Anna's Return (29 page)

Anna pressed a kiss on Gracie’s damp curls as she opened the book of nursery rhymes. If they left, Gracie would lose this peaceful setting, the stable upbringing, the love of a large family.

But if they stayed, she would lose everything the world valued—higher education, the latest technology, clothes and cars and all the rest of it.

The choice might not be Anna’s to make. The thought lay under the tale of Jack and Jill as she read.

There had been no news from Liz. She clung to that as she read a Bible story, said prayers, and tucked them into their beds with hugs and kisses. Gracie was already half-asleep, and she curled under her blanket without a fuss.

Sarah took a few minutes to arrange her rag doll just so, but her eyes were drooping, too. With a last kiss, Anna went quietly out.

Myra stood in the hallway, looking heavy-eyed. “I fell asleep.” She sounded surprised. “Did you put Sarah to bed already? I should have.”

“You needed the rest. She went down fine for me, but she’s not asleep yet. Why don’t you go in and snuggle with her for a minute?”

Myra brushed her forehead with her hand, as if wiping away the wisps of sleep, and tiptoed into the room.

Through the half-open door, Anna could see that Gracie didn’t stir. Sarah sat up, holding out her arms to her mother, and Myra sank down on the bed, hugging her. Myra’s shoulders shook, and Anna tensed. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea for Myra to go in, not if she was going to let Sarah see her crying.

Perhaps Myra thought the same, because she straightened, talking softly to her daughter. She kissed her, tucking her in, and came out quickly.

“All right?” Anna closed the door.

“Ja.” Myra blinked, as if trying to focus. “I was just—” She stopped, hand on the door, and then leaned her head against it.

“Myra—” Anna wasn’t sure what to say. If only Mamm were here. Mammi would know what to say. The thought was like a sharp stone in her chest.

“Remember what it is like when they’re tiny babies?” Myra said, drawing away, still touching the door with her fingertips. “Remember how you could never stop worrying about the baby, even when she was sleeping, so you’d keep checking on her?”

“I remember.” Anna put her arm around Myra’s waist, urging her gently toward the stairs. “Sometimes I couldn’t hear her breathing, so I’d put my hand on her, just to feel the movement of her chest. It’s a wonder I didn’t wake her up every ten minutes, doing that.”

She could laugh at herself, looking back at it now, but at the time it had been terrifying to have that small life in her care.

Myra actually smiled. “Ach, I was the same. Maybe every mother is.”

Myra’s response sent a wave of relief through Anna. It was Myra’s own sweet smile. “Maybe so, but I didn’t have anyone to ask.”

“I’ll know better this time.” To Anna’s dismay, Myra’s face assumed that mask that declared everything was fine, but she thought she detected a few cracks in the facade.

“I think maybe we’d be a bit that way with every boppli, no matter how many we have,” Anna said carefully. “Loving each one as if he or she is the only one, a little like God loves us.”

“Of course we do. I will. My boppli is fine, he’s fine, he . . .” She stopped short, her lips trembling. “I can’t.” Her voice choked, and tears flowed down her face like a sudden downpour.

“It’s all right,” Anna murmured, and then was disgusted with herself. It wasn’t all right. Why couldn’t she think of something useful to say?

“What if I can’t do it?” Myra spoke through the tears, and the mask was gone for sure now. “What if I can’t take care of the boppli? What if I can’t love this one like I love Sarah?”

There it was, Anna realized as she put her arms around Myra. That was the fear at the center, the one Myra hadn’t been able to express.

“You will,” she murmured. “Some days you might feel as if you can’t, but when that happens, we’ll be there to help you. The family won’t let you down. God won’t let you down. You’re not alone. You know that, don’t you?”

For a long moment Myra didn’t respond. She just clung to Anna. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Ja,” she whispered, and the fierce grip of her hands eased. “Ja. I know that.”

The tension in Anna ebbed as well. Myra had taken the first step on a long, difficult road.

