A Man of His Word (16 page)

Chapter 7

M
oriah tapped her fingers against the kitchen table, the sound a steady, monotonous tattoo that broke the silence of the empty house. John had left a short while ago after she’d convinced him she’d be all right until Levi came home. She had gone along with the ruse, unable to tell him about her husband’s letter. He had seemed so weary by the end of the day, she knew he needed to lie down and rest in his own room, in his own comfortable bed.

She stilled her fingers, antsy but annoyed with the noise. Rising from her chair, she peered out of the kitchen window into the dark, cold night. The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon an hour ago. Gabriel should have been home by now.

Her stomach twisted itself into another knot. Not only because of the nausea of the pregnancy, but because her mind was completely occupied with Levi. Had Gabriel been able to persuade him to return? Maybe Levi had been drinking when he wrote the letter, so he wasn’t in his right state of mind. But she dismissed that outright—his words had been clear, his writing steady. Besides, she had never known her husband to touch alcohol. Letting out a sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest to ward off the sudden chill that had infiltrated her body.

Where was Gabriel? More importantly, would he have Levi with him?

All she wanted was for her husband to be here, to tell her the letter was a mistake, to reassure her that everything would be all right between them from now on.

But something deep inside chipped at her, causing fresh wounds, telling her that her hopes were fruitless. Nothing would be the same again.

A sharp knock sounded behind her. Whirling around, Moriah ran to the door and flung it open. She took one look at the man standing in the doorway and for a fraction of a second, her heart soared. Levi had returned!

But it wasn’t Levi gazing at her. It was Gabriel, his eyes filled with sorrow and regret. Her hopes had played tricks with her eyes, and her heart.

She stepped back until her waist banged the countertop. Reaching behind her, she gripped the cold Formica, forcing herself not to sway. She’d fallen apart in front of Gabriel the night before; she refused to do it again.

“I’m sorry, Moriah.” His voice was thick, as if his vocal cords had tightened up. “I tried talking to him. I really did.”

The droop of his shoulders spoke more than his words ever could. She realized he had taken the burden of his brother’s betrayal on himself and had tried to make everything right. But he couldn’t, and it was tearing him apart. She could see that, plain as day. Forgetting about herself for the moment, she gestured for him to come inside.

“Cold night tonight,” she said lamely, shutting the door behind them. “Come warm yourself.”

He took off his hat, walked into the kitchen, and dropped into the nearest chair. Moriah followed him. Looking into his ragged face, she said, “It’s all right, Gabriel. Thank you for trying.”

Gabriel ran his hand through his hair as he tossed his hat on the table. With a sigh he looked at her. “He’s not coming back, Moriah.”

“I know.” She sat across the table from him, a numbing cold infiltrating her body, as if she’d been submerged in a tub of ice. “What did he say?”

Gabriel stared down at his fingers. He curled them inward to his palms, making two fists. “He doesn’t want to be Amish anymore. Too many rules.”

From his vague explanation to the way he avoided looking directly at her, she suspected he wasn’t telling her the whole truth. “That’s it?”

“
Ya
. That’s it.”

His words sliced through her. “Did you tell him about the baby?”

A long moment passed before he answered, compassion in his eyes. “
Ya
.”

She swallowed. “I see.” She had to look away from him, unable to face the pity she saw in his gaze.

“I can’t believe he did this to you,” Gabriel muttered. “I could . . . I swear, Moriah, I could—”

With a gasp, she glanced up to see his full mouth stretched in a straight line. His hands were still clenched so tightly she thought his knuckles would snap. “What did you do?” she whispered, afraid to hear the answer.

His hands relaxed. “
Nix.
I did nothing.”

She breathed out a sigh of relief. “Praise God.”

“How can you say that? He deserves the worst for what he’s doing to you.”

“Gabriel,” she said softly, reaching for his hand. “Just because he turned his back on our beliefs doesn’t mean you should.”

His eyes met hers, anger still sparking in them. “How can you not—”

“Hate him?” She looked away. A part of her did, but she had to overcome it. She had to be strong for their baby’s sake. Tending the bitter weed of hate would only cause it to grow and overtake every aspect of her life. That wouldn’t be fair to the child blossoming inside her. “God will see me through this. He will see us all through it . . . even Levi.” Her eyes moistened, and she looked at him through misty vision.

He disengaged his hand from hers, and for a split moment, she missed its comforting warmth.

“I have to tell
Daed
,” he said. “I don’t know what this will do to him.”

“Wait until morning,” Moriah said. “He was very tired.”

“I’m worried.” Gabriel sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s not as strong as he used to be, but he still wants to work in the shop. I’m afraid he’ll hurt himself. But how can I tell him to quit?” He let out a bitter, flat chuckle. “It’s not like I can just fire my father.”

They were silent for a long time, lost in their own thoughts, dealing with their own emotions.

Then Moriah finally said, “I’ll move back home tomorrow.”

Gabriel’s gaze shot to her. “You don’t have to do that. You can stay here.
Daed
and I don’t mind.”

“
Nee
, I cannot. This isn’t my home anymore.”

“Moriah, it will always be your home. You can stay here as long as you like.”

She shook her head. “Gabriel, I have to leave. You know that. You and your father can move back into the house. I’ll be fine with my family. Once I tell them what happened, they’ll understand.” She closed her eyes, humiliation rising through her at the thought of telling her parents that her husband had left her, and for no other reason than he didn’t want to be Amish anymore.

