Beth had thought to be at work early the next day, but by the time she’d seen Benjy off to her brother Eli’s house to spend the day, she had to hurry down the lane to the store. She didn’t know what her family knew or guessed, but without any questions or advice, they had rallied around.
When Daadi had brought Benjy back at supper time, he’d also brought a meal, still warm and ready to be put on the table. And with it he’d brought an invitation for Benjy to spend the day with his cousins. She had nearly cried with gratitude.
If you don’t know what else to do for someone in time of trouble, you can pray and take food. That’s never the wrong thing to do.
Her mother’s oft-repeated advice made her smile, despite the fact that she’d assumed this day would include nothing to smile about. Her very practical mother had it right. The warm supper had comforted her, and with Benjy off having fun with his cousins today, she didn’t need to fear that he’d hear something he shouldn’t.
Beth shivered a little, wrapping her sweater more tightly around her. The morning breeze was colder, sweeping along the lane and stripping leaves from the trees. Autumn seemed to be passing faster than ever, or was it just that she was a year older?
And a year wiser? She thought back over the events of recent months, unsure as to whether wiser was the right word. Certainly she’d had her eyes opened, but it was too soon to know if she’d learned something.
Going in the back entrance, she listened for voices. The only one she heard was that of Timothy, irrepressible as always, teasing Daniel about something.
What if Anna didn’t come? The bishop had responded to her call, suggesting she and Anna come between ten and twelve this morning. If he’d been curious as to what brought the two of them to seek his advice, he hadn’t betrayed it in his voice.
If Anna didn’t show up... Well, she didn’t know what she ought to do. Shaking off the question, she hung up her sweater and bonnet and told herself to stop borrowing trouble. She had enough worries without jumping ahead to create more. Anna was probably here already, wondering where she was.
Smoothing her apron down, Beth marched from the office to the store, uttering an inarticulate prayer and hardly knowing what to pray for.
She sent a quick searching glance around the store, but she didn’t find Anna. Her gaze caught Daniel’s, and he shook his head at her obvious query.
Beth felt flattened and her worries came back in force. If Anna had lost her nerve, Beth would have to think of some explanation for the bishop. If she’d told her parents, she supposed that Hiram would try to exact the full penalty of the church, and the whole ugly story would become public.
With a word to Timothy, Daniel came over to her. “She hasn’t come in yet, and I haven’t heard from her. Have you heard anything?”
Beth shook her head. She tried to remember to treat him coolly, but she was too worried, and Daniel was the only one she could talk to.
“Not since yesterday. We can see Bishop Tom this morning between ten and twelve. If she doesn’t show up, I’m not sure what to do.”
Daniel touched her hand lightly—a barely felt brush of a leaf. “Try not to worry. She may well be here before then. If not, we’ll figure out what to do.”
She ought to resent his effort to include himself, but she couldn’t help being relieved to feel she wasn’t alone. “Denke.” She kept her voice low, seeing Timothy approaching.
“You want me to put the Open sign up, Onkel Daniel?” His gaze slipped from one to the other of them, obviously wondering, but at least not asking what was going on.
“Yah, go ahead. Then you can take the checkout.”
Timothy made a slight grimace at his uncle’s directions, but he didn’t say anything. When he walked off to unlock the door, Beth gave Daniel a questioning glance.
“What does he have against checking customers out?”
Daniel attempted to smile. “I think it gives less time to talk to any girls who happen to come in. What his mother would say, I don’t know.”
“I can certainly take it. Having something to occupy my mind will help.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather work in the office? You can update the orders. If... When Anna shows up, I’ll send her in.”
Actually, that did sound better. It might be difficult to talk to customers when her mind was skittering from one thing to another like a water bug on a pond.
“All right.” She hesitated, feeling as if there were something else she should say but not finding the words. Finally, she gave him a meaningless smile and hurried off to the office.
Closing the office door behind her, Beth let out a long breath. Daniel had been right. She needed four walls around her, protecting her from any curious glances.
If Anna didn’t come... She slammed the question down. She’d cope with that if and when it happened. Right now, she was better off concentrating on facts and figures.
She’d made her way through one column of figures and started another when the office door creaked. Anna crept in, wrapping a shawl around her and sliding along the wall as if to remain invisible.
Beth hadn’t realized how much she’d feared that Anna wouldn’t show up. Relief made her feel weak for a moment.
“I’m glad you’re here, Anna. Are you all right?”
Anna nodded, but her face was so sallow she looked as if she wanted to disappear into the woodwork. “The bishop?”
Beth stood. “He’ll see us this morning. We should leave in about forty-five minutes.” She rounded the desk and took Anna’s arm. “We’ll have coffee before we go. That will make you feel better.”
It could hardly make her worse. At the moment she looked as if she’d pass out at an unkind word.
Putting her arm around the girl, she led her next door to the break room. Guiding her to a chair, she pushed Anna into it and started making the coffee.
This might be a little easier if they talked, but she couldn’t find anything to say. The main thing between them loomed like an enormous barricade that might collapse on them at a careless word.
