The Forgiven Read online

  “Matt says he had a tree house when he was a little older than us,” Katie added.

  Matt saw the swift shadow that passed across Rebecca’s eyes, probably because she was remembering Paul’s plans. Then she was smiling again.

  “This is a fine job. You can sit up here and see everything that’s going on. You could even have lunch up here sometime, if you wanted.”

  “Could we do it now, Mammi?” Katie said quickly. “Not lunch, I mean, but a snack? We’re hungry from working.”

  “I guess you are due for a snack. There are some snickerdoodles in the cookie jar. I’ll get them—”

  “No, no, me!” Joshua exclaimed. “Let me.” He climbed over his mother like a little monkey.

  “Me, too,” Katie said. She swung down to the first rung of the ladder. “We’ll be careful. We’ll put the lid back on and wrap the cookies up in a paper towel.” She jumped the last rung, Joshua right behind her, and set off running across the yard.

  “There’s no use hoping they’ll remember to wash their hands before they get the cookies,” Rebecca said. “I hope you don’t mind a little dirt.”

  “Keeps you healthy, so my mamm used to say.”

  They were sitting very close of necessity on the small platform, and Matt was intensely aware of Rebecca—the gentle curve of her mouth, the soft flush in her cheeks, the way her gaze followed her children’s sturdy little figures until they disappeared into the house.

  Her eyes swept up to his, and his throat went dry.

  “You are wonderful kind to build this with Joshua and Katie,” she said.

  “It’s nothing.” He tried for a light touch but didn’t think he succeeded. “I found them trying to manhandle a board into the tree on their own. I figured helping them would be the safest course.”

  Her face clouded as if he’d scolded her. “Ach, I should have been watching them closer. They could have gotten hurt doing something like that and—”

  “Rebecca, don’t start blaming yourself,” he interrupted. “That wasn’t what I meant. They’re normal kids. Trying things, failing, falling, getting hurt, getting up again . . . That’s all part of being young.” His fingers closed on her wrist, and he could feel her pulse beating against his skin.

  “I know. I try not to fuss. It’s just . . .” She smiled suddenly. “I’m a mother. That’s what we do.”

  That smile seemed to go right to his heart. They were so close, and her smiling lips were only inches from his. He couldn’t help it. He closed the distance and found her lips with his.

  For an instant Rebecca was still. Then she leaned into the kiss, and her breath came out with a little sigh. He touched her face, longing welling inside him. He wanted . . .

  The back door slammed, announcing that the children were coming. Rebecca drew away, the movement slow. A blush colored her cheeks but she was smiling, her eyes bemused.

  “The kinder,” she said, as if in explanation. “I . . . I think I’ll get down and let you have your snack with them.”

  He nodded. Rebecca wasn’t running away, or being offended, or reacting in any of the ways he might have expected to his kiss. She was just putting a little distance between them.

  He didn’t speak, because he didn’t know what to say. But as he helped her climb down from the tree, he knew that soon he would have to speak. He’d have to tell her the whole truth about himself, no matter how much it hurt.

  • • •

  Rebecca slid the beef noodle casserole into the oven and straightened, only to catch a reflection of her face in the tray on the counter. Her lips were curved in a smile she hadn’t seen in a long time.

  She moved the tray, but it didn’t help. She could still feel the smile. And she knew what had put it there. Matt had kissed her.

  She should be embarrassed, shouldn’t she? Or upset? But was it wrong for a man—a good man—to show an interest in her? It had been so long.

  Rebecca lifted an earthenware mixing bowl down from the shelf. She’d make a loaf of corn bread to go with the casserole. Josh and Katie loved corn bread.

  The thought of her children reminded her that she must be careful. She wasn’t an eighteen-year-old girl any longer, and she had to put her children first in any relationship.

  Not that she had a reason to suppose Matt meant anything serious by his attentions. He had probably kissed dozens of girls in his time.

  Kissing her had been an impulse, nothing more. She should treat it lightly.

  And if it hadn’t been just an impulse? She discovered, to her surprise, that she’d like to believe it. Even so, it was far too soon to think of anything serious.

  Rebecca couldn’t seem to keep from feeling optimistic, though. The farm-stay was up and running, she had money coming in to provide for her children, Daad was improving every day, and Matt had kissed her.

  A buggy passed the kitchen window. Rebecca put the lid back on the cornmeal box and wiped her hands before she hurried outside.

  To her surprise, it was Mary Ann King, who stopped at the sight of her.

  “Mary Ann. How nice to see you. Have you been over at Mamm and Daad’s?”

  Mary Ann nodded, not smiling. “My mamm sent supper over for them.”

  “That was wonderful kind of her. And of you, to bring it.” Maybe Mary Ann was beginning to gain that maturity Mamm had mentioned. “Do you have time to come in and visit?”

  “I can’t stay.” Mary Ann looked like someone on a mission she couldn’t figure out how to complete. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

  “Of course.” Rebecca looked up at her. What could Mary Ann possibly want with her?

  “Simon wouldn’t dream of complaining, but I thought you’d want to know how he’s feeling. I’m sure I would in your position.” Mary Ann’s gaze avoided hers, fixed firmly on her horse’s ears.

