“More pie, Samuel?” Barbara held a slice of apple crumb pie out temptingly, but he shook his head.
“It’s wonderful gut, but I couldn’t find a place to put it. Give it to your husband, won’t you?”
“Ach, Levi will be having it for a bedtime snack, like as not.” She moved around the table, but getting no takers for the pie, she slid back into her seat next to Levi. And fixed her gaze on Anna.
As if aware of that stare, Anna moved slightly. She was feeling uncomfortable, that was certain-sure. He remembered that feeling from his own return, even though the circumstances had been different. It was a sense of being caught between two worlds and belonging to neither.
She’d get over it. Even now she was joining in the easy talk from time to time. With the baby to consider, she had every reason to sink back into the life she’d left with no second thoughts.
Unlike him. She’d come back, he supposed, because she wanted to raise her child here. He’d come back because he had to.
That was the difference between them. He’d never know, not for certain-sure, whether his commitment was solid. Or whether, like his father, he had it in him to let everyone down.
“So, Anna.” Barbara broke into a conversation about the right time for harvesting the pumpkins. “Why didn’t you marry the boppli’s father?”
Silence fell around the table, broken only by an indrawn breath or two. Barbara had the reputation of saying things other people didn’t dare, but this time she’d outdone herself.
Anna had paled. A ridiculous longing to protect her swept through Samuel. She wouldn’t want to answer a question like that here, in front of everyone. But wouldn’t it be better to get it out, once and for all?
Please, Lord . . .
“Barbara, I thought better of you than to ask that. Anna’s reasons are between her and God. The bishop will speak to her about it, not you.”
Elias’s voice was as severe as he’d ever heard it. Even Levi, who usually went along with his brash wife, seemed to shrink away from her.
It was true enough, what Elias said. But . . .
Trust them, Anna. Trust. I didn’t, and I’ve grieved ever since.
“I . . . I didn’t mean . . .” Barbara had turned brick red at the rebuke.
“It’s all right.” Anna seemed to straighten where she sat, as if preparing herself for a trial. Her hand caressed the boppli’s head. She shot Samuel a glance. “Samuel reminded me that I should trust you. And I do.”
She sucked in a breath. “There was never a question of marrying the baby’s father. Gracie is mine—has been since her birth mother put her into my arms, but I didn’t bear her. Gracie’s mother was my dearest friend. I made a promise to her when she was dying that Gracie would be my daughter. She is, and she always will be.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Anna
held her breath, looking at the faces around the table. She shouldn’t have blurted it out that way. What had happened to her resolve to let them believe Gracie had been born to her?
She couldn’t do it. When it came right down to it, she couldn’t lie to them. Ironic, after all the lying she’d managed to do during her rebellious rumspringa. That girl seemed pretty far away now.
Still no one spoke. They were waiting for Daadi, she knew. She couldn’t read anything from his expression, and her heart grew cold. The others—well, there she saw doubt and questions.
Her gaze collided with Samuel’s, and she looked away quickly. He shouldn’t be here for this. It was private, between her and her family.
Except that maybe they weren’t her family any longer. If they couldn’t accept that Gracie was her child, she’d have to leave.
The thought was there, in her mind, when her father finally spoke. “You must tell us more, Anna. Help us to understand.”
Convince you I’m telling the truth, you mean?
The quick, defensive words were there in her mind. A few years ago they’d have spilled out of her mouth, but she wasn’t that headstrong teenager any longer. She needed their help, and she’d have to submit to whatever they asked.
Submission.
The word left a bitter taste in her mouth. That was the core of Amish life she’d always found impossible to accept.
Times change, so the saying went. More likely, time had changed her. She could accept anything for Gracie’s sake. She wrapped her arms around her daughter, feeling Gracie’s head pressing against her heart.
“I was going to school in Chicago and working as a waitress to pay my way.” She chose her words carefully, needing to make them understand a world they’d never known. “Another of the girls working there needed a roommate, so I moved in with her.”
They wouldn’t be able to picture the rundown, dirty building or the cluttered apartment. Or imagine the triple locks on the door.
