, but Joseph waved her back down in her seat. “
Nee
, stay still, Priscilla,
sei se gut
. Edward and I will talk outside. I don’t want to wake Daed.”
She nodded, unable to resist her mingled feelings of sorrow and satisfaction at Edward’s stricken look as he gazed at his brother.
“I—I don’t know what to say,” Edward mumbled.
Joseph squinted in the bright morning sunlight and shrugged. “Me neither.”
“I don’t remember much, Joe. I—you—I hit you and you just let me?”
Joseph smiled grimly. “Somehow that makes it sound like it’s my fault.”
“That’s not what I meant—I mean why the hell didn’t you kick my ass?”
“For what purpose, Edward?”
“Because I’ve had it coming.”
Joseph shook his head though it hurt. “I don’t know . . . something about grace and you being my little
bruder
and—”
“Come on, Joe, don’t give me all that crap.” Edward kicked the ground fitfully.
“Maybe it’s not crap. Maybe I took a beating because I’m the one who’s had it coming—at least from your viewpoint—perfect
Amischer
that I am . . .”
“I don’t understand you.”
Joseph felt his stomach gingerly. “Look, Edward, it’s done. Just stay away from the drink, all right?”
Edward’s nod wasn’t overly convincing and Joseph sighed, deeply troubled. “Edward . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it—don’t drink. Be
gut
. . . I’m gonna take a walk before breakfast, all right? I’m sorry, Joe.”
Joseph watched his
bruder
disappear into the forest and rubbed the side of his head in frustration. Then he noticed the sound of voices coming from the woodshed and decided to take a look.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Priscilla set about getting breakfast, deciding on fresh blueberry biscuits with crisp honey bacon, and fried tomato slices as well as coffee and orange juice.
Abner came out of his room with his usual taciturn but booming greeting. “Good morning,
dochder
Priscilla. Where is everyone?” He sat down at the table.
Priscilla bought time by opening the thin towel covering the biscuits and sending the delicious scent wafting in his direction.
He sighed. “
Ach
, blueberry—my favorite.”
“Why don’t you start, Abner? Hollie’s still sleeping and Joseph and Edward—went outside.”
She slid a mug of coffee beneath his beard, then lifted her sewing basket and took her usual place at the opposite end of the table.
She smiled as he practically inhaled two biscuits, then looked down the table at her. “Heavenly biscuits, Priscilla.”
“Danki,”
she murmured.
“What are you working on there?” he asked in the pleasant silence after a few more bites.
“Hand towels for Grossmudder May. I think I’ll finish them today. I’ve embroidered lilacs on the bottoms—they’re kind of a thank-you gift.” She hoped he wouldn’t notice the blush she felt stealing into her cheeks at the memory of Joseph’s kisses in the lilac grove.
“
Ach
, well, that
gut
woman deserves a thank-you a thousand times over and then some for all that she’s done for this community as a healer.”
“Jah,”
Priscilla said softly. “She’s helped me too.”
Abner chewed on, looking thoughtful, as she drew the last of the green threads through for the stem and leaves of the miniature lilacs.
Joseph realized that it was his four
buwes
working in the enlarged woodshed, and then wondered how he’d explain his physical appearance to them. He finally gave up trying to decide on a suitable explanation and opened the door.
He didn’t expect to make such a dramatic entrance, but all four of them froze in various poses when they saw his face.
“Good morning, lads,” he said heartily.
Dan Kauffman straightened to his full height and slowly laid down a brush dripping with lacquer. “Joseph—what happened?”
Joseph tried to smile though the effort hurt
.If I look that bad, I’ll give Daed another heart attack. Maybe I should go and see Grossmudder May for some poultices.
“How bad does the other fella look, Joseph?” Jay Smucker tried to joke.
“You can all rest assured that I wasn’t beating anyone up—I got into a bit of a tussle, but it’s over now, so let’s forget it.” He walked slowly around the hope chest and whistled low in appreciation.
Ernest jumped up from where he was tinkering with the heavy latch. “I made the hinges as smooth as honey, Joseph, so your daughter can raise the lid easily.”
“
Danki
, Ernest.”
John Byler pointed to the fine painting and decoration on both the front and the sides of the chest. “I think the drawings really came to life with the colors.”
Joseph nodded in agreement. “It’s as fine a piece of furniture as I’ve seen done by hand,
buwes
—it can go easily into any room in the
haus
and be graceful in its setting. But Hollie—she’ll love it, I know.”
Dan smiled, and for a brief moment Joseph saw a younger version of himself. It was enough to remind him that he’d made a promise to the bishop to teach—and not simply furniture making. He eased down onto a work stool and rubbed his hand idly against his chin, testing the pain.
“I’d like to talk with you, men.”
They all turned to him eagerly, attentively, and he realized that the building of the chest and his praise had made all the difference in forming the basis of a relationship between them.
“I need prayer, men, for someone close to me.” Joseph took a deep breath. “I can’t give you all the details, and I want to ask that our prayer requests never go beyond the walls of this shop.”
