Arms of Love (36 page)

“Strong and skillful . . . and ready to serve and love. Now, what were you thinking on so hard that you burned yourself?”

Ruth sighed. Men did not usually understand the value of clothing— her Henry certainly had not. She could have worn a potato sack and he would have thought it grand.

“Oh . . . the wedding. What to wear, actually.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “Silly, I suppose.”

“Not silly,” Samuel said as he caught her close. “In fact, I know a secret about this very issue that might ease your mind.”

“Well, tell me then!” She stared up at him.

“For a price, woman. A single kiss, if you will be so kind.”

Ruth thought about the young girl she once was, how she’d practiced kissing on an old pewter plate, her reflection blurred and nonsensical.

Kisses with Henry had been quick things, as they’d both been too tired to think at times when they were indentured. But Samuel’s kind blue eyes beckoned to her, and she stretched on her tiptoes, feeling young and giddy as she placed softened lips against his own.

She drew back and looked at him expectantly, surprised to find his face aflush and his eyes half closed. Her own face felt hotter than the heat from the bake oven, and she decided she would win her secret from him.

“Well?” she asked.

“Delightful.”

“Nay . . . the secret?”

“
Ach, ya
. . . Ellen Wyse told me when we went over the other day that she was making you Amish wear to have for the wedding as a surprise. I suppose it will take much time and sewing.”

Ruth’s eyes filled with tears. “That is so kind of her. You Amish understand how to be neighbors and friends better than anyone in the world, I imagine.”

“
You
Amish,” he reminded her, and she had to laugh.

“Aye, I guess I will try my hand at this neighborliness. Got a talent for making biscuits, I do, and for keeping bees. I might get you to help me set up a hive, and then I could give Ellen some honey.”

“That would be
wunderbarr
, my love. And now, for sweetness’ sake, how about one more kiss?”

Ruth smiled and complied with enthusiasm.

Adam looked up in surprise when Isaac came to stand in the doorway of his bedroom.

“You’re up early this day,” Isaac said.

Adam looked down at the clothing he’d been folding on the bed, trying to sort out what was best to take for a time of sleeping in tents in a regiment.

“
Ya
. I have things to be about.”

“So you plan on leaving in truth then?”

“After the paint frolic, I guess.”

“So you can see her one last time?” There was no sarcasm in the tone, only a genuineness that stole at Adam’s heart.

“
Ya
, if you do not mind.”

“I would never begrudge that from you.”

“
Danki
.”

Isaac nodded, then straightened. “Hold on a minute, Adam. I’ll be right back. I have something to give you.” He returned shortly with a single page of a book in his hand, one side of it clearly torn. “Here.” He reached across the bed.

“You tore one of your books—why?” Adam took the page and looked into his brother’s eyes.

“It’s a page from the Bible. Fold it up. Don’t read it now, but I marked a verse there on one side. Perhaps it will give you peace in time of trouble one day.”

Adam slowly folded the page, then slipped it into the pocket of his vest. “
Danki
, Isaac. I—I will keep it always.”

His older
bruder
nodded. “I will miss you, Adam. It has always seemed the wrong way round with us, like you were the elder, someone I looked up to and admired. I still do.”

Adam came round the bed and caught him in a fierce embrace, then pulled away, his eyes damp. “And I have been wrong so often, Isaac.

Making fun of you and your studies . . . I pray that the Lord will bless you and keep you.”

“He will.”

Adam nodded. “I will see you at the paint frolic then.”

“At the paint frolic.”

Adam stared at the empty doorway for a long time once Isaac had gone and wished he might bring back time to make things different.

Lena mindlessly gathered the ingredients for potato soup. Onions, carrots, peas, herbs, all found their way into the pot without her really thinking about the matter. She had determined to concentrate on cooking that morn and not on her coming guests, but she found that her mind wandered of its own accord.

