The Harvest of Grace (38 page)

Tears welled again, and she turned away to grab the spray bottle, paper towels, and stool. How many times would she believe in a man only to be made a fool of? She sat beside the nearest cow, cleaned her udder, and prepped her for milking.

Trevor paused near her. “I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, please don’t run from it. Face it, Sylvia. I give you my word it’s the only way. New cities can be built on top of old ruins. Did you know that?”

Maybe she shouldn’t bare her soul, but she had to talk to somebody, and Trevor didn’t seem like the kind who would judge her unfairly. “But I knew right from wrong. I walked right into the middle of lust and stayed there.”

“God forgave Paul, who called himself the chief sinner. From what I understand, he tortured, imprisoned, and killed people in God’s name. What makes you think you’re better than he was?”

“Better? I don’t think that.”

“Sure you do. God forgave the worst sinner. The Bible says so. Only thing I can guess is that either you think you’re too good to take the same grace Paul took, or you think God is too weak to supply it.”

Tears spilled onto her cheeks. She didn’t want to agree with him, but his bluntness held wisdom. Needing fresh air, she walked outside and looked into the dark sky. Was it really possible to make things right between God and her?

“God, please … I can’t undo what I’ve done. If I could relive it, I’d never let myself or anyone else get me in that same situation, but I did let it happen, and I’m sorry. What can I do now? Please, I need Your guidance and strength.”

As her muted whispers pierced the quiet around her, energy and hope trickled into her. And she knew what had to be done. She had to go see her sister.

She returned to the barn. “Trevor, I need a ride to Beckie’s. I don’t know how long I’ll stay or if my Daed will let me come back. But I have to talk to Michael and then go.”

Thirty-
S
ix

Sylvia’s stomach clenched and her fingertips throbbed with an odd numbness as Trevor drove down the narrow road toward her home. The trip to the Blank farm had taken Beckie more than two hours by horse and carriage, but it had taken Trevor less than thirty minutes to drive here.

It was well past lunchtime. Since she didn’t know what she’d face when she arrived home, she had spent the morning talking to Michael and Dora, doing laundry, and packing all her clothes.

She hadn’t seen Aaron. He was probably still working the fence line, which was just as well since she didn’t know what to say to him.

One battle was all she could handle today.

Trevor passed her brick homestead. The red milking barn still needed a new coat of paint. The herd stood grazing in the lush fields. A little farther down the road, he pulled into the driveway in front of the eighteenth-century gray stone house where Beckie and Elam lived.

In spite of looking like her home, it didn’t feel like it. It had lost its homeyness the day she learned that Elam intended to marry Beckie. With a little time, she could have adjusted to that disappointment easily enough if not for two things—Elam’s backstabbing sneakiness at dumping her for someone so close to her, and her inability to get away from him. The real shame was that the mess had given a mediocre man too much power over her emotions.

Trevor put the vehicle in Park. “I think the best way for you to reach me when … if you’re ready to come home is to call Ephraim’s cabinetry shop. Either I’ll get the message from him, or he’ll bring it to the farm.” He passed her a piece of paper with Ephraim’s name and phone number scrawled on it. “How far to the nearest phone?”

“Unless the bishop has approved one for someone closer, it’s two to three miles away.” She opened the car door, her head swimming. “I can get to it easily enough when I’m ready. Thanks for the ride.”

“Glad to do it.”

The tires crunched against the gravel driveway as Trevor left.

Movement near the pasture, some two hundred feet away, caught her eye.

Elam
.

As he walked toward her, her legs felt more like flimsy rubber bands than muscle, sinew, and bone. But the reaction came from dread of facing her family with her sin exposed, not from any feelings for Elam. Nothing about him interested her anymore.