“Our prayer requests?” Dan questioned.
Joseph smiled at him. “
Jah
, Dan, how can I pray for you? What do you need?”
Dan shuffled uncomfortably but seemed to understand that Joseph was asking to build intimacy among the group. “Well, I—uh—I’m not going to do
rumspringa
. I plan on joining the church directly.”
Jay half laughed in disbelief. “No running around? But then how will you really know that joining and staying is the right thing to do?”
Joseph held up a hand. “It’s a fair question, Jay, but I don’t think Dan made this decision lightly.”
“Nee,”
Dan said quietly but with conviction. “I’ve thought and prayed a lot and I need prayer to be able to understand what it means to be part of the community, to serve others . . . That seems hard for me.”
“That’s hard for everyone,” Joseph said, thinking wryly of Edward. “Well, next?”
John Byler moved restlessly, fooling with a piece of leather strapping as he visibly worked up the nerve to speak. “I’m going to Lancaster for three weeks—to try out how it’d be to work my
oom
’s dairy farm.”
“Do you want to go, John?” Joseph asked in the sudden sober silence.
“
Nee
, I want to stay here and work at the carpentry shop with all of you, but my
daed
says I need to go from the mountain and see other things, other ways of work first.”
“Three weeks isn’t so long, John,” Dan offered. “We can pray for you here.”
“And I can talk with your
fater
,” Joseph promised.
John nodded, visibly moved.
“And what about you, Ernest?” Joseph asked.
“My dog died yesterday. Just a dumb ol’ dog, but I—she used to sleep with me when I was afraid of the thunder—and I . . .” He broke off, raising a fist to his lips.
Joseph shifted on the stool. “Ernest, all creatures are gifts—gifts of companionship and comfort and love. I’m sorry about your dog. How do you want us to pray?”
Ernest shrugged and bowed his head while Dan slung an arm over his shoulders.
Joseph decided to move on. “And Jay Smucker, how about you?”
“I don’t need anything.”
“Ahh,” Joseph murmured.
So like Edward . . . maybe there was a lot of pain hidden there, in both of them.
“Why?” Joseph asked finally.
“What do you mean?” Jay shifted his weight with visible unease.
“Why don’t you need anything?”
Jay blew out a breath of disgust. “Because what I need, Gott ain’t gonna give me. He never has and He never will.”
“We could try,” Dan said encouragingly.
Jay shook his head, then spoke, his voice so low, Joseph had to lean forward to catch the words. “I want my
daed
to stop hitting my
mamm
.”
There was silence as palpable as the dust motes in the shaft of sunshine from the window as Joseph scrambled for something to say.
Dear Gott, Jay’s
fater
, Red, is a giant of a man and his wife is as petite as—Priscilla.
“Does the bishop know?” Dan asked, and Jay looked up in alarm at Joseph.
“You said everything stays within these walls.”
Joseph nodded. “I did and I meant it. None of you are to try to be amateur providences and fix Jay’s situation or anyone else’s. This is about praying
.
”
Though I’d like to wring Red Smucker’s neck for him . . .
Jay seemed to relax at Joseph’s words and leaned back against the workbench.
And Joseph bowed his head and began to lead them all in prayer.
Priscilla plunged her hands into the sudsy water of the sink, then nearly jumped in surprise when Joseph knocked on the kitchen window directly in front of her.
“What?” she mouthed.
He motioned for her to come outside, and she quickly dried her hands and slipped out the door while Abner and Hollie were deep in a game of checkers.
Joseph caught her close when she came out, so close that she shrieked, and he laughed softly, then let her go with a quick buss on her nose.
“How was your talk with Edward?” she asked low.
“Like a talk with Edward . . . frustrating. Hey, I’m afraid Daed will get riled if he sees me beat up, and I’d hate to lie to him. I thought I’d run up the mountain to Grossmudder May’s and get some possible treatment for the bruises and swelling.”
“You look like a pirate,” she chided him gently. “But if you’re going to go, will you take something to her from me? I promised Hollie we’d go over and see baby Rose today.”
“Sure,” he said, smiling.
Pricilla nodded and moved quietly back into the house, snatching up her sewing basket. But judging by the serious eyes of the two opponents at the checkerboard, she doubted she needed to worry about being noticed. She closed the door behind her, then withdrew the two hand towels from her basket.
Joseph bent to study her work. “Lilacs, hmm? Do you remember when . . . ?”
“Yes,” she snapped, taking a flustered look about.
He laughed and kissed her again, lingering over the pulse point in her throat.
“Joseph,” she hissed. “Anyone can see.”
“And since when have you grown shy? Maybe we need a trip back to the secret pool, hmm?”
She had to smile and he took the lilac towels from her with an elegant bow and a rakish smile.
She put her hands on her hips and shook her head, unsure how he could be so battered and still look so good. She sighed aloud and watched him disappear into the treeline with longing in her heart.