The Forgiven Read online

  “Sorry, Daadi.” Anna knew how he felt about it. She should have been more careful.

  Daadi’s gaze rested on her face, softening. “We’ve done enough for now. We’ll finish up after supper. Go, all of you, and have a break.”

  The two boys didn’t need an excuse. They darted off across the yard as if they’d been fired from a slingshot, making Anna smile.

  “If you’re sure you don’t need me now, Daadi, I’ll go and see if there is any mail.”

  His worn face creased in an answering smile. “You mean you will see if there’s a letter from Jacob, ain’t so? Go ahead and check. I hope you’ll find one.” He waved his hand toward the road.

  Anna’s tiredness slipped away as she hurried down the lane toward the mailbox out by the road. Now that Jacob was settled at the camp in Maryland, he wrote more regularly, although Jacob never had been much of a letter writer.

  At first he and the other men, mostly Amish and Mennonites with a few Quakers and Englisch, had been kept busy renovating the dilapidated buildings that were their barracks. The only thing that had held them back initially was the lack of supplies, but the sponsoring churches had quickly brought in what they needed.

  Now, according to Jacob’s last letter, they had been put to work planting trees. He’d said he heard that some men would be picked to help with the harvest on area farms, and he hoped to be chosen.

  Planting trees is okay, but harvesting crops would be better. It seems like farm work would be a better use of a bunch of farm boys!

  Anna smiled, thinking of his words. At least he was well and safe. The peace churches had to provide everything that was needed for the camps, and folks were generous, knowing it was their own boys and their neighbors’ sons who were far from home and needing them.

  She’d nearly reached the gravel road, and she quickened her steps, reaching the metal mailbox at what was almost a run. Yanking open the door, she thrust her hand in and pulled out the contents: a newspaper for Daad, a round robin letter from Mammi’s cousins, and finally a letter from Jacob. She held the envelope in both hands, gloating over it.

  Waiting to read it was impossible. She ripped the envelope open and pulled out two sheets of paper covered with Jacob’s sprawling hand. If he—

  The sound of an engine startled her. She’d been so preoccupied with her letter that she hadn’t heard the pickup coming, and her breath caught in alarm. The truck bucketed down the narrow road, too fast, surely, weaving from one side to the other and then heading straight for her.

  Anna stumbled backward, feet slipping on the gravel, fear sending her heart thudding. Tripping into the ditch, water in her shoes, the truck screaming down on her . . .

  Brakes shrieked. Laughter—someone was laughing. Two boys hung out of the bed of the pickup. Before she could speak something struck her once, then again and again.

  Tomatoes. They were pelting her with tomatoes. She winced away, trying to shield her face and hair with her hands. Almost before she knew what had happened, the truck lurched off down the road, weaving from side to side.

  Anna looked down. Her skirt and apron were splattered with red that looked like blood, her shoes and socks soaked and muddy. Her stomach lurched, but she couldn’t be sick, not out here in the road for anyone passing by to see.

  “Are you all right?” A teenage Englisch girl scrambled off a bicycle and came running toward Anna. Anna hadn’t even noticed her in the wake of the truck. “Did they hurt you?”

  “No, no. I’m fine.” But she was shaking uncontrollably.

  The girl leaned over, grasping Anna’s hand. “Come on. I’ll help you. Just lean on me.”

  She pulled, and Anna managed to control her shaking legs enough to climb up out of the ditch. Once there, she couldn’t seem to move. Shivering, she looked at the girl.

  “Denke. Thank you.” She shook her head. “I can’t seem to think straight. It’s kind of you to help me.”

  “I saw what they did. You should tell the police.” The girl brushed ineffectively at the mess on Anna’s skirt.

  “It’s all right.” She caught the girl’s hand, her voice rising. The Amish didn’t go to the police, not even if they were attacked. “Really. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

  The girl straightened, smiling at her, and Anna realized she was older than she had thought at first. The pants she was wearing made her look like a kid, but her face was mature. She had brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and curly bangs, and her lips were slicked with pink.

