Along Wooded Paths (32 page)

Marianna looked around the room. As always happened, a few of the older men had dozed off. A few men—Uncle Ike and Sarah’s father, Mr. Shelter—nodded. But most of the others seemed distracted. Small children snacked on cereal. One mother opened her handkerchief to show her child a small toy tucked away. The woman gazed at her son as he played, and from the look on her face she didn’t even notice Dat was speaking.

“Even though we have chosen to live by the traditions of our ancestors, we must remember our salvation comes through Jesus Christ alone.” Dat scanned those listening. “We do not judge each other because that is not our place. But some day Amish and Englisch alike will stand before God in heaven and He’ll have one question to ask, ‘Did you know My Son?’”

Dat continued for an hour, sharing stories from God’s Word about men and women who’d done great things for God. He also shared stories of those who’d failed at having faith in God as they should. After each story, he returned to the point. “They too will be asked the same question. Jest like you and I. Jest like our neighbors down the road. ‘Did you know My Son?’”

When he finished, Dat followed tradition and asked for
zeugnis
—for other men to testify that what he’d preached was God’s word. Marianna’s heartbeat quickened as many men shared their encouragement.

As the service came to a close, announcements were made about the women’s Saturday morning gathering at the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery, and the fact the service in two weeks would be held at the Shelter’s home.

The service ended, and everyone rose and spoke among themselves. A few men hurried outside to grab the legs that would convert their benches into tables for lunch.

Marianna moved to the kitchen, opening jars of church spread, which was a combination of peanut butter and marshmallow cream. Other women set out knives, cups, and water. Some sliced thick pieces of bread.

Sarah came to stand next to her and helped open jars of red beets and pickles.

“I liked your dat’s sermon very much.”

“Thank you. He only desires to serve.”

“What he said is true about us loving those in the community. We have much to be thankful for. The way they’ve helped us. The way they point us to God. I bet your dat would like the prayer meeting too.”

Marianna noticed Mrs. Peachy approach and cleared her throat. “So, Sarah, do you work tomorrow?”

“
Ja
.” Sarah followed her lead and changed the subject. “I do work, so I’ll see you there . . . and maybe in the evening too.”

Marianna knew what she was asking. Sarah wanted her to attend that prayer meeting. Tension built inside Marianna, but she knew the answer she wanted to give. “
Ja
. Maybe you can come stay the night over. We can do some baking.”

Sarah nodded. “I’d like that.”

Marianna didn’t have time to talk to Sarah about the details before her Uncle Ike approached. “Marianna, can I talk to you?”

His brow was furrowed. His eyes flashed deep concern.

“
Ja
, of course.” She looked around, but there wasn’t anywhere they could go to be alone. Uncle Ike pointed upstairs and she followed him to Ellie’s room. A few toddlers played with Ellie’s toys in the corner. They’d never understand their Englisch words.

“I hear that you were talking all about Aaron yesterday at the quilt circle. That you’re considering returning to Indiana with him.”

She cocked her chin. “News travels fast, but yes . . . I suppose that is no surprise.”

“What about Ben?” Uncle Ike stroked his beard. “Do you not care for him?”

“Ben? When did you become concerned with Ben? Wasn’t it just a few weeks ago that you came by my work and brought me home to visit with Aaron?”

“
Ja, ja
but that was before I understood the depth of Ben’s feelings. He’s spoken to me about you.”

Marianna shook her head. “Uncle, to have a relationship with Ben would be to leave the Amish. You would not wish for that.”

She waited for him to agree with her.

Instead, her Uncle Ike glanced out the window. “I know Ben’s love for God. He is a good man. He would be a
gut
spiritual leader.”

“And Aaron . . . are you saying he wouldn’t?”

Uncle Ike sighed. “Aaron is a good
Amish
man. There is a difference.”

“Marianna!” Mem’s voice called up the stairs. “Are you up there? I need your help. Can you come watch Joy? I need both hands for this food.”

She walked to the doorway and called down to Mem. “
Ja
, I’ll be right down. Just checking on the toddlers up here.”

“
Denke
.”

Marianna turned back to her uncle.

“I know what I want. Who I want. I know the type of life I want to lead. I’m not sure why you doubt that.”

Uncle Ike didn’t respond, but she could tell from the way he crossed his arms over his chest that he didn’t agree.

She hurried downstairs, but thought she heard him saying something after her. She wasn’t sure, but she thought his words were, “I will pray for your soul . . .”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

No matter how many times he played, a little buzz of nervous energy echoed in Ben’s chest as he approached the mic.

Tonight was no different.

The venue was half coffeehouse, half bookstore. The place was twice as big as the restaurant area of the Kootenai Kraft and Grocery. It didn’t seem like it, though, once the people filed in, packing the house. They dressed in designer clothes—men with $5,000 watches and women with rings worth ten times that.

Whitefish, Montana, was only sixty miles from West Kootenai, but it was a world apart.

Most people came to Whitefish to get away, but they didn’t do too well at that. They bought second homes with the same luxuries as they’d left in places like L.A., Atlanta, and New York. Roy had mentioned having connections, but Ben hadn’t expected anything like this. If someone in this crowd liked Ben and his songs, they could no doubt get on the phone, make a few calls, and he’d be on a jet plane to Nashville or Los Angeles by tomorrow night.

