Until I Love Again (32 page)

Bishop Mark's hand stopped halfway down his beard, and he regarded Ernest with a steady gaze. “You would question the wisdom of your own bishop then?”

“Of course not, but—”

Bishop Mark cut him off. “You are not a minister, are you? Have you been ordained to lead the Lord's people?”

Ernest pulled himself up straight. “I have been called to lead my home, and Susanna was my intended promised one. In this I have a right to speak when someone takes her from me.”

“I see,” Bishop Mark said. “In this you would be right, so let's speak further on the matter—now that I know you are not challenging Bishop Enos's authority.”

Ernest nodded and set his face again. “Far be it from me to do such a thing, Bishop Mark. I am a humble servant and take no responsibility that does not belong to me. I have served faithfully ever since my baptism as a member in the district. You can ask Bishop Enos if you wish. I would not challenge him on anything. But I love Susanna, and I have a right to ask questions.”

Bishop Mark grunted. “Questions and challenges are close cousins if not brothers, but I will give you the point. I can understand why you would be distraught over this matter. Susanna Miller is a beautiful woman, but she has the wild
Englisha
blood of her mother in her, Ernest. Surely you would not wish to take such a woman as your
frau
?”

“I think Susanna is being judged too harshly.” Ernest kept his
voice even. “It is discipline that she lacks, and this is what should have been given to her—and to Emma for that matter. The Lord knows I tried.”

Bishop Mark eyed Ernest with a sharp look. “So you say Susanna was judged too harshly, meaning she was
goot
on the inside but only needed stronger discipline. That would imply there were no big problems in her life.”

“Does not discipline deal with wrongness?” Ernest tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. “And I realize no one is perfect. I was willing to work with Susanna. We didn't have to lose her to the
Englisha
people. What does this say about our ability to keep people in the faith? Beyond that, one of our own young women helps the erring one in the wrong direction. Emma was clearly out of her place. I don't see how no one can understand that.”

“Perhaps because Emma's eyes were wider open then yours were. That's your answer, Ernest.” Bishop Mark shifted on his rocker. “At least, that's what I was told by Deacon Herman. Would you claim the deacon was wrong?”

Ernest swallowed twice before he answered. “I am not an ordained man, but I am the husband of my family, and my two daughters need a
mamm
. Badly! Surely no one can question that, and Susanna was the woman to fill that empty spot. Don't I get to decide that?”

“My heart is with you, Ernest,” Bishop Mark allowed. “Maybe I would feel the same way in your situation, but clearly you have been blinded by Susanna's beauty. You have allowed her allure to create feelings in your heart that are not wise. In this you had best give way to those who can see clearer and from a better viewpoint. Emma was right. Deacon Herman has told me this, and I have no reason to doubt his word. Especially since Bishop Enos agrees with him. You had best back down on this issue and not complain further.
Seeking counsel is one thing, but pushing things too far is unwise. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” Ernest stared at the living room wall.

“We value peace in the community,” Bishop Mark continued. “Troublemakers are not appreciated. You know this. If I were you, I'd ask Emma to marry me this weekend. Get this whole thing behind you, Ernest. Your objections to how Susanna's case was handled are well known in the community. Perhaps better than you think. Many are watching to see how you take this, and they will remember—as our people should. Those who cannot accept the discipline of the Lord are not appreciated. Everyone except you seems to know that Susanna has always been a risk to the community. She was granted patience only because of Ralph's full repentance of his sins and because of his desire to extend the grace of the Lord to his daughter. A daughter who—I must remind you—was begotten in sin. The community extended her that same grace, but Susanna clearly did not benefit from what the community offered. You had best accept that fact, Ernest. Stop in at Emma's place on the way home and speak kind words to her. That would go a long way to settling this whole matter in the minds of our people.”

“I—” Ernest began, but stopped. Further words were useless. This whole thing had turned on him, and now the community thought he was to blame and needed repentance. Anger stirred in him, but he couldn't allow the bishop to see. “I will think on this,” he concluded.

Esther must have heard the end of the conversation because she stuck her head out of the kitchen and asked, “Would you like a piece of pie, perhaps? Before you go?”

Ernest tried to smile and said, “No. I must be going. It's late already.”

“Remember what I said,” Bishop Mark hollered after him as Ernest went out the door.

Ernest took the porch steps two at a time, but slowed as he approached the buggy again. He should have stayed home tonight, but he hadn't, and now it was too late. All he had done was make things worse for himself. Bishop Mark thought he should take Emma as his
frau
. Katherine had told him the same thing tonight, but he was not about to listen to a woman. How could he take that low-down, sneaky Emma into his home? How could a woman like Emma call his daughters her own? He was not ready to stoop that low.

“And may it never happen,” Ernest whispered into the night as he untied Gambit and drove out of the bishop's lane.

Chapter Thirty-Two

J
oey arrived home to the sound of piano music wafting out the window. He grinned, parked his car, and climbed out. That would be Susanna again. With a soft step he cautiously approached the house.

His mother stopped him at the front door. “Shh…don't disturb her until she's finished.”

“She's good, isn't she?” Joey asked.

Beatrice smiled. “I knew the girl could play, but I hadn't been paying much attention when she was here over the weekends.”

