The Forgiven Read online

  “We ought to be able to finish that section of cabinets tomorrow.” Matt changed the subject firmly.

  “Most likely.”

  They rode along in silence then. If his uncle didn’t feel like talking, Matt was just as glad to stay silent. Conversations with his uncle seemed laid with traps for the unwary these days.

  Onkel Silas glanced ahead as the mare picked up her pace, sensing the lane to the barn. “Just drop me at the mailbox. That’ll give you time to run over to Rebecca’s and see if she’s made a decision. You’ll want to get your shop set up soon as you can.”

  “I can take you up to the house—” Matt began.

  His uncle cut him off with an annoyed look. “I’m not so old I can’t walk up my own lane. Get on over to Rebecca’s before she’s busy with supper.”

  Matt nodded, not venturing to argue. This slight testiness on his uncle’s part was new. Onkel Silas had always been the most even-tempered of men. Still, given all he had to deal with now, it wasn’t surprising.

  His uncle climbed down, and Matt headed on down the road, conquering a faint reluctance on the part of the mare, who obviously considered that she should be heading for the barn and her feed bucket. He glanced back once, to see Onkel Silas square his shoulders and start walking toward the house.

  Matt’s throat tightened. It had to be small compensation to Onkel Silas to have his nephew rather than his much-loved son working beside him. Isaiah should come home, the sooner the better.

  As for Sadie’s implication that Isaiah had been emulating Matt when he’d jumped the fence—well, that had to be a figment of her imagination. Matt hadn’t been around, and Isaiah no doubt had plenty of examples of fence-jumping closer to home. Every rumspringa group seemed to have one or two kids who decided to take a bite of the apple. Most of them came home eventually, ready to take up their proper roles.

  Still, Isaiah was needed here now, not later, with his daad aging, a business to run, and his mamm in the condition she was. Had Onkel Silas made any effort to find the boy? If so, he’d certain-sure never talked about it.

  Sooner or later Isaiah would come to his senses. That made it all the more important that Matt get his shop set up as quickly as possible. He could only hope that Rebecca, too, had come to see the sense of his proposal. If not, he’d have to look elsewhere, and he found himself oddly reluctant to do so.

  Renting the unused stable wasn’t just the best solution for him, being well suited to his needs and only a few miles from his uncle’s property. It surely was the best solution for Rebecca, as well. She couldn’t be finding it easy, even with her family’s help, raising two children on her own.

  A small farm like Rebecca’s was common among the Amish, and most families eked out their income with an assortment of other efforts, like a fruit stand or a quilt shop or a part-time job. That allowed the family to work together most of the time, something that was prized among the Amish, even if it was possible for the father to earn more by working at a full-time job away from home.

  Matt felt wry amusement at the idea. His time in the Englisch world had convinced him the Amish ideal ran exactly counter to the modern American dream.

  A few minutes later he was turning in the lane at Rebecca’s. In just the last couple of days, the ridge above the house had put on its spring coat of pale green leaves, their lightness a contrast to the deep green-black of the pines and hemlocks. On the lower stretches he could see the patches of pinkish white that marked the mountain laurel coming into bloom.

  Insensibly, his heart lifted at the sight. Spring was a time for new beginnings. Why shouldn’t it be a new beginning for him?

  Mindful of what Rebecca had said about her son seeing him at the stable and thinking he was his father, Matt drove up to the house and stopped at the hitching rail by the back door. Country people always came to the back of a house, not the front. He’d never found that strange until he’d lived a bit in the city.

  Sliding down, he gave the mare a pat as he fastened the line to the rail. Even as he turned toward the house, the back door opened and a small figure shot out.

  The boy skidded to a halt as he realized the visitor was a stranger. This must be Joshua. Had Rebecca mentioned the boy’s age? He didn’t remember, but Joshua looked about five or six. Round blue eyes stared warily at Matt from beneath the brim of a straw hat. Joshua wore the typical blue shirt, black pants and suspenders of most Amish boys, and under the hat his hair was as pale and soft as corn silk.