 

 

The
closer the buggy got to the Esch home, the more Anna wanted to run in the other direction. Coward, she chided herself, but it didn’t seem to do much good.

She glanced at Samuel. His strong face was shielded by the brim of his straw hat so that she couldn’t see his eyes, but she imagined that his tension had increased as well.

They had talked during the long ride, mostly about how Myra had been over the past few days. She had seen the counselor again yesterday, and again had come home quiet and withdrawn, but overall she seemed better. She talked rationally now about the baby, without the frantic optimism she’d displayed before, and she’d expressed a desire to talk to Bishop Mose.

Anna found she was watching Samuel’s sure hands on the lines. Other than expressing his deep concern for Myra, he’d kept their conversation casual, a far cry from the moments they’d shared that day in the arbor. Either Samuel didn’t feel comfortable pushing too close when she was preoccupied with this visit, or he regretted what had happened between them.

Either way, she should be glad of his retreat. She’d grown to care for Samuel, and she recognized the desire to let that caring ripen into something stronger. But she couldn’t do that, not when the future was so uncertain.

Samuel slowed the horse and made the turn into a farm lane. Her throat tightened, and she gripped the seat with both hands.

“Is it too late to change my mind about this?” She was only half-joking.

His gaze assessed her. “It’s natural to be nervous.”

“What if they don’t forgive me?” She asked the question, but she was afraid to hear the answer.

“If they refuse forgiveness, then the burden of that failure is on them.” He said the words as if no doubt existed in his mind.

“Don’t you think that quick forgiveness lets the sinner off too easily?”

“Easily?” He came to a stop some distance from the front porch but didn’t move immediately, seeming to ponder the word. “You have suffered for what you did, I think. Maybe you will continue to suffer. It is up to God. All we can do is follow His direction. Forgive, if we wish to be forgiven.” He jumped down and held out his hand to her. “Komm. They’re waiting for us.”

He was right—a man and woman stood on the porch.

“Aaron, Elizabeth.” Samuel took over, nodding gravely to them. “This is Anna Beiler.”

Anna’s voice seemed to have disappeared. She nodded, taking in the expressions on their faces. The man, his dark hair cut short in a bowl style, his beard wiry, looked at her with what seemed to be curiosity. But the woman—when Anna met her gaze, she felt as if she’d received a blow.

“Komm.” Aaron Esch spoke as he opened the door. “Wilkom to our home.”

They filed into the living room and took seats as solemnly as if they were going to church. And waited. Obviously Anna was supposed to speak first.

She cleared her throat. “Denke.” Her mouth was dry, so dry she didn’t know how she was going to get the words out. “I asked to come because I wanted to see you in person to ask for your forgiveness. I regret, so much, that my actions harmed your family.”

They looked back at her, their faces impassive. It was only now, when she thought it might not be granted, that she realized how important their forgiveness had become to her.

Finally Aaron nodded with deliberation. “It is gut that you feel so, but not necessary to ask. We forgave you long ago, as Christ commands.”

Something flickered in the woman’s eyes as he said the words, something hidden so quickly that Anna almost missed it. Maybe she only saw the feeling because she was sensitive to everything they did and said. And so she knew. Aaron might have forgiven her, as he said, but Elizabeth had not.

Anna’s heart seemed to wince. Was that so surprising? Would she forgive so easily if someone put Gracie in danger?

“Denke. I . . .”

A little girl ran into the room and stopped, obviously taken aback at the presence of strangers. She must have been about five or six, with big brown eyes that studied them curiously.

“Mary, komm, schnell.” The woman rapped out the words and reached for the child. The little girl’s face puckered, and she ran to her mother, burying her face in her mamm’s apron.

Another blow to her heart. That Elizabeth felt the need to protect her child from Anna—it was almost too painful to bear.

But she had to. That was why she was here.

“I have a daughter of my own now.” She centered her heart on Gracie, searching for the strength to go on. “I didn’t understand until I was a mother how terrifying it is when your child is in danger.” Her voice choked in her throat. Tears welled in her eyes. “I know now. You would suffer anything to spare your child.”