She’d have to find a way to talk before they reached Bishop Tom, or they’d sit there staring at each other.
Beth and Anna arrived at Bishop Thomas Braun’s wheelwright workshop, with Beth relieved to see that no other buggies were pulled up in the lane. Bishop Tom’s services were in demand, since wheelwrights were few and far between. She remembered her grandmother telling her once that some folks were dismayed when the lot fell on Thomas Braun, calling him to the ministry. Some had feared he wouldn’t be able to do both jobs.
Somehow, like every Amish person called by God, he’d taken care of the community’s spiritual needs as well as their buggies. Now that he was bishop, he had in his charge not only their church but also the adjoining one. He’d never failed to be there when his people needed him.
Swinging herself down from her buggy, Beth murmured a silent prayer that both she and Anna would be able to explain this tangled story in a way he’d understand.
When she rounded the buggy, she found that Anna was still sitting on the seat. Her head was bent, and she seemed frozen in the spot.
Beth reached up to touch her arm, fearing she’d have to push and pull the girl into the bishop’s presence. “Komm now, Anna. It’s time.”
Anna looked at her, her eyes wide with fright and her lips trembling. She gave Beth the impression she was unable to speak.
“I know,” she said softly. “But it must be done, no matter how hard it is. For either of us.”
Maybe the reminder that Beth was hurting as well got through to her. With Beth’s help, Anna climbed down. Grasping her arm, Beth propelled her into the long metal building.
Bishop Thomas rose from kneeling beside the wheel of a family buggy and came toward them.
“I am glad you’re here,” he said, his voice grave as befitted the occasion. “Komm. We’ll go into my room.”
The room proved to be a small frame shed attached to the workshop, containing a desk, a shelf of books and several chairs. Following his gesture, Beth led Anna to a seat and sat down next to her, feeling as apprehensive as if waiting for a scolding from Mamm for some childish mischief. But there was nothing childish about this.
“Now we can talk. No one will disturb us.” He looked from one to the other, his blue eyes keen and kind.
With his long beard, grown gray in his service to his people, he’d always reminded Beth of an Old Testament prophet—one of the stern but forgiving ones.
Beth realized that Anna was frozen again. Apparently, she’d have to go first. Maybe that was the best thing—she could unravel the story as it had occurred to her.
“I’m afraid it’s a long story.” She glanced uncertainly at Anna. “I’ll have to start at the beginning.”
He nodded. “Take as long as you need.”
A deep breath seemed to give her the courage she needed. “It started when Lydia, my cousin, and I were getting James’s clothes ready to give away. I hadn’t touched anything until about a month after his passing.”
She stopped for breath. At least she’d started. There was no turning back now. “In a drawer under his clothing, I found a note. It was obviously from a woman, and it pleaded with James to meet her at the usual place.”
Bishop Tom’s eyes twitched at that, and he glanced toward Anna.
“At first I didn’t know what to think. I was angry and hurt, and I kept thinking I must find out who it was.” She paused, trying to think how to put it. “I was hurt and angry with both of them. I couldn’t think of anything else. But I kept trying to pray about it, and as time went on, I knew I couldn’t keep living in the past. It wasn’t gut for me or for Benjy. Then this week, I found out.” She looked at Anna. “She confessed to me, and she asked for my forgiveness.”
She came to a stop, not knowing what else to say. It was Anna’s turn now.
Bishop Tom looked from her to Anna, who seemed to shrink under his gaze. “Anna?”
Her face twisted as she struggled to speak. “I was the one. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. I was so unhappy, and James was kind. He was always smiling, and when he smiled at me, I felt better.”
“So you met with him. Did you sneak out to do this?”
Anna sniffled and nodded.
“How many times?”
Was he counting up Anna’s sins? Maybe they had to admit each wrong in order to be forgiven. How many sins did she have on her conscience?
“F-four,” Anna whispered. “At that old schoolhouse on Owl Hollow Road.”
He was still for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was grave. “I must ask you, Anna. How far did this relationship with James go?”
Anna was crying now, tears flowing freely, and Beth felt her eyes sting with tears.
“We just talked mostly,” she whispered. “Sometimes he hugged me. Twice he...he kissed me.” The whisper had gone almost to silence.
When she looked at the bishop again, Beth had the sense that he’d aged in the past few minutes. It was as if he’d taken their wrongs upon himself.
“And that’s all?”
Anna nodded, sobbing.
“Do you wish to confess your sins and be restored to a right relationship with God and His people?”
“Yah.” Her voice was choked with sobs, but she seemed to sense that she had to say this aloud.
Bishop Thomas turned his gaze to her, and Beth felt as if he could see right through her.
“Beth, have you forgiven Anna for the wrong she has done to you?”
“Yah.” She couldn’t say it fast enough. How could she blame that miserable child for what had happened? It was James who would be difficult to forgive.
“Have you forgiven James for breaking his wedding vows?” He seemed to read her mind.
“I am trying.” She wiped away tears. “I say I forgive him, but I have to do it again.” She looked at him. “But I am trying.”