  “You must be Joshua.” Matt squatted, bringing his face to the child’s level. “My name is Matthew.”

  Joshua’s only response was a slight nod, and he took a small step back, as if not comfortable so close to a stranger.

  It was probably better not to push the boy for conversation he so clearly didn’t want. “Is your mammi here?”

  That got a more decided nod. Joshua turned, maybe intending to go after his mother. But the door opened just then and Rebecca emerged onto the porch. Joshua indicated him with a wave of his hand.

  Matt rose to his feet, feeling a little foolish given the boy’s lack of response. “Rebecca.” He nodded to her, trying to gauge her expression. “I was just getting acquainted with Joshua.”

  The boy, as if released by the sound of his name, darted off across the yard. At first Matt thought he was headed for the stable, but instead he veered toward the apple tree behind it and swarmed up, his small figure vanishing into the cloud of blossoms.

  “I didn’t mean to scare him.” Matt turned back to Rebecca in time to see her staring after her son. The look of maternal love on her face was so powerful it unsettled him. There was a fierceness about it that didn’t match his image of a shy, serene Rebecca.

  The disturbing expression faded as she faced him, her green eyes intent. “Josh is shy with strangers. Just don’t pay much attention to him, and he’ll warm up.”

  That sounded like an assumption the boy would be seeing something of him. He wasn’t sure whether to take that as a hopeful sign or not. Maybe he’d better just get to the reason he was here.

  “I hoped maybe you’d had a chance to come to a decision about renting the stable to me. If it’s a question of the money—”

  “No, no.” She shook her head, a flush coming to her cheeks at the idea that she might be bargaining with him for more. “I just . . .” She let that trail off, and Matt could feel the struggle going on inside her.

  Before he could speak, her face seemed to firm, and she met his gaze. “Tell me something first. Why? Why here? Why come back to Brook Hill at all? I know you said your uncle needs you, but there must be more to your decision than that.”

  Matt wanted to turn away from the insistence in her gaze, but he couldn’t. “That would make it a long story,” he said, hoping to deter her.

  “I have time.” Rebecca gestured toward the swing on the back porch. “Komm. Sit down.”

  He hesitated for a second, and then nodded. As he mounted the steps beside her, his shoulder brushed the bell that swung from the porch roof, and it gave off a faint reverberation, humming musically. Rebecca grasped the rope instantly, stilling the bell, an expression on her face he couldn’t interpret.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I guess you don’t want to call the kinder for supper yet.”

  Rebecca’s lips were pressed together, her expression shuttered. She didn’t answer, and he had a sense of strong emotion moving behind the facade. Clearly there was more here than just a bell, common as they were on farm porches. Just as clearly, she wasn’t going to confide in him. Not that he wanted her to.

  Matt sat at one end of the swing, hearing the chain creak. Rebecca settled herself at the other, carefully leaving a space between them wide enough for another person to occupy. She clasped her hands on her lap, pressing them against the dark green apron that matched her dress and her eyes.

  She didn’t speak, so
she must be waiting for him to start the conversation. The trouble was that he didn’t intend to tell Rebecca or anyone else his full reasons for returning to a place he’d long ago told himself he’d seen the last of.

  “You already know about Onkel Silas. Isn’t it natural I’d want to help out until Isaiah comes back?”

  She gave a slight inclination of the head. “I suppose so. But what if he doesn’t return? Will you go into partnership with your uncle?”

  “Isaiah will be back.” Every day he felt that more strongly. If for no other reason, Isaiah would return for his mamm’s sake.

  “What makes you think so? Have you heard from him?” Rebecca’s face was troubled, as if she’d seen too much of things not turning out the way they were expected to.

  Matt realized he wanted to give her an honest answer, not a pat reassurance. “No, I haven’t, but I think I know what kind of man Isaiah is, even though I haven’t seen him in a long time.” He picked his words carefully, trying to articulate to her something he hadn’t bothered to spell out for himself. “Isaiah has a good heart. He’s responsible. He won’t be able to ignore the call of the way he was brought up.”