She wanted to say more, but the words failed her. She put up a shaking hand to wipe away her tears. Tried to speak again, but could only shake her head, covering her face with her hands.

“Don’t be sad.”

Anna was so sunk in her own guilt that she didn’t realize at first that it was the little girl who spoke. The child tugged at Anna’s hands, pulling them away from her face.

“Don’t cry. It’ll be all right. My mammi can make it better.”

Anna looked from the child’s sweet face to the mother, to see Elizabeth’s face crumple. Elizabeth held out her hand, and Anna took it.

Anna
walked down Main Street, remembering to adjust her stride to the casual stroll of an Amish woman instead of the fast pace of a city dweller. Samuel had wanted to pick up something from the hardware store on their way home, so they’d made a stop in town. Remembering that she was nearly out of Gracie’s vitamins, she’d decided to walk the two blocks to the pharmacy.

The maples that lined the town square were already changing color, and a crispness in the air declared that fall was really coming.

Despite her concerns about Myra and her fears of Pete’s actions, at this moment she felt only a strong sense of relief. It surprised her, in a way. She hadn’t fully realized how much her unpaid debt to the Esch family had weighed on her.

Had Bishop Mose understood that when she’d first come back? Maybe that had been behind his reluctance to let her kneel before the congregation to confess.

If she had confessed then, she’d have been faking it; she knew that now. She’d thought that would be the utmost in humiliation, but really, she’d have been trying to take the easy way out. Bishop Mose hadn’t let her go through the motions, and whatever happened to her in the future, she’d be forever grateful.

She pushed open the glass door of the pharmacy, catching a glimpse of herself as she did. To dress Amish meant to be stared at when you went into the English world, but it also gave her a pleasant sense of anonymity. She was any Amish woman, her hair and face half-hidden by the bonnet.

She dawdled in the baby supplies aisle, knowing she didn’t have to hurry. Samuel would dally over his transaction, getting all the news of town while he was at the hardware store.

Thinking about him gave her an odd little flutter in the region of her heart. He had understood, without question, her need to see the Esch family. He’d been confident she could do it—more confident in her than she’d been in herself. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he’d become so important in her life that it was hard to imagine doing without him.

She carried the vitamins to the counter, exchanging the usual comments about the weather with the clerk as she paid. She would go back to where they’d left the buggy, and Samuel would be waiting. They’d have another half hour or so alone together on the way home. Maybe she could find the words to tell him how much she appreciated his support.

She walked toward the door. Just as she reached it, a rack of newspapers caught her eye. She turned aside to read the headlines, and then glanced through the plate glass window at the street beyond.

Her breath stuck in her throat. Pete—that was Pete, walking across the street toward the square, peering around as if looking for someone. Looking for her.

She recoiled, grabbing the paper rack to steady herself. He couldn’t see her, surely he couldn’t. She stood safely away from the window. But if she hadn’t stopped at the last moment to look at the papers, she’d have walked out onto the street within twenty feet of him. Her heart thudded in her ears, nearly deafening her.

How could he be here? She moved carefully to the other side of the rack, peering toward the small park at the heart of the square. Pete sat down on one of the green benches, glancing up and down the street. He’d picked the perfect location to watch for her, able to see anyone going into or out of the Main Street shops.

Calm down. Think
. He wouldn’t be doing that if he knew exactly where she was. That gave her a chance.

But why hadn’t Liz called? Her mind skittered off in that direction. Liz must not have realized he’d left Chicago. She’d find out, probably, but by then it would be too late.

No, she wouldn’t let herself veer down that road. If she let panic take over, she’d lose. She pressed her fingers to her temple, a wordless prayer rising in her heart.

She had to get home, grab Gracie, and get out of here before Pete started working his way through the Beilers in the community. At least he wouldn’t find them conveniently listed in the telephone book. That would delay him for a while.

She could go to Rosemary. Rosemary would drive them to Mifflinburg, where they could get a bus to somewhere, anywhere.