Arms of Love (32 page)

She turned her skirts in a huff.

“Nee, Lena, wait. I think . . . I think he is ready to do it now. To enlist.”

The words caught at her like cruel fingertips, and she stood still.

“Why do you say that, John? Is that what he said?”

“No,” John said. “Not exactly. But I could tell he was restless like, and I think he might, that’s all. And why shouldn’t he, if you marry Isaac?”

Her brother’s words made her face flame, and she closed her eyes against the thought that by her actions she might inadvertently send Adam to his death. She could not speak.

Then John rose and patted her awkwardly on the arm. “Never mind, Lena. I shouldn’t have said that. I thought, though, that maybe you . . . Well, never mind.”

He started to walk away and she called after him, staring down at her mother’s grave marker. “John . . . John, wait. Happy birthday. I forgot, but I guess
Mamm
reminded me somehow. We’ll have a cake.”

She turned, and they walked in sober silence toward the house.

Chapter 27

S
amuel had gone out to the apple trees and Lena was sewing when Ruth noticed that the bishop had wakened from a nap, and she went to test the strength of the bandages on his leg.

“How are ye now, sir?” she asked.

“I am much better in body and spirit, thanks to you. May I ask who you are?”

Ruth bowed her head before the wise eyes of the older man and longed to say that who she was did not matter anymore. To the people of this house she was “Ruth,” and to Faith she was sustenance and love.

“I’m Ruth,” she said simply.

Bishop Mast nodded. “And, Ruth, how came you to be here?”

His voice was layered with time, it seemed to Ruth, as if he had heard all and seen all that there was to be seen in men, yet still found enough reason to persist in life.

“I am a wet nurse for the babe . . . a stopgap for the loss of their mother.

Miss Lena believes God is for me, but given my past, I do not know.”

An aged and blue-veined hand came down on top of hers. “You have lost all, have you not? I have met many women like you in the mountains and countryside. War is unforgiving; it stretches wide arms to encompass the land and sweeps all away, like crumbs from a tabletop.”

“My crumbs were my husband, my home.” Ruth’s eyes filled with tears, which she swiped at hastily with the back of her free hand.

“I am truly sorry for your loss, and yet I do not think that is what troubles you most, Ruth.”

He waited, and she was amazed at his depth of perception.

“’Tis true,” she whispered finally. “I fear I sin here.”

“How? How can you when the Lord is for you?” The man’s eyes were kind and steady.

“I—I think I grow to love the family too much.” She bit her lip.

“The family?” he asked gently. “Or the head of the family?”

She met his eyes, the truth bare in her own, when the front door opened and Samuel came in. Ruth nodded her thanks to the bishop and made haste to rise, swiping once more at her face before turning to greet Samuel.

“You are finished with the trees already?” she asked, carefully steadying her voice.

“I felt a break might be good. I also wanted to check on the bishop.”

He glanced toward the pallet bed.

“The bishop is much more himself, thanks to your Ruth here,” the older man called out cheerfully.

Ruth flushed at the use of the word
your
. She busied herself pouring cider and heard the bishop beg Samuel to come over and sit awhile.

“So, Samuel, have you heard about General Washington and his interest in apple trees?”

“I know he is rumored to be interested in the New York apple nursery . . . trying to import new varieties instead of the usual crab apple.”

“Oddly, it’s the one thing the British and the colonists seem to agree upon. I have heard that both armies have posted an amicable guard around the New York orchard to protect it from any warfare.”

Ruth could not help but laugh. “’Tis strange that it was the taste of an apple that caused so much trouble in the Bible, and now the fruit works to bring men together.”

Both men chuckled, and the bishop waved a hand at her.

“Come and sit, Ruth,” he insisted when she had brought them refreshment. “Come and talk a bit, for I would enjoy the company.”

Ruth perched cautiously on the edge of a rocker next to Samuel and hoped the old man would not reveal any of their conversation. She needn’t have worried. The men discussed everything from the weather to the crops to news from other Amish farms. She was invited to give her opinion more than once and relaxed back into her chair.

Then Bishop Mast cleared his throat and caught Samuel’s eye. “So are there marriages for me to perform hereabouts as part of my duties?”

Samuel nodded, clearly pleased. “
Ya
. Isaac Wyse has asked for Lena’s hand. I have given my permission.”