Pushing away from the table, she said, “I’ll pack my things in the morning. Would you mind taking me back home?”

He stood and stepped toward her. “Moriah, I mean it. You don’t have to leave.”

Her bottom lip began to quiver. Why couldn’t she be strong? Pressing her teeth down for a split second to quell the movement, she then said, “I want to go home. I need my family right now. So does my child.”

He opened his mouth as if to protest once more, but then clamped it shut. “I understand. I’ll take you home whenever you’re ready.”

“
Danki
. And thanks for trying to convince Levi to come back. I know it had to be a hard thing to do.”

“Harder than I thought.” He looked at her for a moment. “I don’t think you should be alone tonight. Mind if I bunk in downstairs? I can sleep on the couch.”

A tiny thread of relief wound its way through her. He must have read her mind, as she dreaded being alone in the big house. Too many memories, too much loneliness. “I don’t mind. In fact, I’d appreciate it.”

Tobias nursed the last dregs of his coffee in the nearly abandoned dining room of Mary Yoder’s. There were only three other customers left in the restaurant—a tiny, elderly couple eating two crumbly pieces of apple pie and a rotund man, who looked only a few years older than Tobias, busily slurping the last watery droplets of his iced tea.

He didn’t know what he was doing here. Mary Yoder’s served good Amish food, but his mother’s was ten times better. Besides, he’d already had dinner and dessert at home a couple hours ago before hitching up his horse and ending up at the restaurant. For some reason he’d felt restless tonight, and spending the evening at home alone didn’t appeal. Everyone had plans for tonight—his parents were visiting an elderly neighbor, Elisabeth and Ruth were spending time with some of their girlfriends, and Stephen and Lukas were making some extra money helping their cousin clean out a barn in West Farmington.

He’d thought about doing some extra work in the woodshop, but he’d spent the entire day in there. All work and no play made Tobias dull indeed. At least he thought so. Although he did have a good time working today, except for cutting his fingertip on one of the saw blades. But he’d cut his fingers and hands so many times over the years. One more slice on his skin didn’t make a difference.

Tapping his foot on the carpeted floor, he sucked down the last drink of coffee and signaled one of the bus girls for the check. She was about the age of his sister Elisabeth, who couldn’t wait to finish school and start working outside the home. No doubt so she’d have ample opportunity to flirt with guys. He’d noticed how boy-crazy she’d gotten in the past couple months. He suspected his mother would have her hands full once Elisabeth turned sixteen.

The bus girl nodded at Tobias and went to get his server. When Rachel appeared, he hid a smile. As she had when he arrived, she looked less than pleased to see him. With determined steps she walked to the table, crossed her arms as she usually did when she was around him, and looked down the length of her cute little nose. “What do you want now?”

He leaned back in the chair, his restless spirit inexplicably easing. He pointed to his coffee cup. “I’m done.”

“About time.” She pulled out a computer-printed ticket from inside her apron, as if she’d been waiting all day to give it to him. “Here.” She put it down on the table. “You can pay up front.” She took the cup from the table and walked away.

He looked at the amount on the ticket, then stood. Digging out his leather wallet from his trousers, he felt two pennies in his pocket. He knew leaving such a cheap tip would get a rise out of Rachel, and he couldn’t resist the opportunity. Retrieving the coins, he dropped them on the table, then walked out of the dining area and into the gift shop.

He passed Amish crafts of all kinds and noticed a couple of wooden train sets his brother Lukas had made a few months ago, hoping to sell them for an extra bit of pocket money. There were also candles, books, and stuffed animals available for purchase. He approached the empty bakery counter where the cash registers were located. The manager, a Yankee woman, took his ticket and rang up the total. “$1.25,” she said.

He gave her two dollars, then took out another five from his wallet. “Could you give this to my server, please? Just don’t tell her it came from me. If you could add it to the rest of her tips, I’d appreciate it.”

The manager tilted her head and gave him a strange look, but nodded. “I’ll be happy to do that. Are you sure you don’t want to just put this on your table, though?”

“Positive.” He stuffed his wallet back in his pocket and adjusted his hat. “Thanks for the coffee. You all have a good evening.”

“You do the same.”

Tobias grinned as he left the restaurant.
Ya
, Rachel would be steamed when she saw the measly tip he left her. He almost wished he could witness the volcanic explosion of temper when she picked up the two cents. As he entered the parking lot and headed for his buggy, he thought about the spark that would light up her blue eyes, the lovely rosy glow that would spread across her creamy cheeks, the—“Tobias Byler!”

He halted in his tracks at the zinging sound of Rachel’s voice behind him. Turning around, he watched with amusement as she stomped forward, fury pulsating from her like an old wood stove belching heat.

Boy, he’d gotten her good.

“What is
this
?” she said, holding out the pennies in her hand. “Do you think this is funny? I work hard for my tips. Very hard.” She threw the coins at him.

He held up his hands in a weak defense as the pennies ricocheted harmlessly off his pants leg. “You gave me
one
cup of coffee,” he said blandly. “That’s it. Big deal.”

“You . . .
you
. . .” Her body started to tremble as she sputtered.

Was she that angry? Suddenly realizing that it was below thirty degrees and all she had on was her short-sleeved dress and apron, he whipped off his coat. “Here, put this on. You’re freezing.”