  “You’re Anna, Seth’s sister, aren’t you? I’m Patty Felder.” The young woman was looking at Anna as if that should mean something to her.

  “I’m sorry . . .” Anna began.

  “I guess Seth didn’t tell you about me.” She smiled, showing a dimple in each cheek. “I’m a friend of his.”

  Why she should be so surprised that one of Seth’s Englisch friends was a girl, Anna couldn’t say. “I’m wonderful glad to meet you, Patty.”

  Patty’s smile widened. “You’ll be even happier when you see what I have for you.” She pulled a folded paper from her pocket. “It’s a note from Seth.”

  “From Seth?” Anna’s heart swelled until it seemed about to burst through her chest. “For me?”

  “I guess for the family, but Seth said in his letter that I should only give it to you.” She shrugged. “He didn’t know how his dad would feel about his writing to the family. He says you’ll know what to do about it.”

  “Thank you.” The words didn’t seem big enough for what she was feeling. Anna grasped Patty’s hand. “I can’t tell you how much it means to hear from him.”

  Patty nodded. “I figured as much. He did tell me that his family wouldn’t understand his joining up, and he said they’d take it hard.”

  “It goes against our beliefs.” Anna longed to have this unexpected friend understand, strange as it was to stand beside the road and talk this way. “We don’t stop loving Seth and worrying about him, but it grieves my parents that he went against our faith by joining the fight, and Daadi doesn’t want us to write, even if we knew where he is.”

  “I guess that would make it worse,” Patty said. “Most folks act like they’re proud when their boys join up, but I bet they do a lot of worrying and crying, too.”

  “It’s hard on everyone,” Anna said. And how much harder was it going to get? She couldn’t even guess.

  “Sure is.” Patty’s lips twisted. “You know, at first all this business about the war was exciting. Scary, but exciting, too, with all the boys going into uniform and everything. But now . . . now it’s just sad.”

  “Yes.” Anna met her gaze and saw understanding there. “It is.”

  Patty drew away. “I’d better go. I don’t want your dad to spot me. Or my dad, either, for that matter, not that he’s likely to. So if I hear again, I’ll come see you. If I happen to come past the mailbox at this time of day, will you be the one picking up the mail?”

  Anna nodded. “If I possibly can, I’ll come to the mailbox every day. Although after this, my mother will probably make a fuss.” She gestured toward her stained apron.

  “I still say you ought to tell the police. I recognized that truck, and I’d back you up.”

  “No, I can’t.” She could see that Patty didn’t understand, and it seemed useless to try to explain the Amish aversion to dealing with the authorities. “People are already upset with us. I don’t want to make it any worse.”

  “It’s up to you.” Patty appeared doubtful. “Tell you what—if you want to write a letter to Seth, I’ll send it on to him.”

  “I would love to write to him,” she said quickly. “Would you really do that for me?”

  “I sure will. I’m supposed to work at the Red Cross all day tomorrow, but I’ll come by the next day, same time. I’ll wait out here for you. Okay?”

  “Thank y
ou.” For an instant Anna held back, but her feelings were too strong. She gave Patty a quick hug and felt the girl’s arms close warmly around her. When Anna drew back, there were tears in Patty’s eyes as well as hers.

  • • •

  Rebecca found parts of Anna’s diary slipping back into her thoughts at odd moments of the day. Anna had begun to seem so real to her—as if she were a dear friend Rebecca talked to daily.

  Rebecca unpinned sheets from the clothesline in the backyard, enjoying the fresh scent of air-dried linens as she folded them. One challenge about having guests was keeping up with the constant laundry. And she’d thought she had plenty of sheets.

  Rebecca’s thoughts turned to the segment of the diary she’d read last night before bed. Anna’s experience with Englischers had aroused emotions from disappointment to downright fear, and yet she’d managed to stay open to possibilities when she’d met her brother’s Englisch girlfriend. She clearly hadn’t suffered from being tongue-tied around strangers.

