Ray of Light (7 page)

“You have deer?”

“We sure do. But not as pets of course . . . they just wander around. Sometimes I'll be out in the barn with our horse, cracking the film of ice that's formed on the water troughs, when I'll look up and see a pair of bucks. It's a lovely sight.”

The picture he'd painted captured her interest, spurring her imagination. “Maybe one day I'll go up and see this Berlin.”

“You should. You and Regina can come up on the Pioneer Trails bus and stay with us.”

“Stay with you?” she blurted, taken aback.

“I live in a pretty big
haus
, my family's lived there for quite a while. Anyway, when you come, me and my family could show you around. You can visit my aunt Lorene's place of work—the cheese shop.” He winked. “We'll even drive you out to Walnut Creek and Sugarcreek. There's a lot to see.”

She laughed, because they were only pretending that she'd ever go up north. That she'd ever see him after he left. “You almost sound homesick.”

He slowed down and looked at her more carefully. “Not at all. I like home, but I needed a break. I like it here, too. I think you're a lucky woman, to live this close to the ocean.”

Amanda flinched. He was the first person in years to mention that she was lucky about anything. Most people looked at her in pity.

“Oh. I guess I stuck my foot in my mouth again, haven't I? I realize, of course, that you've lost your husband.”

“Actually, I was just thinking how grateful I am that you reminded me of my blessings. Sometimes, it's very tempting to only think about what I've lost and how different my life is from how I'd hoped it would be.”

He glanced at her for a long moment, his eyes serious, his gaze tender. Finally, he said, “It sounds like you had a good marriage.”

“I did. The best.”

Something flashed in his eyes, right before he looked forward again. “I am sorry about your loss.”

“
Danke
. My Wesley, he was a good man. He would have been a wonderful husband to me forever, I think. But I have Regina and Wesley's family.”

“His family?”

“Oh, yes. As I said, it's their condominium that I'm staying in.” Feeling a little braver, she said, “This is the first time since my husband died that I've done something on my own.”

“Doing something for the first time is always hard. Were you scared?”

“Honestly? A little bit. Before I was married, I was part of a big family. And spoiled enough to be born number six out of eight children.”

He raised a brow. “I've never heard of anyone calling themselves spoiled because they were from a large family. Usually that means they are used to sharing.”

“I'm used to sharing, but that's not what I was thinking of. Instead, I was thinking of the gift of privacy. And of being alone. If I had been the eldest girl, I'm sure I would have had to watch over the other
kinner
. But because I was one of the younger siblings, I didn't have to do much of that. So I developed a healthy taste for being alone. By the time I was twelve, one of my brothers and two of my sisters were already married. See, when you're always surrounded by siblings, half of who've been asked to always look out for you . . . it can be confining.”

“I know what you mean, to a point. Being the only boy, I was able to get time alone.” He seemed to want to say more, but instead he looked down at his feet and chuckled. “It looks like Goldie here needs a rest.”

 

The dog was sprawled across his feet, panting heavily. Amanda pointed toward a spigot. “If you have something to hold water, we could fill it up.”

Roman looked around, found someone's abandoned paper ice cream bowl wedged under a rock, and pulled it out. “This should do, if we rinse it out.”

“I think so,” she said, taking it from him. “I'll be right back.”

“
Nee
, I'll do it,” he said quickly. “This dog is my responsibility. I should be getting the water.”

“I don't mind. You stay here with Goldie,” she said over her shoulder as she walked briskly to the public water fountain.

As Roman looked after her, looking more than a little chagrined, she heaved a sigh of relief. That man might be thinking she was all about being helpful, but she knew the truth. At the moment, she was only thinking about herself. She needed a few seconds to catch her breath and come to terms with how she was feeling.

Though she was enjoying the conversation with Roman, she didn't like how comfortable she felt with him. The feeling was far more scary than staying at the condominium by herself.

Though she knew better, she couldn't help but feel like she was betraying Wesley.

She knew deep down that wasn't what Wesley would want. When he was ill, and she was trying so hard to be brave and stalwart, he'd told her time and again to never stop living.

Of course, at the time, she'd had no inkling of what he was talking about. All she'd been able to focus on was the fact that one day very soon her husband would be going to heaven, and she'd never be able to look into his smiling brown eyes again. The pain of watching him suffer, coupled with the knowledge that she was losing him, had prevented her from thinking of anything else.