She took a breath. “Jannie, my roommate, had a boyfriend. Pete, his name is. He was in and out of trouble all the time, mostly for selling drugs.”
Daad shook his head slowly, not in disbelief but in sorrow, it seemed. “That is a bad thing, it is.”
“Jannie got pregnant, and I could see something wasn’t right.” That was one benefit of growing up Amish. She’d been around enough pregnant females, animal and human, to know what was normal. “I got her to go to the clinic. They found she had leukemia.”
Someone around the table sucked in a breath. Leah. “Poor thing.”
“Ja,” Myra said softly.
“When she told Pete, he couldn’t handle it. He just wanted out.” She was consolidating into a few sentences the weeks of anguish, of comforting Jannie and trying to see the path ahead.
“Jannie . . .” How could she make them understand a waif like Jannie, rootless in an uncaring world? “She didn’t have anyone. No family, no one who could help. When she lost Pete, she was desperate.”
“So you helped her.”
If there was a trace of surprise in Daadi’s voice, she decided to ignore it.
“I was all she had.” She took a shaky breath. “When she realized she wasn’t going to live, all she wanted was to know that her baby would be safe.” Jannie, who’d never seemed to have a mind of her own about anything, had proved unexpectedly strong when it came to her baby. “She asked me to raise her child, and I promised that I would. The nurse put Gracie into my arms minutes after she was born.” She dropped a kiss on Gracie’s hair, inhaling the sweet baby scent. “I knew she was mine in that moment.”
A faint murmur of understanding came from the other women. Barbara nodded. They knew that moment.
Daadi was frowning, though. “What about the father? He has the right to his own child.”
She bit back angry words. They wouldn’t help. Daadi could never really understand a man who would put his next fix ahead of his child. Daadi would always try to be fair, even to someone like Pete.
“He didn’t want her.” She cradled Gracie in her arms. That was true. Pete hadn’t wanted the baby. “He signed the papers giving her away. She’s my child, both in law and in my heart.”
Her words seemed to linger in the silence that greeted them. She pressed one hand against the rough wood of the picnic table, willing someone to speak. No one did.
Rebellion rose in her. “You’d be happier if I came back an unwed mother,” she snapped. “Would that be easier to forgive?”
“Don’t, Anna.” Leah might have been chiding a fifteen-year-old Anna for hiding English clothes in the barn. “You know that’s not so. We’re just trying to understand, ain’t so?” Leah glanced around the table, seeking agreement.
Several heads nodded. Mahlon, her next-older brother, usually so happy-go-lucky, still looked faintly shocked, but he nodded, too.
To her surprise, it was Barbara who reached over to pat her hand. “You love her, whether she came from your body or not.”
“Ja,” she said softly. “Denke, Barbara.” Too often her annoyance with Barbara’s nosiness made her overlook the woman’s warm heart.
“The Stoltzfus family, over by Big Creek, they adopted three English kinder,” Samuel said, dropping the words in quietly.
“Ja, but they are a married couple.” Mahlon glanced at his young wife, as if trying to gauge her opinion.
“You’ve all accepted my three young ones as family,” Daniel, Leah’s husband, said, wrapping his hand around hers. A blind person could see how much those two loved each other. To think she’d once been furious with Leah for considering marriage to Daniel.
“If the law agrees the baby is Anna’s,” Joseph said, “then we’ll have no quarrel with the English over it.”
Anna should have been grateful for their support. She was, for Gracie’s sake. But still her rebellious spirit rose. They all thought they had a share and a say in her life. That was what she’d jumped the fence to escape.
“I will talk to Bishop Mose,” Daadi said at last. “No one else needs to know anything but that our Anna is back with her child.” He looked at her, and his face softened. “You are here, where you belong. You’ll talk to Bishop Mose, kneel before the church, and be accepted back. It is what we’ve all prayed for, and we are thankful.”
She nodded, lowering her face so that she didn’t have to meet his gaze. How could she kneel before the church and ask them to accept her back when she didn’t intend to stay? How could she hide among her own family without telling them the whole story about Pete?
