The Forgiven (9 page)

Rebecca had an intense longing to sink right through the floor. But that was impossible, and she wouldn't run off as Sadie had done.

“Rebecca, would you give me a hand with the salads? And some of you can start carrying the sandwich trays and the lemonade out.” Ella Esh spoke as if nothing had happened, and Rebecca was profoundly grateful. She hurried to Ella's side and began dishing out macaroni salad as if it were the most important job in the world.

The crowd in the kitchen began to thin out as they started serving the lunch. “Denke,” Rebecca murmured to Ella.

“Ach, it's nothing.” Ella was brisk and angular, with cheeks as rosy as apples whatever the season. “You don't want to listen to anything Sadie Byler says. She's got a bee in her bonnet about her cousin Matt coming back and taking Isaiah's place. Everybody knows that.”

Ella made a shooing motion. “Go on now and get your lunch. I'll be out as soon as I start another pot of coffee.”

There was nothing to do but obey. Rebecca paused at the bottom of the porch steps, reluctant to join the rest of the church around the tables. What if they were talking about her? She made a detour around the side of the house to admire Ella's flower bed, where tulips, daffodils, and hyacinth bloomed profusely against the side of the house.

A flicker of movement caught her eye from the line of buggies parked along the lane. She frowned. Why was a woman wandering between the buggies? It was natural enough to see someone going back to her buggy to fetch something or perhaps to load something, but this woman was doing neither of those things. Instead she seemed to be drifting aimlessly from one buggy to the next.

A vague uneasiness took shape, sharpening when she realized who the woman was. Lovina Byler. Everyone knew Lovina wasn't well. They knew, too, that her husband or daughter generally kept a close eye on her when they were away from home.

Maybe she should get Sadie—but her heart rebelled at the thought of a conversation with Sadie at the moment. Instead she walked quickly toward Lovina. Maybe she could encourage Lovina to come back to the others.

The woman didn't seem to notice when she approached, not until Rebecca touched her arm lightly.

“Lovina? Are you looking for something?”

Lovina's eyes were misted, as if she might cry at any moment. She wore a puzzled, almost lost expression. “No. I don't think so.”

Poor soul. How terrible it must be to feel your mind slipping away.

“You haven't had your lunch yet, have you? Komm. I'll walk back to the table with you.” She tucked her hand securely in Lovina's arm and tried to steer her back toward the others.

Lovina took a few obedient steps and then stopped. “I have to find him.”

“Your husband? I'm sure he's back here with the others.”

“No.” Lovina pulled her arm free and turned back toward the buggies. “I have to find Isaiah. I don't know where he is.”

Isaiah, of course. Lovina didn't remember that her son had run off to the Englisch world. Tears stung Rebecca's eyes at the pain of the situation.

“I don't think he's by the buggies,” she said, as calmly as she could manage. “Maybe he's having lunch. Shall we go and see?” She couldn't lie very convincingly, but she tried.

Lovina shook her head. “I need the buggy, so I can go and find him.”

A shiver ran down Rebecca's spine at the thought of Lovina out on the highway alone in a buggy. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

Where was Lovina's family? Rebecca couldn't leave her alone while she went and found them, but she couldn't drag Lovina along in the face of her obsession with finding her lost son.

She looked toward the tables, and relief flooded through her. Matt and his uncle were headed toward them.

“Look, Lovina, here's Matt and Silas. I'm sure they'll help you.”

Matt, a little ahead of his uncle, reached them in time to hear her words. She sent him a look that combined pleading and sympathy, hoping he understood what was happening.

“What do you need, Aunt Lovina?” He put his arm around his aunt, his voice very gentle.

She shook her head, the lost look intensifying. “I have to find Isaiah. Where is he? I have to find him.”

Silas had reached them, and Rebecca saw the pain in his eyes as he spoke. “It's all right. I'm sure he'll be back soon. Komm.” He took Lovina's arm and urged her gently away toward the tables.

She held back for an instant, but then she nodded and walked docilely along with her husband.

“Denke, Rebecca.” Matt's voice was rough.

“I did nothing.” She looked into his face, expecting the pain she saw.

But there was more than pain written there. There was guilt, strong and unmistakable, so powerful it seemed to radiate from him. But why should Matt feel guilty about his cousin Isaiah's defection?

•   •   •

“Almost
finished.” Matt guided Josh's fingers to screw the hook onto the top of his birdhouse. “We'll put a wire on this, and then you can hang it up.”

“And then the birds will come and live in it. They'll really like it.” Josh's small face was alive with the joy of making something almost by himself.