Still, memories of their best courting days ran through her mind. Whatever she’d found so special about him eluded her now. He’d been charming, to be sure, and everyone flocked to him as if his boyish good looks and handsome smile inflated his value. Aaron was far more attractive to her, and he thought nothing of his looks. But Elam relied on his appearance and hid his disloyalty behind it. He’d been slowly maturing for years, so maybe he’d changed, but the person she knew was self-absorbed, conceited, and manipulative. She’d seen those flaws when they were courting and had foolishly been willing to overlook them.

Elam stopped within five feet of her, looking drained and subdued. There wasn’t a hint of the bold-faced, overconfident man who had married her sister.

She cleared her throat. “I didn’t intend to tell her.”

“I’m glad it’s out.”

His words gave her some much-needed hope.

He studied his home, sadness radiating from deep within. “I wanted to tell her so many times, but I couldn’t make myself. It seemed unreasonably selfish—even for me—to lighten my load by dumping it on her.”

She needed to make sure every speck of unfinished business and all secrets between them were attended to. “You were right when you said I was never going to marry you. It never would’ve happened.”

“Why?”

“You don’t want to hear it.”

“I need to know.”

Elam waited, and thoughts of Aaron tugged at her. “You had no sense of loyalty. No ability to care about what I needed over what you wanted.”

Within a week of knowing her, Aaron had more respect for her position on
his
farm than Elam ever had of Sylvia’s place on a farm she partly owned. Aaron understood her better than she had herself—her avoidance of church and her drive to overwork. He put effort into planning breaks for her. The man in front of her had no understanding of being someone’s equal partner, and she wondered if he had the capacity to really love someone. Aaron did. She’d seen it in the way he treated his parents and Frani.

And her.

A new ache for her sister banged around inside her.

Sylvia turned to face the house Elam and Beckie called home. “My regret is deep, and I need to tell Beckie that. But I don’t know if she’ll hear me.”

“Maybe she will. Even if not, I think you’re right to try. I knew when she got home yesterday that she’d found out. She took to bed immediately, made me swear I wouldn’t tell her parents or sisters what was going on, and kicked me out of the bedroom until further notice.”

It surprised her that Beckie hadn’t told their parents or sisters. Beckie held the power to make them all hate her while gaining sympathy for herself for years to come. Wasn’t she going to use it?

Sylvia started up the brick walkway.

“Sylvia.”

She turned back to Elam.

“I’m sorry for the way I broke up with you, for the way I took over your responsibilities of running the farm, for taking advantage of your loneliness when you were just trying to do the right thing by Beckie and your family.”

Her heaviness lifted a bit. But she’d thought it had been her idea to give up her farm duties piece by piece to avoid coming into contact with him. It sounded as if he’d planned that.

Aaron would never have done that to anyone, least of all her. Even when he had no feelings for her, he’d made sure she understood his plan. No manipulation. But plenty of stubborn concern—that she worked too hard, kept herself from making friends, and had turned away from God. And he worried where she’d land when he sold the farm.

Her anger had blinded her. If he’d thought contacting Beckie would have been truly bad for her, he wouldn’t have done it.

She tried to free her thoughts of Aaron. “I’ve asked forgiveness from God, and I’ll give it to you.” She hoped God liked her a lot more than she liked Elam. “I’m going to see Beckie.”

As Sylvia walked toward Beckie’s home, Lilly rounded the side of the house with a bowl in her hands.

“Sylvia!” Her face lit up. She hurried to the steps and set down the bowl before running to Sylvia and engulfing her in a hug. “Oh, you’re home.” She squeezed her tight. “For good?”

Sylvia returned the warm embrace. Concern that her father would refuse to let her leave again—and that he’d insist on gaining control of her once he learned of her sin—lifted. She wasn’t staying. “No, just for a few days.”

Lilly took a step back. “Don’t you dare leave again without giving me your address. If I have it, I might be able to talk him into letting all us girls write. If not, I’ll wait until I’m in my rumschpringe. He won’t even try to stop me then.” She glanced back at the house. “Beckie came home yesterday so sick she went straight to bed. We figured the heat was too much on her, driving that distance and being pregnant. I was bringing her some of Mamm’s famous chicken noodle soup.”