  Tomorrow’s guests would give Rebecca another opportunity to become the friendly, open hostess she longed to be, she reminded herself. This time she would try to be more like Barbie. Surely the whole experience would become easier with practice, wouldn’t it? She was counting on it.

  Glancing toward the stable was becoming a habit for her. It was too early for Matt to be there, of course. Still, she couldn’t help praying he would come. He might well want to avoid the whole place after what he’d said to her yesterday.

  Matt had told her things he apparently hadn’t spoken of to anyone else. In the aftermath, he might well be regretting it. What if he felt he couldn’t face her, now that she knew?

  A jagged edge of pain sliced through her. She should have handled the conversation better. She should have thought of something to say that would show him he was the good man she knew him to be, despite his past.

  But she hadn’t. She’d stood there silently, hardly able to say a thing. She hadn’t been smart enough or brave enough or strong enough to make a difference for him.

  When he came . . . If he came . . . she must try harder.

  A flicker of movement caught her eye and sent her heart jumping before she realized it was Simon. She had to talk to him, as well, and that task loomed nearly as difficult as finding the words for Matt.

  Well, it had to be done. She must make it clear to Simon that he didn’t have to dedicate his life to helping her. And she’d have to try to keep Mary Ann’s name out of it, if she didn’t want to figure as an interfering possible sister-in-law. She put the folded sheets in the basket and waved to her brother.

  Simon came toward her with his lanky stride, still moving as if he was getting used to having a man’s body instead of a boy’s. The reflection produced a twinge in her heart. Simon was trying so hard, but he was too young to have so much responsibility thrust on him, wasn’t he?

  And he certainly was too young to be thinking of marriage to Mary Ann or anyone else, in her opinion, although she didn’t suppose he’d agree.

  “I have some ideas for things I can do with the guests when they come tomorrow.” Simon spoke as soon as he was within earshot. “I’ve been thinking about it since last weekend, and Daad had some suggestions, too.”

  Rebecca was momentarily sidetracked by the mention of their father. “He’s not fretting about it, is he? Mammi doesn’t want him worrying.”

  Simon grinned, pushing his straw hat back farther on his head. “I don’t think she can stop him from being involved, ain’t so? He always thinks none of us kids can do anything without him standing right there watching.”

  “Ach, Simon, you know that’s not true. Daad has to trust you with so much just now, and you’re not letting him down.”

  He shrugged. “It’s just the same things I always do, and the young ones are more help than you’d expect. Johnny keeps telling me he doesn’t want to be a farmer, but he’s so gut with the animals I think he’d be a dummy to do anything else.”

  “Maybe he’ll see that for himself as he gets older.” Johnny had a bright, inquiring mind, and she’d often wondered what he’d settle to in the end. “But I wanted to talk to you about . . .” She gestured, palms up. “. . . well, everything. You’ve been doing so much between running the farms and taking over for Daad, and now you’re putting in so much time helping me, as well.” She thought of Mary Ann’s complaint. “And I’m not even paying you. It’s not fair.”

  Simon just stared at her for a moment, his blue eyes very wide. “What are you talking about?”

  He honestly didn’t seem to understand.

  “You, putting in so many hours helping me run the farm-stay. It was one thing for Paul to do it, because it was his business, but I shouldn’t be depending on you—”

  “Who else would you be depending on?” Anger edged his voice and made his face suddenly older, surprising her. “You’re my sister. Of course I am helping you. What would make you think I would have it any other way?”

  “I just don’t think I should take up so much of your time.” She went on doggedly. “You’re young. You should be enjoying your running-around time, not stuck here working every minute.”

  “Who put that idea in your head?” He stared at her as if waiting for an answer.

  She didn’t speak. She couldn’t.

  Simon’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Anyway, it’s crazy. We’re family. We help each other. Who would we be if we didn’t?” He slung an arm around her shoulder in a rare, awkward caress. “Ach, Becky, you’ve got a bee in your bonnet for nothing. Anyway, I like working with your visitors.”