Ben approached the stool and leaned in to the mic. “Thank you so much for being here. Tonight I’m going to share some songs I wrote. I’ve lived north of here for a couple years now, and I don’t know about you, but this place inspires me.”

Whispered approval and acknowledgment carried through the crowd.

“The first song”—a quiver in his voice brought him pause—as did memories of his performances in Los Angeles. He’d gotten wrapped up in the fame, and in women. It was hard to believe that had been his life, but he wasn’t like that now.

This time it would be different.

“This first song came about after I spent the day chopping wood for a family. I thought about the simple things in life, the things that matter most. About the good ache after a hard day’s work. A cup of hot coffee after coming in from the cold. The sight of a loving smile.” Marianna’s face filled his mind. “And wanting to share my cabin with someone.”

Ben started the refrain on his guitar. The voices of the crowd quieted even more and he began.

“Got my cabin deep in the woods

But need somethin’ more to call it all good

To fill the aching hole in my life—

Cuz every warm cabin

Needs a good wife . . .”

He finished the song, and for a moment the room was silent. Then applause filled the room. He glanced around and noticed tears in the women’s eyes. A few folks had their cell phones out to take photos of him. He noticed some guys approaching Roy in the back. Roy nodded and gave Ben a thumbs-up.

Ben smiled as he settled into his stool even more. He started the next song—one of his old ones that he and Roy had reworked. The room stilled. He started singing about not realizing he’d seen love until he saw it through the rearview mirror and realizing it was too late. He sang with emotion, passion—and could see how the crowd was awed, moved.

He should have been ecstatic. But . . .

He was doing exactly what the song said. Leaving love.

Just as he was about to start his third song, Ben scanned the crowd and stopped short on the beautiful woman standing near the back. Carrie offered him a slight smile and wave. He could read an apology in her gaze. He guessed she was here because her father had told her about Marianna—and Ben’s decision not to pursue her any longer.

The songs flowed from his lips and between each one he talked about going into the woods, talking to God, and discovering life in new ways. Roy was right, the crowd loved it. They all stayed until the last song, then, when he was done, gave him a standing ovation.

Ben smiled and shook hands, and then put his guitar away. He was introduced around—to important people—but in the back of his mind all he could think about was Marianna.

What was she doing? Would she bake cinnamon rolls in the morning? Did she think about their last time together as often as he did? Did she remember the feeling of his arms around her as clear as he remembered her settling into his embrace?

When almost everyone else had cleared out, Carrie wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so proud of you. That was fantastic.”

“Yeah, it was a good night.” He stepped back from her hug.

“What’s wrong?” Carrie’s eyes searched his face.

“Just tired I suppose.”

“You staying at my dad’s tonight?”

Ben nodded, but he took another step back. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. He wasn’t pursuing Mari, but he wasn’t pursuing anyone else, either.

“Great.” Carrie threaded her arm through Ben’s and squeezed. “I’ve been practicing and I can make some great French toast.”

The wheels of the buggy squeaked against the snow. It was the only sound in the night. Marianna held her breath, hoping that the sound of the horse and buggy hadn’t woken Dat. She couldn’t believe they were doing this—sneaking out to go to a prayer meeting.

When Sarah arrived earlier with her ankle bandaged up from a fall on the ice, taking the buggy to the prayer meeting had been their only choice.

Marianna considered staying home, but something inside told her to go. She needed prayer. She needed the peace of God. She needed the support of others. And so, thirty minutes after everyone had headed for bed, she and Sarah snuck out to the barn, hooked up the buggy, and headed out.

They crested the hill and a ways down the road she saw the Carashes’ house. At least a dozen cars and a few buggies were parked outside. When they neared, Mr. Shelter was waiting.

“Hello, Marianna, welcome. Why don’t you and Sarah get inside. I’ll take care of the buggy for you.”

“
Denke
.” Marianna handed him the reins. She climbed down and took in a deep breath, holding it as she entered. She’d eyed the vehicles as they approached and hadn’t seen Ben’s truck, but as she walked though the front door she couldn’t help letting her eyes scan the room, just in case.

Ben wasn’t there.

Many people greeted her. Most she knew from the store. All of them smiled and told her and Sarah they were glad they were there. They chatted for a while before Mr. Carash asked them to find a seat. Marianna moved to a chair in a far back corner. Sarah joined her.

“Thank you for coming. For those of you who are new here, we don’t have a schedule we follow. Every week we just come together and pray. Sometimes we share requests and take turns praying for each other. Tonight—with Thanksgiving so close—I wanted us to pray silently, thanking God for what He’s done in our lives. In a little while I’ll close us in prayer. At that time if you want to join in and pray a word of Thanksgiving out loud, feel free to do so.”

Marianna watched as everyone lowered their heads, and she did the same. So far, this wasn’t much different from the Amish silent prayer. As she sat there, she thanked God for her family. For keeping Aaron safe in that accident. For being raised by parents who loved each other and loved their children. For making her able to work and help others. She also thanked God for Ben’s purpose in pointing her to God, and she prayed that God would be with Ben wherever he was.

After a while Mr. Carash prayed out loud. “Thank You, Lord, for those in this room. I thank You that we are allowed to meet together in prayer. I thank You that we know of Your ways and Your love and we don’t have to try to walk through life without You.”