“That's certain-sure. How could they help but like it, when you made it for them?”

“You helped,” Josh said quickly. “I couldn't do it by myself.”

“That's the best way of learning something, working alongside someone who already knows how to do it. One day you'll be able to teach someone else how to do it.”

Josh pondered that, blue eyes serious. “Maybe. If I had a little bruder, I could teach him, but I don't.”

“Maybe someday you'll have a cousin you can teach.” Matt said the word lightly enough. Unfortunately he discovered that he was picturing Isaiah standing where Joshua was, looking up at his big cousin with admiration.

How had Isaiah run so far off track as to jump the fence? Worse, never even getting in touch with his parents to let them know he was all right? He wasn't a sixteen-year-old, running off to enjoy his rumspringa. He was twenty-two, old enough to be taking on a man's responsibilities.

Trying unsuccessfully to push his errant cousin out of his thoughts, Matt showed Joshua how to attach the wire from which the birdhouse would swing. Too bad the process didn't take up more of his attention. He couldn't help thinking of Aunt Lovina, trying so hard to find Isaiah after worship yesterday. Isaiah should have been there to put his arm around her and reassure her when her mind slipped. How could he treat her so?

It was Rebecca whose loving heart had seen something was amiss, Rebecca who'd gone quickly to the rescue. He suspected that would always be her response to someone in trouble.

“What's wrong?” Joshua took a step back, looking at Matt with wide eyes.

Matt glanced down, realizing that he'd gripped the wire so tightly it had cut his finger. A drop of blood welled up and dripped down.

He shook it off impatiently. “It's fine. The wire is a bit sharp, and I should be paying more attention to what I'm doing, ain't so?”

Joshua nodded, but his eyes were wary. Did he realize that it had been anger, not inattention, that rode Matt?

“Now we'll just twist the wire together, and your birdhouse is ready to hang. Why don't you run and show your mammi? Just be careful with holding the wire.”

Obviously he wasn't fit company for a child when his temper could get out of control that easily. It would be best for Joshua to be off.

But Joshua grabbed his hand, tugging it. “You come, too. You helped.”

The boy was so eager that Matt didn't have the heart to disappoint him. He let himself be led out of the workshop and tugged toward the farmhouse.

What was wrong with him? Every time he thought he had his temper vanquished, it jutted its ugly head up again. If all he'd been through hadn't beaten it down, maybe the task was hopeless. He knew only too well how short the step was between losing his temper and striking out. If he couldn't obey the most basic Amish commitment to nonviolence, how could he be Amish?

Rebecca was bending over the flower bed at the side of the house, Katie beside her, when Joshua went running to her, the birdhouse bouncing from the wire he held.

From a few steps behind, Matt heard his excited voice. “Look, Mammi. Look, Katie. See what I made? It's for the birds, and they'll come and live in it, and I'll watch them.”

Rebecca knelt and held out her arms to her son, stopping his headlong rush with a laughing gesture. “Slow down a minute, Josh.” Her hand stilled the birdhouse's swinging. “Look at that. It's a beautiful birdhouse. You really made it?”

“I did.” He glanced at Matt. “Not all by myself. Matt showed me what to do.”

“That was very nice of him.” Her smiling gaze swept up to Matt's face, and for just an instant he felt as if he were losing his balance. “Denke, Matt.”

“Joshua learned very fast. He did most of it.” He intercepted a doubting look from Katie and grinned at her. After a startled moment, she managed a slight smile in return.

“Katie, look at this little perch by the door for the birds to sit on. Didn't Josh do a good job?”

“I guess.” She moved a little closer, seeming reluctant to show any interest. “Maybe the birds would rather build their nests in trees.”

Josh's face clouded up, and Rebecca intervened quickly. “Probably some birds would rather be out in the woods in the trees, but there are others who would love a little house like this. Remember the wrens who kept trying to build a nest over the front door last spring?”

Katie nodded. “Grossmammi said wrens like being around people. Maybe they'd want to live in Joshua's little house.”

Rebecca smiled at her daughter as if she'd said the right thing. “Why don't you help Josh decide on a place to hang it? Maybe somewhere near the back porch would be good, and then you can watch the birds from the kitchen window without scaring them.”

“Komm schnell, Josh,” Katie said, and the two children raced off, the birdhouse bouncing between them.

Rebecca smiled after them and then switched the smile to Matt. “It was wonderful kind of you to go to all that trouble with Josh.”

“It wasn't trouble. I liked doing it.” He hesitated. He ought to be getting back to his own work instead of standing here talking to Rebecca. Unfortunately he seemed to have problems following his own good intentions where she was concerned.