  “You’re sure?” She searched his face and was comforted by what she saw there.

  “Positive. The Englischers are all different, and that makes it interesting. Like the old man last weekend—he said it made him feel like a boy on his father’s farm to help me. But his son-in-law couldn’t figure out one end of a pitchfork from the other and didn’t want to try.”

  “You really do enjoy it, don’t you?” She sighed, perplexed and relieved. “You and Barbie both. And I’m always worried to death I’m going to say the wrong thing, or they’re going to ask me something I can’t answer, or—”

  “Borrowing trouble.” He gave her shoulder a final squeeze and let go. “You just keep them well fed, and let Barbie and me do our parts.”

  “All right.”

  “And don’t worry,” he said.

  She smiled. “I promise.” It seemed to her that Mary Ann had come up with the wrong idea. If she didn’t know Simon better than that, it probably didn’t bode well for their future happiness.

  Don’t interfere, she reminded herself. Besides, it seemed to her that Simon might have guessed who’d put the idea in her head. He wouldn’t want to admit it, of course.

  She started to turn back toward the house, but Simon touched her arm. He was frowning a little, not meeting her eyes.

  “One thing I wanted you to know.” He said the words reluctantly.

  “Ja?” She stiffened, trying to be ready for anything.

  “I talked to Matt. I told him I was sorry for how I acted with him.”

  “I’m glad,” she said, relieved. It wasn’t easy for Simon to admit his fault, but he’d done the right thing. “Matt has been very kind to me and the kinder.” She would not let herself blush. “I’d hate to think you were on the outs with him.”

  “No. I mean, we’re not.” It was Simon’s turn to flush, the tips of his ears reddening as he seemed to force himself to go on. “But I still . . . Well, I can’t help worrying that you’re getting too close to him.”

  What could she say? I’m not? But that wouldn’t be true. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

  He gave her a look. “I’m your bruder, ain’t so? I’m supposed to worry.”

  “I think I’m a little old to need your advice on this subject.” She
tried to put a hint of warning in her voice.

  “I know.” The stubborn set to his jaw said he wasn’t finished. “I’m wonderful glad to see you getting interested in living. I want you to be happy. But Matt— I’m just afraid Matt will end up hurting you.” He looked as if he expected to have his head bitten off, but she was too touched by his obvious concern to be angry.

  She patted his hand. “I’ll be careful,” she said.

  But even as she said it, she knew it was too late for caution. Her feelings were already too strong to back away and pretend there was nothing between them. And given Matt’s determination that he couldn’t be involved with anyone, she had already been hurt.

  • • •

  What had possessed him to tell Rebecca the one thing he never talked about? Matt didn’t understand himself, and he hated the feeling. Even at his worst, when he’d been living Englisch, drinking too much, hanging out with the wrong people, he’d at least known what he was doing. Now . . . well, now he didn’t.

  He leaned against the workbench, frowning at what was meant to become a bookcase. This was still his chosen work—the kind of creation that brought a sense of satisfaction. And he could hardly back out of the agreement he’d made to rent the building from Rebecca. That would be a dirty trick when she was obviously counting on the money.

  But the safest course for both of them was probably to stay as far apart as possible under the circumstances. He shouldn’t have to worry about that where Rebecca was concerned. After what he’d told her yesterday, she wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him.

  He told himself that was the best solution. Unfortunately, his heart seemed to require a little more convincing.

  He heard voices outside, and a moment later two small tornadoes swept through the door.

  “You’re finally here.” Joshua rushed over to the workbench to see what he was doing. “You were late today.”

  “We were afraid you weren’t coming.” Katie skipped to his side. “Tomorrow our guests are going to be here, so we’ll be busy.”

  “We wanted to ask if we could have a couple of pieces of wood to make a little shelf in our tree house.” Josh looked up at him, blue eyes very serious. “But only pieces you don’t need.”