  “I see.” But she didn’t. If there was a problem with her brother, she wasn’t aware of it. “Why wouldn’t Simon come to me about whatever it is?”

  “He wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Mary Ann said quickly. “And he wants to do his duty.”

  There was a righteous tone to Mary Ann’s voice that Rebecca didn’t care for. She tried to be fair, but did Mary Ann actually imagine she was telling Rebecca anything she didn’t already know about her own brother?

  “You must see you’re asking too much, Rebecca.” Mary Ann leaned toward her suddenly, flushing a little. “Simon is taking care of his daad’s farm and yours, and now you’ve got him involved in the farm-stay business of yours. And you’re not even paying him! How can you treat your own brother that way?”

  Rebecca felt as if she’d been struck. She took a step back, shaking her head. She didn’t want to believe what she was hearing.

  Guilt rushed in. True, Simon was doing all those things. No doubt it didn’t give him time for anything else.

  It wasn’t right. Simon was only twenty. He ought to be free to be courting, to be enjoying himself, not be tied to responsibilities that weren’t rightfully his.

  “I just thought you’d want to know,” Mary Ann repeated. She picked up the lines and clucked to the mare, leaving Rebecca shaken and torn.

  • • •

  It was only when the children were tucked up in bed that Rebecca allowed herself time to think again about the distressing visit from Mary Ann. By then, she’d calmed down and could look at it more objectively.

  The girl was young and she was interested primarily in herself, but Rebecca couldn’t blame her. Naturally Mary Ann wanted her come-calling friend to have time for her.

  More important, what had Simon said to set Mary Ann off? Rebecca stood for a moment in the kitchen, staring absently at the back window and the view beyond. Was it really only a few hours ago that she’d been celebrating the fact that her business was going well?

  That happiness now seemed to b
e even more selfish than Mary Ann’s attitude. She had taken her brother’s help for granted when, without him, how could she proceed? Even if Simon felt he could cope with helping her now, what would happen if and when they got busier? Mary Ann was right about one thing—Simon couldn’t run two farms and deal with her visitors as well.

  She had to talk this over with Simon. Of course he wanted to help her. He was her brother. As the two oldest, they’d always been close. But she couldn’t go on taking advantage of him.

  Maybe, if they could discuss it openly, they could figure out some solution. But what? It seemed each time she’d solved one problem, another cropped up.

  Simon might be still at the barn. She stepped out into the mild evening, pausing on the porch. The sun had slipped behind the ridge, painting the western sky in shades of pink and purple, and twilight had begun to draw in. The barn doors were closed, and if Simon were there working, he’d have left them open for the light. Their conversation would have to wait for tomorrow.

  “Rebecca.”

  She spun, startled, to see Matt approaching from the workshop.

  “Matt.” A little flutter in her chest made it hard to sound normal. “I thought you left already.”

  “I had some work I wanted to finish first.”

  His face was solemn, and her heart thudded. He looked so serious—she hoped he wasn’t going to say he was sorry he’d kissed her, especially since she feared she’d made it very plain that she’d enjoyed being kissed.

  “Are the kinder in bed?” He paused, one foot on the bottom step.

  “They’re in, although it gets harder to settle them now that it’s light longer.”

  “We need to talk.” The words were heavy, as if they were weighted with something. Regret, maybe?

  She could hardly say she didn’t want to listen. “Komm.” She gestured to the porch. “We can sit out here, where I’ll hear the kinder if they call.”

  She sat down on the porch swing, the motion producing its familiar creak. It was a pleasant place to relax in the summer when the day’s work was done. “Please.” She gestured to the space beside her.

  Matt didn’t seem to notice. He leaned against the porch railing, hands gripping it, as if he was bracing himself. He frowned, maybe trying to figure out where to start.

  She might as well save him the trouble. “If you are worried about kissing me—”

  “No, Rebecca.” His expression didn’t lighten. “I’m worried about caring for you.”

  The serious tone touched her heart. He meant it. She seemed to tremble on the edge of a precipice. Matt meant it, and she cared for him, as well.

  It was one thing to admit it to herself, but quite another to say it out loud. She was afraid—afraid of what that might mean.

  Matt didn’t seem to expect a response. His frown deepened, and his knuckles must be white considering how hard he was gripping the railing.

  “I don’t go around telling people about my past. But you have a right to know the truth about me.”

  “I know that you’re kind, and caring, and responsible,” she said quickly. “I don’t need to know anything else.”

  Matt’s gaze rested on her face, and she couldn’t quite interpret what it said. “No.” He shook his head. “I’ve made so many mistakes in my life. They were all caused by the same thing—a temper I can’t control. A temper that can lead to violence.”

  Everything in her denied it. “You’re beating yourself up, but there’s no need.”

  “Listen to me, Rebecca.” He leaned toward her, his face a mask to hide his feelings. “That’s why Isaiah nearly drowned, because I couldn’t control my urge to hit back.”

  “Matt, you were a kid. You’ve grown out of it. You can’t go on blaming yourself for something that happened when you were just a teenager.”

  “You’re quick to defend me.” His grim expression lightened for an instant. “But I’m not a kid now, and look what happened with Simon.”