  “You sound so sure.” Rebecca’s green eyes seemed dark with questions.

  “I am.” Or at least, he was trying to make himself believe it. “After all, I did.”

  Rebecca’s eyebrows lifted. “You? You mean you did leave the Amish?” Her hand moved in a slight gesture toward his clothing. “I thought people had all been wrong about you when they said you’d certain-sure turn Englisch.”

  “No, they had it right all along.” Clearly she wasn’t going to be satisfied unless he explained a bit more. “I think my folks thought moving out west and meeting the challenge of a new place would be enough to settle me down. Maybe it did, for a time, but eventually . . . well, I guess I was just born wanting to see what lay over the next ridge.” He glanced toward the ever-present ridge that guarded Brook Hill.

  “How did you get along out there among the Englisch?” She made it sound far away, even dangerous.

  He shrugged, aware of how close she was. Near enough that if he moved his hand, he’d bridge the gap between them. “It wasn’t as bad for me as it is for some fence-jumpers. I’d been apprenticed to a furniture maker, so I had a trade I could turn to. I did okay.”

  “But you still came back to the faith eventually.” There was a question in the words, and it was one Matt had no intention of answering.

  “I realized I didn’t really fit in anywhere else. At heart, I will always be Amish.” He let a little impatience creep into his voice, afraid if she asked more he might reveal too much. Rebecca was just too easy to talk to, with her sweet face and innocent eyes. “Why is my life story important to whether or not you rent the building to me?”

  She nodded, as if to accept the implied rebuke. “I just want to be sure you wouldn’t turn the stable into a workshop and then up and leave.”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  Again he sensed the struggle in her, and he knew he had to say something more to reassure her.

  “Look, Rebecca, I’m ready to make a permanent change in my life, and coming back to where I started is my choice. I can’t prove my commitment to you. I’m afraid you’ll just have to accept it. Or not.”

  Rebecca’s expression seemed to grow still, and he had the fanciful feeling that his words had struck an echo in her. After what seemed a long moment, she nodded. “All right.” She gave a small nod. “We have a deal. You can start moving in as soon as you want to.”

  He turned toward her, his hand braced against the back of the swing so that it nearly touched her shoulder. “Denke, Rebecca. You won’t regret it.”

  He’d like to say he promised, but experience had taught him that making promises was a dangerous thing to do.

  • • •

  Rebecca stood by the lane watching until Matt’s buggy disappeared behind the trees along the road. Was she doing the right thing? She could only pray she wouldn’t regret this decision.

  She’d been on the verge of saying no. And then Matt had said something about changing his life, making a fresh start. She’d been irresistibly reminded of the promise she’d made to Grossmammi about reacting positively to life’s changes, and she’d been caught.

  Well, having Matt working in the stable that she still thought of as Paul’s would certainly be one of those changes, and she’d just have to do her best to welcome it.

  Thoughts of supper stirred in her mind, and she went up the three steps to the porch, unable to prevent herself from looking at the bell as she passed it. Her stomach had lurched when Matt had brushed against it, and at just the thought, she felt the sensation again.

  She reached up, her fingertips touching the cool metal. She and Paul had been moving the last few things into the farmhouse when she’d come outside and found him attaching the bell to the roof of the porch.

  “Whatever are you doing?” She’d looked up at him, laughing a little at the sight of him teetering on a chair to fasten the bracket.

  “I’m putting the final touch to our new home.” He stepped down lightly. “Every farmhouse has to have a bell. How else will you call me for supper when I’m out in the fields, or let me know if you need me? When I was little, no matter where I was on the farm, I could hear the bell calling me home.”

  He swept her up in his arms with a quick movement, his face alight with joy and love. “Now this is our home, ain’t so?”

