Living in Harmony (37 page)

Nora didn't understand about “temporary permit” or “cones,” but that hardly mattered. Elam was taking the English driver's test. She'd known only one Amish man ever to do that. “Whatever for?” she asked, peering up at him. “All you have is a buggy and a fast horse.”

“Don't be a little goose. I don't plan to stay in Harmony forever, especially if another logging job doesn't open up soon. And I can't very well walk or take a buggy where I'm going.” He lifted her chin with the gentlest of touches. “Now go on inside. You're starting to shiver. And you don't want to get caught with a no-good man like me.”

Before she could argue, he grabbed her hand and pulled her up
the steps to the lawn. “Good night, Nora. Sweet dreams,” he whispered. After a courtly tip of his hat, he disappeared back down into his subterranean cave.

Nora stood in the dark with a racing heart and skin tingling where he had touched it. Elam didn't need to remind her to keep quiet. Wild mustangs couldn't have dragged the secret from her.

Amy sat at the kitchen table with her second cup of coffee, trying to understand how her life had tangled into such a snarl. Every mental avenue she traveled down appeared to be a dead end. In her state of turmoil, she wasn't aware that Sally had entered the room until she spoke.

“What are you doing up? It's not yet five a.m. Even the rooster hasn't crowed.”

“I couldn't sleep. I'm trying to figure out how to patch up things with John. Just because he lost his head doesn't mean I should have lost mine. You know what they say about two wrongs.”

Sally reached for her favorite mug and the coffeepot. “First, you need to decide what you want, Amy King.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you come here? Spell it out for me. I have plenty of time. Both boys are still asleep.”

Amy considered the question carefully. “I came to make a new life for myself with John.”

“And Maine is where you wish that new life to be?” Sally squinted as though in bright sunlight.

“Definitely. I've fallen in love with Harmony.”

“And John is the man you want to marry?” Sally added two heaping spoonfuls of sugar to her mug and stirred her coffee slowly.

“
Jah
. I can't imagine my life without John in it.”

“Then why do you keep fighting him at every turn?” The teaspoon clattered onto the table.

Amy flinched—annoyed, then frightened, and then saddened by the question. After an uncomfortable minute she answered, “I don't know why. I suppose I'm afraid to surrender to him and give up my independence. I need to maintain control, especially for Nora's sake.”

Sally tilted her head, looking genuinely perplexed. “What do you suppose would happen to Nora if you let down your guard?”

“I'm afraid to think about it. I know she doesn't want to return to Lancaster,” she whispered, ashamed she might be betraying a confidence. “I must make things work for her here.”

“You're capable of doing that?” Sally stared without blinking. “You can make another person's life run smoothly?”

Amy fussed with her paper napkin. “I must try, Sally. I'm her only confidant since our parents died. Although, John is right about one thing—my pampering and overprotecting will only cripple her. I might have done that already. This morning when I shook her so we could talk, she snapped at me. She said she needed to sleep and that I should leave her alone.” Amy gulped her coffee black, needing all the fortification she could get.

“No one would describe her as a morning person.” Sally's giggle dissipated some of the tension.

“Nora pays lip service to helping around the house more, but then she sleeps in until ten o'clock.” Amy leaned her head back and shut her eyes. “But we've gotten off track. I need to fix things with John, not map out my sister's future.”

Sally finished her drink before speaking. “Okay, you wish to make a life here with John. What else is important to you?”

“I love having family around me. That's why I want Nora to stay in Maine and the house we purchase to be near you and Thomas and your boys…” She heard the childish tone in her voice and stopped herself.

“Go on,” prodded Sally. “It's just you and me and God. Get this
off your chest. There's nothing you can't admit to me, not with my checkered past.”

Amy wiped her eyes, moist with unshed tears. “That's one reason I wanted to reconnect with Aunt Prudence. She was so much like my mother back in Lancaster.
Mamm
is gone, but I still could have Aunt Prudence if she would only move to Harmony. In some odd way I need her in my life, and she turned her back on me. I wonder if she really did write two letters or if she just said that to cover her tracks. Why wouldn't I have received them?” Her voice trembled, betraying her insecurity.

Tick, tock, tick, tock
—the clock on the wall marked the passage of time. Amy heard stirring overhead. Thomas must be getting up, rising from his knees after morning prayers. She scrambled to her feet. “I had better start the bacon. The men will want a hot meal when they finish chores.”

“Sit!” ordered Sally. “We're not done yet. Breakfast can wait.”

Amy plopped down. She'd never heard such vehemence from the woman before. “What is it?”

For several moments Sally stared at the ceiling as though it might reveal the answers. “She did mail the letters, Amy. Prudence Summerton wrote back to you just like she said.”

“How do you know that? What happened to them, then?”

Sally's face contorted as if she were chewing on a sour lemon. “I know, that's all. Can't you just take my word for it?”

Amy shook her head back and forth. “
Nein
, I can't. You're the one who started this bare-your-soul conversation, so you cannot stop midstream. Tell me what you're hiding.”

Sally sighed, sad but resigned. “I know the postman delivered letters here shortly after you wrote to Aunt Prudence. John found them. Who else could they have been from with a Chestnut postmark?”