“I wanted to ask you about Lovina. How is she?” Sympathy filled Rebecca's face. “I felt so useless yesterday—wanting to help her and not knowing how.”

“You were there,” he said gruffly. “That's about all any of us can do.”

“Especially when the person she really wants is Isaiah, ain't so? I didn't have a chance to tell you what she said to me.”

He shrugged. “She was looking for him, I suppose. Sometimes she sees me and thinks I'm Isaiah, and then she's hurt all over again when she realizes I'm not.”

“And you're hurt, as well.” Rebecca's voice was soft. “But yesterday—yesterday she said she was going to take the buggy and go look for him.” She hesitated, and a shiver seemed to go through her. “It frightened me, and I couldn't dissuade her. I was wonderful glad to see you and your onkel coming.”

That shook him. “I'll tell Onkel Silas. He tries to keep a close eye on her when they're out anywhere, but it's hard to do without making her feel that he thinks she's a child.” He longed to touch Rebecca's hand, but he restrained himself. “We were fortunate you were paying attention yesterday.”

She shrugged. “Ach, if it hadn't been me, it would have been someone else, I'm sure.” She hesitated, as if not sure whether to say more or not. “I wish . . . All of us wish . . . that Isaiah would come home. I'd never have thought he'd be so heedless of his family as to go away.”

“Nobody could believe it. Maybe that's what makes it so difficult.”

And how much of Isaiah's foolishness in running off to the Englisch world had come out of his wanting to copy the big cousin he'd always admired? Matt couldn't shake off the guilt, no matter what he told himself.

It was Rebecca who reached out, touching his hand lightly. “You're a gut man, Matthew, giving up your own life to come and help your aunt and onkel at such a time.”

A good man? Rebecca had a generous heart. But probably even she wouldn't think that if she knew everything there was to know about him. After all, she'd never seen him in the orange jumpsuit they made you wear in the county jail.

R
ebecca
pinned the double wedding quilt on the line to dry, smoothing it with her hand. The afternoon sunlight made the deep, saturated colors glow like jewels. Her grandmother had made the quilt, using scraps collected from dresses and shirts and pants she'd sewn for her family over the years.

Grossmammi had given it to Rebecca when she was married for her new life with Paul. Now it would cover the bed used by visitors in their house.

That was what Paul would have wanted, after all. He'd taken as much pleasure as she had in deciding what to put in the guest rooms.

She was going to entertain their guests without Paul. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

Determination stiffened her spine. The answer had come from her first guests quickly. Mr. and Mrs. Strickland had responded almost by return mail. They wanted to come next weekend. One way or another, she had to be ready. Everything should be at its best.

Movement caught her eye, and she spotted Simon coming out of the barn. She still hadn't set things right with him, and the longer she waited, the more difficult it would be. Dropping a handful of clothespins in her basket, she walked toward Simon, hurrying a little so he couldn't dodge her the way he'd been doing for the past week.

“Simon, wait a minute.”

He swung toward her, a bucket filled with chicken feed in his hand. “Rebecca.” He glanced at the bucket, as if wondering what he was doing with it, and set it down. “I guess I . . . I'm glad you're here. I want to talk to you.”

“That's good. I want to talk to you, too.” She kept her voice gentle, reminding herself that no matter how much Simon had annoyed her with his criticism, he was her little brother and she shouldn't have spoken so harshly to him.

“I'm sorry.” Simon rushed the words. “I didn't mean to make you mad.”

“No, I'm sorry.” She touched his shoulder, thinking how often she had comforted him this way when something went wrong. The only difference was that she had to reach up to touch him now. “I should never have spoken the way I did about Mary Ann and her mother. It was unkind, and it hurt you.”

To her surprise, he gave her a shamefaced smile. “Don't feel bad. Truth is, Mary Ann's mamm is hard to take sometimes, ain't so?”

Her tension relaxed. “I still shouldn't have said so. I do regret it.”

He grimaced. “You said nothing I haven't thought myself, that's certain-sure. Of course, Mary Ann's not like that at all.”

He sounded just slightly uncertain, and Rebecca bit her lip to keep from saying how often girls, especially oldest daughters, turned out just like their mothers. Simon wouldn't want to hear it from her, not now. He might have to find out for himself, but maybe he was starting to have second thoughts.

“Anyway, I'm sorry I butted in about opening the farm to visitors again. I know you're trying to do what Paul would have wanted.” Simon had rushed the words, and now he stopped for breath. “So if you still want me to help with showing them the farm chores, I will. Maybe it'll even be fun.”