  “Ach, for sure it is. But you’d better put me down before someone sees.” She hadn’t really meant her chiding, and he knew it. She had loved feeling his strong arms around her and knowing the two of them belonged to each other.

  “I won’t put you down until you ring the bell for the first time.” He held her so she could reach the cord.

  Smiling at his excitement over something so simple, she pulled the rope, sending the bell’s sweet peal singing across the valley.

  Paul had pressed his cheek against hers. “Whenever I hear the bell ring, I’ll know you’re calling me home. For the rest of our days.”

  He’d never imagined that their days would be cut so short. Rebecca caressed the bell once more and then stepped resolutely away from it. She had no choice but to accept what God had sent them.

  “What are you doing, Mammi?” Joshua trotted across the grass, looking at her with curiosity in his face.

  “Nothing.” She put a hand on his shoulder and drew him to her, sitting down on the top step. “Tell me something, Josh. Why did you run away when Matthew was here?”

  Josh shrugged, his usual response when he didn’t know what to say or when he didn’t want to answer. Still, Josh would need to get over his shyness now that Matt would be around often.

  “I know he’s a stranger to you, but Matt is an old friend. He was in school with me and your daadi. There’s no need for you to be shy with him.”

  Her thoughts flickered to the rebellious teenager Matt had been. But she had no right to judge him now by who he’d been years ago.

  “Anyway, he’s going to rent the stable to use for his furniture-making business, so you’ll see him around a lot. You will be polite, ain’t so?” She smoothed his silky hair out of his eyes.

  Josh nodded solemnly. “I will, Mammi.”

  “What are you talking about?” Katie emerged from the house, letting the screen door bang behind her. She hopped down the steps on one foot and stood teetering a little.

  “We were talking about Matthew Byler.” Rebecca eyed her daughter warily, not sure how Katie would take this news. “He’s the man I was talking to in the stable the other day.”

  “He’s going to make furniture in Daadi’s stable,” Josh announced, preventing Rebecca from finding a gentler way of revealing a truth she suspected Katie wouldn’t like.

  Katie planted both feet on the ground and her fists o
n her hips, staring at Rebecca. “No, he’s not. That’s dumb.”

  “Don’t say that word,” Rebecca said automatically. “We don’t have a use for the stable, so Matthew Byler wants to rent it from us. That means he’ll pay us to use it for his furniture making.”

  Katie stared at her for what seemed forever, her normally sunny small face setting in stubborn lines. “No. He can’t. It’s Daadi’s stable.”

  Her voice trembled a little on the words, and Rebecca’s heart twisted. Poor Katie. She remembered her father’s dreams more than Joshua did.

  “I know we built the stable for Daadi’s horses. But Daadi has no need for it now that he’s in heaven.” The Amish weren’t generally so proud as to claim they knew they were going to heaven, but about Paul she had no doubt.

  Clouds gathered on Katie’s face. “It doesn’t matter. The stable still belongs to Daadi. Nobody else can have it.”

  “Katie, that is foolish.” Maybe her voice was a little tart because she understood what Katie felt. “Daadi would not want the stable to sit empty when someone can use it. You know how generous Daadi was.”

  “No!” Katie’s voice rose. “It’s still not right. You can’t let someone else have it.”

  The vehemence in her child’s tone startled Rebecca. She understood the emotion that prompted it, but she could not allow Katie to speak to an adult that way.

  “This is not up to you, Katie. It’s a grown-up decision.” She hoped that sounded final.

  “I’ll tell Grossdaadi,” Katie flashed back. “He won’t let you.”

  Rebecca grasped her daughter by the arms, genuinely shocked and dismayed. “Katie, that will do. This is my decision, no one else’s, and I have made it.” As lonely as the words sounded, they were true. “I will hear no more about it.”

  Katie stared at her, and Rebecca suspected she was shaken both by the decision and the fact that her mother had made it. She longed to reach out and pull Katie against her in comfort, but she couldn’t allow her to get away with being disrespectful. Paul never would have, and now the burden of discipline, like so much else, was hers alone.