  “It seems to me Simon is the one who should feel guilty about it.”

  Matt couldn’t seem to accept any excuse. “You don’t understand. I was so furious that I nearly struck him with my fist.”

  “But you didn’t.” She longed to touch him, to comfort him, but she was afraid to move lest he stop talking.

  “I didn’t because you were there.” A ghost of a smile appeared and was gone. “I’ve tried again and again to live in peace. I’ve failed.”

  “You’ve done nothing wrong. Just because you get angry sometimes—well, none of us is perfect. Don’t you think all of us fail to live up to the church’s teaching?”

  “Not like me.” He sucked in a breath. “I thought I’d be happy when I jumped the fence. I thought I’d fit in to the outside world. But I didn’t. I ended up in jail.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, unable to accept the words, thinking he must be joking. But he was serious.

  “What happened? Why?” An Amish person might go to jail for failing to obey a law that he felt went counter to God’s will. She could understand—

  “I got into a fight in a bar. A man was injured, so badly he had to go to the hospital.” He raised his hands in front of him, looking at them as if they belonged to someone else. “I struck someone. I injured him. I was arrested and sentenced to six months in jail.”

  Rebecca’s throat was dry, and her stomach twisted. “Matt, I . . . I’m sorry.” For him, for the other man, for the whole situation.

  His jaw clenched. “When I got out, I made up my mind to come back to the church. To start over. I thought I could live in peace.”

  “You can,” she said, forcing the words out through a tight throat.

  He shook his head. “It’s not something I could leave behind in the Englisch world. It’s something inside me.” He looked down at his hands again, as if he saw something she didn’t. “I wish I could be the man you think I am, but I’m afraid I can’t. So the safest thing is not to let anyone rely on me.” His face twisted. “Especially not you and the children.”

  “Matt, that doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t have to be that way.” She reached out to him, but he didn’t seem to see her.

  He shoved himself away from the railing, took the porch steps in a long stride, and headed toward his buggy at something just short of a run.

  Her heart clenched painfully. She couldn’t think of anything else to say, any way to reach him. Matt had locked himself behind the barrier of his guilt, and he wouldn’t come out, even for her.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Lancaster County, September 1942

  Anna shoved a basket of tomatoes into the wagon and stood leaning against it for a moment, hand on her aching back. The wagon wasn’t quite full, but this was the last picking of the summer. It was the first week of September already.

  She nodded to her youngest brother. Peter looked smaller than ever perched on the wagon seat. He slapped the heavy lines on the back of the workhorse, and the wagon moved slowly down the field.

  Eli, who seemed to have grown a foot since Seth had left, came to her, automatically measuring himself against her. He seemed to be living for the day when he’d be taller than she was.

  Because he felt he had to take Seth’s place? It might well be. He wasn’t the only boy who had to do a man’s work before his time, now that so many of the county’s young men had gone off to the war.

  Anna tapped her brother’s frayed straw hat. “Komm. Let’s get back to the barn. Daadi will be needing us.”

  He nodded, his young face tightening. “He works too hard. I wish . . .”

  “Ja. I know.” She wished it, too. If there had never been a war, if Seth hadn’t thought he had to fight . . .

  A wave of anger swept through her, startling in its power. Had Seth thought about them when he left? Had he known Mammi would be crying every night, Daadi aging ten ye
ars in a day, Anna and the kinder taking on a man’s work to keep the farm going without him?

  The government kept announcing that farmers should produce more food because of the war. But how could they when their young men were gone, either into the military, like Seth, or to the Civilian Public Service camps, like Jacob?

  Jacob’s family was struggling, too. They were missing him and challenged to bring in a decent crop with only kinder and old people to help. Jacob would be missing it. He’d always said he was never so happy as when he had his hands in the earth.

  She remembered teasing him. Not even when you’re taking me home from singing? she’d asked. Not even when you kiss me good night?

  He’d responded with a grin and a light kiss on her lips, and she’d thought she’d always be as happy as she was right in that moment.

  “Everyone is in the same situation,” she told her brother, not sure how that was supposed to make Eli feel better.

  “Not everyone,” he said, his mouth twisting a little. “Not the Yoders. Zeke Yoder got exempted from going to the camps. How did he do it?”

  Everyone, even the Amish, had a new vocabulary these days, it seemed. She and Eli left the field for the easier walking of the yard and headed toward the barn. Exempted—she wouldn’t have expected her little brother to know the word in an ordinary world.

  “You mustn’t blame the Yoders for Zeke not having to go,” she said. “That would be as bad as our Englisch neighbors blaming us for speaking German.”

  “Well, I still say it’s funny. Why should Zeke get a farming exemption and not Jacob?”

  She couldn’t deny the fact that she’d asked that question herself sometimes, especially when she woke in the night and thought of Jacob so far away.

  “I don’t know.” That was the only honest answer she could give. “It seems like the folks on the draft board don’t know exactly what to do with us. We just have to be thankful that none of our boys have been forced to bear arms.”

  “I don’t want to hear any more war talk.”

  They’d gotten close enough for Daadi to hear, and his voice was sharp.