She'd pushed aside his efforts to talk about her future, about a life spent without him. For her, it was too painful to consider. For Wesley, it had been all he wanted to think about.

“You've got to move on one day, Mandy,” he'd murmured one evening when they'd been all alone and she'd been so tired she hadn't even bothered to light a candle. “One day, you're going to need to find someone else.”

“I'll be fine. And Regina will, too.” She'd been thankful for the dark room, hoping he wouldn't notice how she was lying. Because, really, how was she ever going to be fine without him?

“One day, you're going to be tired of being alone.”

“Nee
—
”

“And I want you to know that I'll be watching you from heaven, smiling,” he'd said, just as if she hadn't interrupted him. “I don't want you to mourn me forever.”

Back then, she couldn't imagine doing anything but mourning him. He'd been her world, her daughter's father.

But perhaps he'd been right.

Because at the moment, mixing with the guilt she felt about even thinking about Roman Keim in a romantic sense was a small sliver of exhilaration, too. She'd felt his interest.

And she'd felt interested, too. Reminding her that though she was a widow and a mother, she was also a woman.

It was only lately that she'd forgotten.

Chapter Eight

Even when she didn't understand why things happened the way they did, Lovina believed with all her heart that the good Lord always had a plan. Furthermore, she believed that His plan was the right and best one. When she was tempted to despair, she simply prayed harder.

She'd grown up believing that was true faith.

Her faith had gotten her through some of the toughest moments in her life.

She'd tried to pass this on to her children. Whether she'd been successful or not, she did not know.

For the life of her, she couldn't understand why God had decided that all of their secrets needed to come tumbling out, one right after the other, all at this time in her life. It seemed to her that His timing, while always impeccable, was somehow off the mark this time. All He was doing was causing havoc in their lives and making the lot of them very unhappy indeed.

But perhaps the Lord had been giving her the chance to make changes in their lives? Maybe He was now making everything a jumbled mess so they'd all be forced to make some changes?

Thinking about the brief conversation she'd had with Marie while sewing, Lovina looked across the small living room at her husband.

Either she could avoid things a little longer . . . or finally push her husband to make things right.

Feeling as if the Lord was at her shoulder, giving her strength, she knew there was only one option. “Aaron, what should we tell the family about Laura Beth and Ben?”

Half asleep in his ancient easy chair, he didn't even bother to open his eyes. “Nothing.”

“Well, why did you mention it to the family, then? You opened up a wasp's nest when you revealed you had another wife and child.”

One eye opened. “Lovina, it ain't their concern. All that happened long before they were born. It doesn't affect them. Not one bit.”

As Lovina smoothed out the pale yellow fabric she was making napkins out of for Lorene's wedding, she pursed her lips. She wasn't surprised by his answer. For over forty years, he'd been adamant that they only worry about the present, not the past. Time and time again he'd told her that nothing could be done to change what had already happened.

Mostly, his opinion had made sense. It certainly had kept their lives calm.

She'd done her best to abide by Aaron's wishes, to be the good and dutiful wife he'd wanted her to be. She'd even gone so far as to pretend that she wasn't curious about his first wife. Or his child.

The smart thing to do would be to say nothing and let this disagreement fade.

But it seemed she wasn't all that smart after all.

Or maybe she was just tired of being told what to think.

“Well, Elsie told me that their kitchen phone has been ringing nonstop. Our
kinner
are talking to each other. Before you know it, they're going to push us to talk about this. I know that is what Marie wants.”

Both eyes were now open. Sitting straighter, Aaron hardened his voice. “Marie has more to worry about than my marriage. Her husband is in some center because he's too weak to deal with his addictions on his own.”

The way he'd said “my marriage” stung. But what hurt even more was his lack of sympathy for their son. “Peter is not a weak man, Aaron. For the last twenty years, we've watched him farm this land, increase its value, be loyal to his wife, and raise three children. He is a good man who is going through a difficult time.”

Aaron lumbered to his feet. “I refuse to feel sorry for him, Lovina. He brought his problems on himself, and he should be able to solve them that way, too. I did.”

Her husband was as agitated as she'd ever seen him. His shoulders were stiff, and his expression was strained. And his voice . . .