Fun. That was one word she hadn't used to describe her intention to open the farm-stay, but if Simon found it so, that was all to the good.

“Denke, Simon.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them back quickly. “I'm wonderful glad you're willing to do it. It will make all the difference, having you working with me on the project.”

He nodded, looking embarrassed at her display of emotion. Manlike, he didn't know what to do about tears. “Come on. I'll help you hang the rest of those heavy quilts.”

Rebecca could do it herself easily enough, but she wasn't going to turn down a peace offering. She nodded, and together they shook out the next wet quilt and hung it on the clothesline.

“You're getting the bedrooms ready for guests, ain't so? We should talk about what you want me to do.” Simon put a final clothespin in place.

Rebecca nodded. “I've been thinking about it. Why don't we make a list of possible activities people can do around the farm? That way we can give folks some choices.”

“Sounds good.” He grinned. “I'd guess there might be some things we have to be careful about, too. I wouldn't want any Englischer getting too close to Daad's bad-tempered sow.”

“That's so.” It was yet another thing to worry about, it seemed to her. If someone got hurt, would she be responsible?

Simon bent to pick up the laundry basket, the movement hiding his face as he spoke. “Josh was telling me about building a birdhouse. He's sure a family of wrens is going to move in any day now.”

She shot a look at him, stiffening. “He's crazy about that birdhouse. He checks it a dozen times every day to see if birds are nesting in it yet.”

“He said Matt Byler helped him build it.” It sounded like a simple statement of fact, but she feared it was leading up to yet another lecture.

“Matt has been very kind.” She hoped the firmness of her tone would warn him not to repeat any more rumors about Matt.

“I know you think it's none of my business, Beck. But you can't blame me for worrying, can you?”

“I don't blame you for caring about me. But you have no reason to worry.” She kept her voice firm but even. She would not let him upset her again.

Simon gave her a pleading look. “Nobody knows what Matt was doing all those years he was gone. I just want you to be careful, so you don't get hurt.”

Exasperation flooded through her. What did Simon imagine? That she was going to lose her common sense over a charming smile?

“Simon, listen to me.” She touched his cheek to make him look at her. Her heart softened at his expression. Poor Simon. He just wanted to keep her safe. “No one can replace Paul in my heart. Do you understand?”

He nodded. “But—”

“There's no but about it. All I want to do is carry out Paul's dreams. Renting the stable to Matt will help me do it. The fact that he's been kind to the kinder is a plus, but it doesn't change anything. That's all Matt means to me.” She patted Simon's cheek. “That's all he can ever mean.”

•   •   •

Matt
felt the lift to his spirits that he always experienced when he turned into the gravel drive that led to his new workshop. He had to smile at his own feelings. The building wasn't a stable to him any longer, no matter how it looked. It was a workshop—his workshop—the place where he fulfilled his dreams.

The fact that he was already glancing beyond the building to the farmhouse where he often saw Rebecca had nothing to do with his feelings. This lightness of heart was caused by the opportunity to spend time working at what he loved, that was all.

Once the mare was settled comfortably, he swung open the double doors that had been meant to allow room for farming equipment to pass in and out. The more natural light he had to work by, the better.

Matt moved inside and stopped, frowning. The shaft of daylight from the doors illuminated the inside, all right. It also showed him that something was wrong. Someone had been in his work space.

He hadn't left his tools out of their box. Everything had been properly put away the last time he'd used them, a habit that was second nature to him. Now the tools were scattered across the workbench, with some even on the floor.

Stepping around them as carefully as a cat in a strange room, Matt let the indisputable reality sink in. Someone had been in the workshop while he was out. Moreover, it was someone who hadn't minded leaving the evidence of his trespassing scattered about.

The rocking chair Matt had nearly finished lay on its side. He knelt beside it, holding his breath. But the chair was all right—tipped over, but otherwise unharmed.

Well. This could turn into a problem bigger than an overturned jar of screws. If Rebecca's kinder had been in here while he was gone—

He pictured Josh's face in his mind. The boy had been so excited about his birdhouse, and he'd seemed genuinely grateful to Matt for helping him. Surely he wouldn't come in and make a mess in Matt's workshop.

Still, a child might not consider this a mess. It was possible that Joshua had slipped out here while his mother was occupied with something else. Maybe he'd hoped to make another birdhouse, or had intended to show Katie how to do it. Matt's blood chilled at the thought of Joshua using his tools without supervision. Maybe he hadn't been doing such a good deed after all in working with the boy.

Whatever the answer, Matt had no choice but to talk with Rebecca about it. He couldn't run the risk of a child being hurt because his tools were here.