Abby was soon up and wanting to help, so Lena set her to filling the sugar bowl with brown sugar from the barrel in the corner of the room. Next John rose, and the bishop came in from a brief hobble out onto the porch. He was using a heavy stick and seemed to be making
gut
progress. Lena did not want to think of their nighttime conversation, so she smiled gaily at him and asked what he and everyone else wanted for breakfast.

“Bacon!” John said.

“Hotcakes!” Abby cried from the corner.

The bishop laughed. “Perhaps, for the sake of your
schwester
, who is the cook of the day it seems, we might all settle for bread and butter and some dried apples.”

Lena gave him a grateful look, while John and Abby groaned. “An excellent idea. Please help yourselves.”

She went on about her work while the cheerful voices bubbled in time to her thoughts. She wondered what was keeping Ruth, then looked up in surprise to see her father enter first, carrying a tray of cookies, followed by a red-faced Ruth who had a more than tender look about her.

Lena smiled in surprise, recognizing that expression from her own experiences with Adam, then had to force herself back to the present as Abby piped up in excitement.

“
Ach
, Lena, the pot on the fire boils over!”

Lena rushed to the soup, fearing on some dark level of her mind that it was not a good start to the day.

Chapter 32

J
oseph rode confidently through the woods and onto the Indian trails, contemplating how good life would be once Adam had gone. He had noticed his son packing when he had passed the boy’s bedroom that morn. To be free of the pursuing feelings of guilt and fear of exposure at last . . .

He reached the clearing where Abel Glick had suggested there might be building going on and pulled rein on the horse. Sure enough, several Amish men were working at the stone foundation of a half-formed structure. Joseph watched for a moment from behind the cover of the trees, then moved forward.

“Gentlemen, how fares the day?” He kept his voice level, engaging. He did not recognize the men and wondered if they were outside of where he roamed. Then a man with a hammer lifted his head, and Joseph knew it was
Herr
King, the father of the children whose puppy he had attended to. Joseph was surprised; he’d thought the King family a stable lot.

“Caleb King, a
gut
day to you.”

The other man nodded, clearly embarrassed at being caught in what he was doing. But Joseph also recognized a spark of defiance in his eyes.

“We want no trouble, Deacon Wyse,” Caleb said. “ ’Tis only for a time that we would build a structure to worship together in peace and safety.”

Joseph nodded, stroking his beard. “I see. But the way of the Amish, the home church, what of that?”

Caleb looked around for support, and another man chimed in. “This is easier. No need to move benches and such. And it presents a safer place in a way, a sounder structure than some of the homes hereabouts.”

“You do realize that this is why the Amish took to home churches?

Because of the persecution they faced when they tried to meet in groups?”

Joseph answered, strolling closer. “It is truth that some churches were barred and set alight, so that all within perished. How then can this structure you build in secret be a blessing of a place to worship? Do you think the Lord cannot see what you do?”

“Ya, He sees and maybe approves, Deacon.” The man twisted the last word of his speech, and Joseph had to suppress a feeling of anger at being questioned in his authority.

“Well, as to that, why not let us consult Bishop Mast? He is even now at the Yoder home. And though he’s been injured in the foot, I am sure that he would like to have a look at what you are so sure is approved of in heaven’s eyes.”

There was a prolonged moment of silence, and then Caleb King dropped his hammer in surrender. “I do not need to see the bishop to know what he would say, and he is a fair and righteous man. What we do here for the sake of convenience is wrong and goes against our history. And I would not like to think of either side of the war setting this place alight with my wife and
kinner
inside. I say we have laid the last stone. Let us pray and walk away from this.”

The other man scowled. “You give up because this man disapproves? I would like to see the bishop and hear what he has to say.”

“Fine,” Joseph said. “I will fetch him here.”

“And I will go back to my home. Deacon Wyse, a gut day. And blessings on you.” Caleb King walked to his horse and mounted, riding away through a line of trees.

Joseph too turned his back and went for his horse. “I will return with the bishop in
gut
time. Please, feel free to keep on with your work, holy that it is.”

He laughed at the grunt from the other man and set his horse off at a brisk pace toward the Yoder farm.