His voice held a true note of sorrow in it. As if what had happened with his first wife and child was still a great source of pain for him.

Even though that accident had happened so very long ago.

Her heart went out to him. Because she loved him dearly, she pushed a little more. She knew from experience that the only way to heal a wound was to doctor it . . . not to merely cover it up. “You are being unfair to Marie, as well. She's our daughter, too, Aaron. The daughter of our hearts.”

He raised a hand and made a brushing motion. “Oh, you know what I mean. And you know also that Marie shouldn't be focusing on our problems when she has so many of her own. Why, you'd think she'd be spending every free moment she has praying for Peter's health and for him to return home.”

“Peter is getting help, and his well-being is in the Lord's hands now. That is why Peter left us, I am sure of it. The Lord guided him to this treatment center. I have a feeling we'll be glad he sought help.”

Now his expression matched his tone. “If he gets better, it is because the Lord wanted him to get better, Lovina.”

Of course the Lord had a lot to do with his improvement. But she also thought that the Lord had guided Peter to seek help, and that the Lord had given the doctors and therapists the tools to provide that help.

But Aaron would never understand her point of view. “Of course you are right,” she said instead.

She waited a moment, folding the edges of one of the napkins and pinning it down. Her hands were trembling a bit and she pricked herself.

She walked to the bathroom, got out a bandage, and neatly fastened it on her finger so that she wouldn't accidently stain the cloth.

Staring at her finger, she walked back to her chair. Yes, covering up cuts was good. Necessary. But trying to cover up their past? Their memories?

Their marriages?

She was beginning to think that that was one of the biggest mistakes she and Aaron had ever made.

It was time to bring things out in the open, to force the conversation, even if it was painful. Marriage was about having the difficult conversations, wasn't it?

She vaguely recalled her mother telling her that, back when she'd been in high school.

Back when she'd had such a crush on Jack and thought she was the luckiest girl in the world.

Grabbing her courage, she pressed. “You know, you never even told me much about Laura Beth and Ben.”

“We just talked about them.”

“No, we talked about why you didn't want to talk about them to the rest of the family. There's a difference.”

Starting to look resigned, he said, “I already gave you the chance to ask me anything you wanted.”

He'd given her one evening. She'd been eighteen and knew nothing about marriage and raising children. All she'd been aware of was how different Aaron was from Jack.

“You didn't say much then, or maybe I didn't really ask the right questions. I mean, what were Laura Beth and Ben like?”

His eyes widened. “What were they like?”

“
Jah
. I mean . . . was she a kind woman? Was she young? Pretty? Silly?” A thousand more questions bubbled up inside her. Lovina wanted to know a hundred details. Had she been shy or outgoing? Had she laughed a lot or been moody? And how had they met? And Ben? What kind of boy had he been? Was he the quiet type like Jacob, gregarious like Aden? Or was he more dutiful like Peter?

More than that, she wanted to know how happy he'd been with his first wife. How happy had his life been before they'd passed away, and he'd married her? Though it had all happened more than forty years ago, she worried that his memories were still as sharp, and that after all this time, she still couldn't compare with them.

After all this time, she ached to know her competition.

Lovina stared back at Aaron, begging him silently to tell her everything she wanted to know. To give her reassurance that she'd never been a poor copy of his first wife.

She wanted Laura Beth to suddenly become a person to her instead of a woman who she could never measure up to.

“Laura Beth . . . she was . . . ” His voice cracked, as if even saying her name was a difficult thing. “My Laura Beth . . . she was everything. That's what she was,” he finished. He stood up.

“And Ben?” She forced the question even though she was sure she didn't want to hear the answer.

“Ben?” A line formed in between his brows. “My Ben was my first-born son, that's what he was. The three of us . . . we were a family. A perfect, happy family.”

His words couldn't have been any more hurtful. Her pain couldn't have been sharper if he'd slapped her.

And the reality couldn't have been more clear.

Never had she been first in his heart. Never had he even attempted for her to be. She'd only been a substitute.

A copy of the perfect Amish woman who would always remain perfect in his heart.

She was still staring at him when he turned away and walked quietly out the back door.

Then she leaned forward and carefully folded the fabric into neat rectangles.

And realized that something else had happened. She'd never imagined she'd feel worse about herself than the night she'd come home from her homecoming dance.

But oh, she had been so terribly wrong.