“Hmm. I see. But was it not Adam Wyse the girl fancied?”

Ruth wanted to speak, but held her tongue. Lena must make her own choices in life.

“
Ya
,” Samuel answered soberly. “But that has passed.”

“I see . . . Well, then, name me the other marriage to be performed.”

The bishop took a sip of cider as Samuel looked at him confusedly, then glanced at Ruth.

“I’ve not heard of another couple. Did you hear something from another farm?”

The bishop pursed his lips, and Ruth felt a jitter of nerves when he did not reply readily. Finally he put his cup down and looked at both of them. “It seems you miss what is right beneath your nose . . . uh . . . heart, Samuel Yoder.”

Ruth sneaked a glance at Samuel and saw that he had flushed red over the top of his beard.

“Sir?”

“Must I spell it out, man?” Bishop Mast demanded. “There is a woman of good report, a kind, homemaking, generous woman, comely still, who works from dawn to dusk, tends to the
kinner
, builds a good home . . .”

Samuel’s voice came solemn and trebled with an excitement that Ruth could feel down her spine. “I know this woman,” he admitted.

“But—”

“I’m not Amish,” Ruth finished for him, then clapped a hand over her mouth at her outburst.

Both men laughed in good nature, and she joined in.

Then the bishop spoke seriously. “Ruth, you live as mother and mistress of this fine home. Should you choose to accept what I believe will be a proposal from Samuel Yoder, would you learn the tenets of the Amish faith and seek to join the church?”

“Oh, I would,” Ruth exclaimed, feeling a strange sense of belonging. Then she glanced at Samuel and spoke with hesitancy. “But, sir, I would not have Samuel Yoder driven into a marriage for which he has no desire. I am glad to continue on . . . as we are.”

Samuel turned to her and caught her hand in his. “Upon my soul, dear Ruth . . . I have wanted a union between us and have thought much of it of late. If . . . if you would have me?”

He bent and kissed her lightly, and the bishop laughed. “I think we have cause for celebration. And perhaps a mite of hard cider?”

Ruth lifted her head to see that the older man was teasing, but his attitude made her feel welcome, and she found that she had renewed vigor for living as Samuel kissed her again.

Lena watched John’s face when the surprise engagement of Ruth to her father was announced. Lena was pleased herself, having grown to cherish Ruth, but John fled outside as soon as he’d gained permission to do so. She wanted to follow him, but she wasn’t sure what good it would do. Ruth was not trying to replace his mother, but John was still child enough, despite his birthday, to resent the situation. She decided not to speak, but to pray for him, when Abby tugged on her hand.

“Lena . . . will you come outside with me?”

There were a thousand and one things that she could be doing, like preparing her clothing and Ruth’s for the upcoming weddings—though even as the word
weddings
crossed her consciousness, she longed to shudder. The bishop would not be well enough to preach on the morrow, but had decided to stay until the following Sunday to preach to as many Amish who would come, and to perform the marriage ceremonies. And besides the fact that her wedding was a week away, she had to accompany her father and the bishop to the Wyses’ home that afternoon.

A thousand and one things, but the pleading, freckled face of her baby
schwester
was too sweet to deny. After all, how long would it be that she would have time to dally and play? So she gave in with a smile.

They walked hand in hand past the now-blooming kitchen
gorda
, and Abby danced about like a butterfly on a string as she swung Lena’s arms. The sun fell on their straw hats, and Lena had to laugh when Abby’s chin strings kept coming untied. As she bent to tie them for the third time, she caught her little sister’s face between her palms and kissed her.

“I pray that you will always be as happy as you are right now,” Lena whispered.

Abby giggled. “Are you happy, Lena?”

Lena straightened her back and wondered if it was given to her to be happy. Certainly she had joy at her father and Ruth’s union, and John’s birthday, and Abby’s freckles, but ever since Adam had told her of his decision to leave, she had not been as happy as she might be. And now she was deciding, choosing, to make a sacrifice that she could only hope would bring abundant life here on earth and eternal joy later.

She had to blink in the sunshine because her reasoning somehow seemed faulty to her own mind. She told herself sternly that perhaps she had best not play but act like the grown woman she was. Yet still she lingered with Abby, troubled but helped by the child’s carefree movements and her joy in simply being alive.

Chapter 28