Esther sat on the back porch and watched as distant clouds washed over the moon, a sliver of gold. Light and dark were so close. One did not exist without the other. Her eyes glanced above her toward her bedroom window on the second floor, where Daisy had been asleep for several hours. Esther had gone through the motions for the rest of the evening. When Chester left the first time, it was because of the war; this time he left because of her.
Since Daisy was sleeping soundly, Esther rose to her feet to take a short walk. She removed her covering and hung it on a nail on the porch. It was late and her hair was mussed, but a summer breeze pushing through her escaped curls would feel nice. Her bare feet found an old friend—a footpath that had grown wild since Irene’s death. A path they’d walked in secret after her shunning. Only the scar of the trail remained, but it felt familiar as soon as she began to walk. The hay in the field to her left smelled sweet in the breeze, and everything was quiet the way she liked it.
“Esther?” Joe’s voice startled her. He was standing right before her. Lightning bugs flew around, pouring light into the darkness. He was wearing worn denims and a white undershirt. His hair matched the moon, and his eyes lighted the space around him. His presence sparked heat inside her again.
“Joe?” The memory of her hateful words toward him brought the drum of her heart. “Daisy’s sleeping—she usually—she should be okay for a short walk.”
Joe waved away her words.
“You would know better than I.” His voice was soft and luxurious, but his brow still looked beaten down from her earlier words.
“Joe, about before—” Her hand went to her forehead, pushing away a stray curl. Her embarrassment that she wasn’t wearing a covering was only diminished by the prevailing darkness. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
“I don’t want to talk about that right now,” Joe interrupted. Esther couldn’t read his level of anger. “I came out here to get away from—everything.”
“Then I should leave you to your solitude.” Esther turned to go, but Joe’s warm hand wrapped around her arm. She turned to look at him. He was closer now and she could smell the faint scent of a shower. He slowly released her arm and she instantly felt cold and disappointed. She pushed away those feelings by clearing her throat.
“Walk with me?” he asked.
Shyness was braided into his words. A pull radiated through her chest, and Esther fell in step with him as they walked toward his home.
What was he after? Surely it wasn’t simply her company after how she’d treated him.
“Irene and I used to meet on this path.” As soon as she spoke her dead cousin’s name, she regretted it. Irene’s very spirit pressed against Esther, proclaiming how different everyone always said they were. She was light, and Esther was dark. Everyone always spoke of Irene’s beauty and of Esther’s hard work.
“I know.” He looked over at her. There was something behind his eyes that made Esther curious. Maybe something close to reminiscent happiness, and the softness was comforting to her. “She loved you very much.” An old Joe smile flourished then wilted in a single moment.
“Hmm,” Esther responded simply, not knowing what else to say. The Amish didn’t often talk of feelings openly.
“She told me once, soon after she was shunned, that losing you was the most difficult part of leaving the church. I didn’t understand then, but I do now.”
Esther looked up at Joe, and their eyes connected. Joe stopped walking and after another step so did she. Nervous from his intensity, she turned away and saw Joe’s white barn silhouetted in the distance.
“I’ve never seen you without your kapp.” She couldn’t see his face but could hear the smile in his words.
Usually Englishers called it a bonnet, and the fact that he’d called it the proper name caused her to reconsider his motives. Her stomach swirled and brought on a wave of confusion. She squeezed her eyes shut. Joe had been Irene’s husband—yet he was so changed from that man. When he’d mowed her lawn and invited her to walk with him, there was something different in the way he looked at her than other men did. His eyes saw her. It was confusing. Frightening, even.
There was a burn of heat behind her for a moment when she realized that Joe was close. Too close. She didn’t move a muscle when he spun one of the curls at her temple around his finger. The slight pull of the strand spread a sensation that radiated through her whole scalp and down her neck.
“Joe,” she started to say, and turned to look at him. He was so close. She’d been given a sloppy kiss from a boy when she was only sixteen, but never since. He moved closer by measures. One of Joe’s hands pressed against the side of her neck, and the feeling of his calluses against her skin stirred her senses. His gentleness was nothing like the shameful groping when she was a youth during her rumspringa. That years-ago kiss had made her feel foolish.
Joe’s touch was electric, forbidden. But the current couldn’t be broken. When Esther smelled beer on Joe’s breath, she woke up.
She pushed him away. “You’ve been drinking. Why would you—?”
A desperate ache grew like a weed from her stomach to her throat. He wasn’t quite himself since she found him on her path. His calm and even conversation wasn’t anything like the Joe who had walked off the train. The mockery of the drink that flowed through his veins was all this was. She was a fool. She’d almost let him kiss her. She’d even wanted him to. Why? She didn’t know.
Joe stepped toward her, reaching for her.
“Esther, I—”
He was interrupted by a loud cry from Esther’s house, still visible in the waning moonlight. There was no question who was screaming.
“Daisy. I need to go.” She turned to leave but he grabbed her arm.
“What? That’s Daisy? Why is she screaming? I’m coming with you.”
Esther looked down at his hand around her forearm. He didn’t let go.
“You’re not coming with me,” she said forcefully and pulled her arm from his grip.
“If she’s in trouble, I need to be there.” He started walking toward Esther’s house, and then she took his arm and pulled him back.
“Dreams, Joe. She has bad dreams.” Her skin was taut around her jaw.
“Dreams?” He turned around and came within inches of her, his hands on both of her forearms this time. Their breathing mingled together with the evening chorus of nature. “Esther, tell me.”
“She had a lot of them when you first left. Almost every night for months. Then they were gone.”
He let go of her arms and his chest deflated.
“They came back?” he asked. “When did they come back?”
She was breathless and wasn’t sure she wanted to answer him.
“They came back when you came home.”
Without another word she turned and left him standing there alone.