“If that's true, where are they?” Icy fingers clawed along her backbone, despite her proximity to the woodstove.

“He threw them into the fire. I saw him do it. Later I poked through the ashes after he left the room. The Summertons' return address was still visible on the envelope.”

Amy heard movement behind her as she tried to process Sally's news. She turned to see John Detweiler in the doorway as her belly took a tumble. He stood mute and motionless as though struck by a paralytic fit.

“Is it so, John? Did you burn my aunt's letters?”

“
Jah
, I did.”

With those three words, everything changed in Amy's life. Everything she had trusted and loved and believed in changed in an instant.

I
f the kitchen floorboards had suddenly heaved apart, opening a deep chasm to the center of the earth, John would have jumped in without hesitation. Certain death would have been preferable to the shocked and miserable expression on Amy's face. He'd awakened that morning with the clear understanding that Thomas was right. Nora's business wasn't any of his. He'd overstepped his role as Amy's fiancé, causing her additional frustration. Dealing with a willful sister must be hard enough without him adding unnecessary pressure.

As he washed and dressed for the day, he planned how he would apologize first to Amy and then to Nora. If they had any future together, he must rein in his need to control situations and have the final word in every discussion. Wasn't marriage a partnership between a man and woman—a meeting of minds as wells as bodies to form a new whole, greater than either half alone? The male wasn't the “big” half, like a pie haphazardly split between siblings.

He heard Amy's voice in the kitchen as soon as he'd left his room. He prayed to know what to say—to have the right words that would undo his badly misguided behavior. He hadn't minded hearing Sally's voice too. After all, how could Amy refuse a sincere apology delivered before a loving witness who only had their best interests at heart? But he hadn't been prepared to hear his grievous sins—sins that shame had forced to the recess of memory—brought forth to convict him on the spot.

“He threw them into the fire. I saw him do it…The Summertons' return address was still visible on the envelope.”

The floor, however, didn't rend like an earthquake fault line. John was left facing the only woman he had ever loved.

“Is it so, John? Did you burn my aunt's letters?”

And he had no choice but to admit the terrible truth. Amy turned deathly pale as she ran for the door, grabbing her cloak as an afterthought. “Amy, please wait,” he begged. “Let's talk about this. I can explain.”

With her hand on the doorknob, she glared at him. Her eyes turned as cold as a high-country stream in spring. “How could you
do
such a thing? You knew how much Aunt Prudence meant to me!” Then she was gone with a resounding slam of the door.

John looked at Sally, who sat motionless at the table, mortified by what she had done.

“I kept your secret for as long as possible,” she whispered. “But I couldn't allow her to believe—”

“Stop,” he pleaded. “You owe me no explanation. I'm the one who did wrong, not you.” He slumped into the chair recently occupied by Amy. “Because of my bullish inflexibility, I have ruined my life.”

Sally flinched from his assessment, her forehead creasing with worry. “Maybe not. Everyone makes mistakes, John. If you explained to her why you acted so, perhaps she'll take pity on you.” Her grip on her coffee mug tightened.

“And say what? I had no rational excuse for my actions, only the desire to remove what I considered a bad influence from her life. That sounds nothing but mean.” He fought back self-indulgent tears. All his troubles, all his misery was his own fault.

“That might be true, but Amy has a generous heart. Maybe she'll forgive you.” Sally hesitated and then reached out to pat his arm. “Worth a try, no?”

He nodded. “Worth everything in this world to me. If I die a lonely old man, at least I'll know I tried to make amends.” He jumped up, grabbed his coat, and ran from the house. At the end of the driveway he scanned the road in both directions, calling Amy's name. Then he swiftly searched the barn, workshop, and henhouse. Finally, he spotted a solitary female figure walking through the pasture. In the thin light of dawn, she moved like a specter as fog swirled and eddied around her legs. Her head was bent low as she watched the ground for hidden obstacles.

John ran pell-mell after her, heedless when a gust of wind blew his hat from his head. “Amy, wait up,” he called once he'd cut the distance between them by half.

Hearing her name, she picked up her skirt and ran. A split rail fence stopped her like a high stone wall. Just as she was ducking her head to climb through the rails, John reached her side.

“Please give me a minute of your time, even though I don't deserve it.” He touched her arm.

She recoiled. Hurt, anger, and betrayal filled her glare. “Say your piece, John Detweiler, but be quick about it. And keep your hands to yourself.”

He stepped back a pace. “Regardless of what you decide to do, I want to say how truly sorry I am.”

“Sorry about what? That you got caught? I'll bet so. If not for Sally, I never would have known of your deception.” She crossed her arms, erecting a hostile barrier between them.

How could he answer that? He had no idea if he would have
someday confessed his guilt. “I knew the moment I burned Prudence's letters it was wrong, that I was making a mistake—”

“Then why did you do it not once, but
twice
?”

“I was afraid of losing you.” He uttered the words so softly he didn't know if she'd heard. “I feared that an independent woman like Prudence would advise you not to marry. At least, not marry me, a man without means to properly provide for a wife. With your share of the inheritance you could support yourself anywhere until a more suitable candidate came along. I'm sure your aunt wished she had never married Leon Hilty in haste.” John stared at wild morning glories, still clinging desperately to life despite several hard frosts.