“How's she doing otherwise?”

“She's coming along,” Beatrice said. “We've been to the dry-goods store twice. They even had a nice used sewing machine for sale—electric powered, thank goodness. I couldn't stand to see the girl pedal through the sewing of a whole dress. Then we bought patterns at Walmart. It took a little doing on Susanna's part, but the dresses look store-bought to me. The girl is frugal and talented. Not bad qualities to have. She won't waste your money, if it comes to that.”

“Come on, Mom,” Joey protested halfheartedly. “What are you getting at?”

“I'm your mother.” Beatrice patted his arm. “I know what's going on in that mind of yours. But I also know Susanna needs to live somewhere else if you want to win her heart. Something about her upbringing doesn't allow for…romance happening if you live under the same roof.”

Joey grinned. “I'm a step ahead of you. I stopped in at Osseo's Bed-and-Breakfast today, and Rosalyn is willing to meet Susanna. Rosalyn could use help around the place in exchange for the rent. She likes the fact that Susanna has an Amish background. And I sang Susanna's praises pretty loudly.”

Beatrice chuckled. “I imagine you did. And just so you know, your dad and I both approve of Susanna for you. We never dreamed you'd find an Amish girl to marry!”

“We're not married yet,” Joey whispered as the music stopped. “I have a long way to go in that department.” He moved away from his mother to call to Susanna, “Keep playing. That's beautiful.”

Susanna's face was flushed when Joey peeked at her around the corner. “You shouldn't have been listening,” she said. “I thought only your mother was here.”

“I just got here.” He sat down beside her on the piano bench. “I have good news. I think I've found a place for you to stay.”

“You have?” Susanna's face lit up. “Where?”

“I'll tell you all about it at supper. How's that?”

Susanna bounced to her feet to exclaim, “Supper! Oh! I almost forgot. I made potatoes and gravy tonight, and canned beans from the Amish stand down the road. They're ready on the stove whenever you want to eat.”

Beatrice glanced at Joey and shrugged. “I told her she didn't have to, but old habits die hard, I guess.”

“I have to help out somewhere!” Susanna declared. “And I don't
know much besides cooking and sewing, so that's what I do.” She left the two of them and hurried toward the kitchen.

“She's something,” Beatrice said when Susanna was gone.

“Should I go with her into the kitchen and offer to help?” Joey asked. “I'm not sure how to act.”

Beatrice shook her head. “Not so much to help. Just be there, but also give her some space. She's like a wounded animal.”

“Yeah, and I've never cared for a wounded animal. I'm not sure how to behave.”

Beatrice glanced toward the kitchen and the sounds of rattling dishes. “If you can figure out how an Amish man would act, that might be a good start.”

Joey shrugged. “Exactly how does an Amish man act? I don't have a beard, and I'm not going to sit in the living room and wait until the woman has supper ready.”

Beatrice laughed. “Just be yourself then.”

“That's sounds better,” Joey said as he turned to head for the kitchen.

“It's almost ready,” Susanna told him.

“Can I help?” Joey asked.

“Usually the men don't help in the kitchen. That's in the Amish world. Most of them only know how to wash dishes.”

“Then I'll be Amish.” Joey sat in one of the kitchen chairs. “I cooked a carrot cake once when I was younger, but that was with a cake mix.”

“That's not exactly fair, you know.” Susanna lifted a lid on a steaming pot and peered inside. “You should try it from scratch sometime.”

“I suppose I should,” Joey allowed. “But enough on my faults for one day. That's a nicely made dress you have on. You made it?”

Susanna blushed and looked away. “I tried my best, but I'll get better before long—until I can afford something better.”

“Looks good enough to be store-bought to me,” Joey said.

Susanna didn't look convinced and raised her eyebrows at him. “No, it's not that good. Homemade is still homemade.”

Joey let it go. “So do you want to hear about your possible new home…for now?”

“
Yah
, while you set the table.”

Joey grinned. “That I know how to do.” He got up and busied himself with knives and forks. “There's a job and a place to stay at a bed-and-breakfast. The owner, Rosalyn Osseo, will give you your own room and a small salary in exchange for cleaning and helping out in the kitchen. I told her we'd drop by after supper if you're interested.”

“
Yah
, I'll go. I'm a little nervous and don't know how to handle myself, but I trust your judgment. If you can assure me this Rosalyn isn't taking me in because she feels sorry for me, then it's okay.”

“She's not!” Joey said. “Rosalyn's a kindhearted soul, and our family has known her for years. But she doesn't tolerate people who are…” Joey stopped and searched for the right word. He didn't want to offend Susanna, and she didn't fit the description anyway.

Susanna finished for him. “Moochers?”

Joey grinned as he set two plate settings. “Something like that.”

Susanna appeared satisfied, but her face clouded when she looked at the two plates. “Aren't your mother and father eating with us tonight?”

“We'll eat later, Susanna,” Beatrice called from the living room. “Langford doesn't come home until late, and I'll warm things up for him.”

“Okay,” Susanna said. “I'm just not used to the family eating in shifts. We always ate together, even if it meant postponing the meal
for an hour or two if something came up.” She served up dinner and brought it to the table.