“I’ll take it to her. Where are her little ones?”

“We’re keeping them at our house until she feels better.”

“Tell Mamm and Daed I’ll be up to see them later, but I need to see Beckie first.”

Lilly’s eyes shone bright. “I’ll make your favorite dinner. Will you be ready to eat in a few hours?”

She doubted it, but she squeezed Lilly close. “Absolutely. Denki, Lilly.”

Sylvia took the bowl of soup into the house with her, grabbed a spoon from a drawer, and went to Beckie’s bedroom door. She tapped and heard movement, but Beckie didn’t respond. Sylvia eased the door open. Beckie lay curled in a ball, staring at the wall.

“Beckie, honey?” Her sister stirred a bit. “Are you hungry? Mamm made you some soup.”

Beckie slowly worked her way to a sitting position. She still wore the clothes from yesterday as well as her prayer Kapp. But it was a good sign that she hadn’t screamed at Sylvia or thrown anything—yet.

“What are
you
doing here?”

Sylvia set the bowl on the table. “I came to beg forgiveness.”

Beckie scowled. “Get out.”

“I’m not leaving. If you need to drag me in front of the whole family and humiliate me so your anger will subside, then do so. But I won’t leave until I’ve eased your pain … and forgiveness would be really nice too.”

Beckie stared at her. “I have no words to begin to tell you what you’ve done to me.”

Sylvia knelt beside the bed. “I can’t begin to explain the depth of my sorrow.”

Beckie looked the other way, clenched her fists, and crossed her arms tightly. The minutes ticked by, and Sylvia remained on her knees.

“Im Gott sei Lieb,” Sylvia whispered.
In God’s love
. It was their phrase, the one they used to say in bed after talking about everything—their joys and hopes and fears and anger.

Beckie jumped as if Sylvia had startled her. Tears welled in Beckie’s eyes, but she said nothing.

Every night, no matter what was happening around them, they had put it all in His hands and had fallen asleep believing every good thing came from His hand and every bad thing that happened or that they did could be engulfed by His love. They weren’t little girls anymore, and their ability to sin seemed to have grown along with their bodies, but had God’s love gotten any smaller?

Beckie patted the side of the bed. “Get off your knees, Sister.”

Sylvia moved to the edge of the mattress. Beckie struggled to speak. Her hair was a mess, which was unlike her. Sylvia went into the bathroom, retrieved a hairbrush, and sat on the edge of the bed next to her. Her sister shifted, allowing Sylvia room to get behind her. Sylvia removed the straight pins that held the Kapp in place, then took out the various hairpins, slowly unwinding her golden locks.

Sylvia brushed her sister’s hair. “It’d be nice if we could untangle life the way we can untangle the knots in our hair.”

Tears fell from Beckie’s eyes. “I started something with Elam because I wanted to steal him from you.”

Sylvia’s heart jerked wildly, but she continued to brush her sister’s long locks.

Beckie wiped her nose on the wadded mess of tissue in her hands. “My plan worked out well, don’t you think?”

Sylvia kissed the back of her sister’s head. “He loves you, Beckie.”

Silence hung between them while Sylvia pinned her sister’s hair into a bun. Then Sylvia picked up the bowl and spooned up some broth.

After Beckie took a bite, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I don’t hate you like I said. I know I carry some of the blame too.”

Her sister’s graciousness caught Sylvia off guard, but it explained why Beckie hadn’t told their parents and sisters.

She swallowed another spoonful of soup. “I need you. Now more than ever.”

“I can’t stay. We both know that. Besides, you’re a grown woman well capable of taking care of yourself and your family.” Sylvia continued to spoon-feed her sister.

“It’s true what Daed said, isn’t it? I relied too heavily on you.”

Needing a moment to adjust her thinking, Sylvia set the bowl to the side. “Ya, and I let you.”