A shiver ran through her. She seemed to see again the twisted anger on Pete’s face, the maudlin tears he’d shed when he’d shown up at her door, demanding to see his baby, dismissing the papers he’d signed. Saying little Gracie belonged to him.
The baby’s safety came first, no matter the cost.
“Ja, Daadi,” she said softly. “Denke.”
She looked up then. The others appeared happy, or at least relieved.
But Samuel—Samuel looked as if he saw right into her heart and knew what she was hiding.
“Hand
me that wrench, will you?”
Samuel passed the tool to Joseph, smiling a little. There was nothing Joseph enjoyed more than a challenge like the one posed by the balky baler. “You won’t be content until you’ve fixed it, will you?”
“Course not.” Joseph looked up at him, grinning. “Converting tractor-drawn machinery to horse-drawn might seem like a step backward to the outside world, but to me, it is fun. Any real mechanic would feel the same.”
The Amish ban on connecting to the power grid meant plenty of work for someone like Joseph, who could use a portable electric generator, powered by a gasoline engine, to run a welder. And because the end purpose was to keep horse-drawn equipment in the field, the bishops agreed to it.
“I guess I’m not a real mechanic.” Samuel didn’t need to be embarrassed about admitting it to Joseph. Joseph knew it as well as anyone, but said they made a gut team anyway.
Samuel could only hope that was true. Joseph’s offer to go into business with him had come at a time when he’d desperately needed it. It had made him feel like a useful part of the community again. He wouldn’t soon forget what he owed Joseph.
Which maybe partly accounted for how troubled he felt over Anna. Joseph cared so much about his little sister. It would be a shame if he ended up getting hurt.
Joseph gave the baler a frustrated tap with the wrench. “So tell me something.”
“Ja, what? If it’s something about the machine, you know it better than I do.”
Joseph shook his head, concern slipping into his eyes. “What are people saying about Anna coming back? And the boppli?”
“I haven’t said a word to anyone.” That wasn’t really an answer to the question, but maybe Joseph would let it slide. “Your daad didn’t want us to talk about it.” He shrugged, rising from where he’d been squatting next to Joseph on the rough floor of the shop. “I wouldn’t, anyway. I remember how it felt, coming back, figuring every blabbermaul in the valley was gossiping about me.”
“I know you wouldn’t say anything, but I bet you hear plenty. I saw how everyone shut up fast when I stopped at the feed mill. They had to be talking about Anna.”
“Ja, well, you know how folks are.” Samuel shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “They’re bound to talk, but soon as they see that things are all right with the family, they’ll settle down.”
At least, he hoped so. Anna’s situation was a bit different from his. He hadn’t come home with a baby.
“Little Gracie makes a difference,” Joseph said, echoing Samuel’s thoughts. Hands on his hips, he stared out the open shop door toward the house. “It’s not like the usual.”
No, it wasn’t. The usual was a young man like he’d been, who, at the end of his rumspringa, decided to taste the outside world instead of getting married and settling down as people expected. Most of them came back, convinced they belonged here.
He’d come back. But the conviction—that was what he was missing. That was why he hadn’t found a bride, despite the broad hints of his friends.
How could he, when he didn’t know his own mind? When he didn’t know how much of his father was in him, ready to burst out and bring the world crashing in on people he was supposed to love?
Joseph sighed, and Samuel knew his thoughts were still on Anna. “I guess we just have to ride it out until somebody else does something to get folks talking. It’ll be better once Anna has seen Bishop Mose.”
“Ja.” If anyone could help ease Anna and her babe back into the church, it would be Bishop Mose. Samuel just wished he felt sure that was what Anna really wanted.
“Somebody’s coming.” Joseph stepped out into the sunshine, and Samuel followed him. “A car.”
“Maybe the English are starting to hear how gut you are with the machines,” he said, nudging Joseph.
“Not likely. If a thing doesn’t run on the electric, they’re not interested.”
It was a pickup truck, not a car, bright red and shiny as could be. Samuel made a quick comparison to the rundown vehicle Anna had arrived in. This glossy piece of metal wouldn’t want to be in the same garage as Anna’s heap.