Quickly, before he could find an excuse not to do what had to be done, he walked out of the workshop and headed for the house.

Rebecca was often out in the yard at this time of day, but not this afternoon. As he neared the kitchen windows he had a brief glimpse of her moving about inside. It would be best if he could talk with her privately, without the children listening in.

But when he reached the kitchen door, he saw that was unlikely. Both Katie and Josh were in the kitchen, busy setting the table for supper.

Matt tapped on the screen door. Rebecca turned from the stove, smiling when she saw him.

“Matt. I didn't hear you. Come in.”

He stepped inside, trying to form the words to tell her what had happened without putting too much emphasis on it. He didn't want to add to her burdens, but he certain-sure couldn't risk one of her kinder getting hurt.

“Can I help you with something?” she asked when he didn't speak. She seemed to realize she had a potholder in her hand and tossed it onto the counter.

“When I went into the workshop just now, I found . . .” He hesitated, feeling Joshua's gaze fixed on him—innocently, he thought. But it had to be done.

“Someone had been in there while I was gone. Someone who left a bit of a mess. I thought I'd better come and talk to you about it.”

Rebecca's eyes widened, and he had the sense that she was bracing herself to take on yet another challenge. She turned to look at her son.

Joshua stared back, just as surprised. “But that's mean. Who would mess up Matt's workshop?”

“It is mean, that's certain-sure.” Rebecca took a step toward the boy, her serious gaze intent on his face. “Did you go into Matt's workshop when he wasn't there, Josh?”

The boy's small face paled. “Me? I wouldn't do that, Mammi. Honest.”

“Maybe you wanted to try and make something yourself,” Matt suggested.

“No. I wouldn't.” Tears filled Josh's eyes. “I would never touch your tools unless you said it was all right.”

“Joshua—” Rebecca began.

“It wasn't him.” Katie almost shouted the words, and she slammed the spoons she held down onto the table. “It was me. I did it.”

Rebecca swiveled to stare at her daughter. “Katie? But why? Why would you do something like that?” She pressed her hands together as if in a prayer.

For a moment it seemed Katie wouldn't answer. Then the words spilled out of her. “The stable is Daadi's. He made it for his horses. Nobody else should be in there.” She swung toward her brother. “You shouldn't make things with
him
.” She shot an angry glance toward Matt. “That's not the way it's supposed to be.”

The naked pain on Rebecca's face as she went to her daughter pierced Matt's heart. He felt an instant revulsion at his part in this trauma. He never should have gotten involved with Rebecca. He always ended up hurting people, no matter what he did.

Rebecca sank down on a chair. She grasped Katie's hands and drew the child close. Katie was rigid, resisting, her clenched fists pressing against her white apron.

“Listen to me, Katie.” Rebecca's voice was soft, and he thought she struggled to hold back her tears. “I feel just like you do sometimes. I think that it isn't right that Daadi's gone. That we should keep everything the way it was when he was alive. But it's no use. We can't. We have to be strong and brave, like Daadi was. We have to get along without him, and that means we have to change.”

“No. I won't. I don't want to.” Katie's lips trembled.

“I'm so sorry, my sweet girl, but you have to. We all have to.”

“No,” Katie said again, but this time the anger was swept away by grief. Her voice broke, and tears spilled onto her cheeks.

“My sweet girl . . .” Rebecca said again, and she pulled her daughter close.

For just an instant, Katie leaned against Rebecca. Then she jerked away, still crying, and ran out of the kitchen. They could hear her feet pounding on the stairs.

Rebecca looked after her daughter, her expression bereft.

“I'm sorry.” He muttered the words. “I shouldn't have—” He stopped at a gesture from Rebecca.

“It's all right. Really. You did what you had to do. I wouldn't have it any other way.” She stood, resting her hand on Joshua's shoulder as if in wordless reassurance. “Katie doesn't cry. She hasn't, not since . . .” She stopped, shook her head. “Maybe it's for the best for her to let her feelings out.”

“Maybe.” Her words didn't assuage his guilt. “But I wish I hadn't been the one to bring it on.”

“It's not your fault, Matt. You must let me pay for the damages.”

“Nothing is broken. It's nothing I can't clean up. Anyway, it's as much my responsibility. I should have put a lock on the door when I moved my things in.”

“You shouldn't have to clean it up,” she began.

“I'll do it.” Joshua stood very straight. “Let me help.” He looked at Matt. “Can I?”

Matt glanced at Rebecca and caught a slight nod. “Okay. Denke.”

Joshua hurried to the door. Rebecca managed a small smile. “He wants to make up for what Katie did. Thank you for letting him.”