He nodded, as if satisfied. “Do you wish to confess whatever lack of forgiveness is still in your heart and be restored to a right relationship with God?”
“Yah.” She wiped the tears again. “I do.”
He glanced from one to the other. “Please kneel and confess.”
Anna was almost on her knees already, but she sank the rest of the way. Beth, slipping to her knees, watched Anna warily, half-afraid she would pass out.
But she began, managing in a shaking voice to confess her wrongs and ask for forgiveness.
Then it was Beth’s turn. Confessing her initial anger was easy enough, as was declaring her forgiveness of Anna. The challenge was asking with a whole heart to be able to forgive James.
When it was done and forgiveness proclaimed, a cleansing warmth swept through her. It was in the past, forgiven. No one else ever needed to know. She turned to Anna, and in a moment they were in each other’s arms, weeping but rejoicing.
Daniel had managed to spend most of the day within sight of the windows, watching for any sign of Beth’s buggy. Finally, at midafternoon, it came in view, but she didn’t stop at the store. She drove straight down the lane toward her own house.
He fought down his disappointment. He’d expected that at least she’d tell him what had happened. Maybe she felt he’d forfeited any right to feel concern for her.
Since she was alone, he’d guess she’d taken Anna on home. How would that have gone? If Anna had to tell her parents the whole story, that would have been an unpleasant time, to say the least. For the Fisher family, for sure, but for Beth, as well.
He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the taut muscles react painfully to the touch. He told himself he’d done the right thing for both Beth and Anna, but that was small comfort given Beth’s feelings.
When Timothy left, Daniel locked the front door and pulled down the shades. On any ordinary day, he’d check out and then go home, where Mamm and his sister-in-law would have supper ready. Today he’d choke if he tried to eat.
They wouldn’t worry if he didn’t show up. They’d just put something back for him, assuming something had detained him at the store. He was detained, all right, but not in the way they’d think. And there was always something to do here.
Daniel was checking inventory in the storeroom when he heard the rattle of the front doorknob. If it was a belated customer wanting him to open up, he or she would have to do without.
Before he could argue with himself about it, he heard another sound—a key turning in the lock and the door opening. Beth? His heart jumped into his throat, and his fingers slid from the shelf.
Cautious, half-afraid of how she’d look and what she’d say, he opened the door a few inches and stood watching her.
Beth wasn’t looking in his direction. Did she think the store was empty? She walked slowly back through the store, pausing to look from one thing to another, reaching out to touch a shelf or straighten a carton.
It was almost as if she were saying goodbye, and his heart sank. He could hardly expect anything else. If she thought he’d deceived her, she wouldn’t want to work with him any longer.
She turned slightly, and he got a better look at her face. It was pale and drained, and yet she didn’t look shaken. She looked at peace, as if she’d accepted whatever happened with the bishop as God’s will.
He must have made some sound, because Beth glanced toward the back of the store and saw him. He held his breath, wondering if he’d know what she was thinking when she spoke.
“Daniel. I thought you’d left.”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t. Not when I was worrying about what happened to you. Did Bishop Thomas agree with the way you wanted to handle it?”
For a moment, she looked as if she didn’t know what he was talking about. Then she seemed to realize. “Yah. Well, actually, I never had a chance to ask it. He listened to both of us, and he was so kind, so understanding.” Her face relaxed in a half smile. “Once Bishop Thomas took over, I guess I realized that it was foolish to try to tell him what to do.”
That was good, he guessed. He’d never had to confess anything of that sort, but he thought a great deal of the bishop’s wisdom and his knowledge of his people.
“What about Anna?” He moved a little closer to her, alert for any sign that she found it intrusive.
“I was afraid once or twice that she’d pass out. But other than that, she was all right. She held herself together and told the whole story, just the way she’d told it to me.”
“Gut.” He began to relax a little. If the truth was out to the bishop, surely there was not much to worry about. “I’m glad. I was afraid she’d fall to pieces and not be able to tell him.”
Her old smile lit her face. “Me, too. I’ve never been so glad. I didn’t have to try and explain it.”
Daniel was so relieved to see the old Beth again that he wanted to laugh. “No public confession?”
Beth shook her head. “Bishop Thomas listened to her confession and announced her forgiveness. And then he asked me to confess.”
“Wh-what did you have to confess? You were the injured party.”
“He asked if I had forgiven Anna. And then he asked if I’d forgiven James.”
“That would be harder.”
“Yah. I could only say I was trying. And I’d keep on trying.” Her voice shook a little. “Sometimes I think I have, and then it jumps back up again.”
She was struggling, and he longed to help her but didn’t know how. “That is natural, isn’t it? When someone has hurt you so badly?”
Beth nodded, giving him a look of gratitude, her eyes filled with tears, so that they looked more than ever like two green lakes. He couldn’t help it—he took both her hands in his. She didn’t pull away.
“I think I understand James better now,” she said. “Or maybe I see him more clearly. He had faults and weaknesses like we all do, but he wasn’t a bad person.”
Daniel thought of his friend as a boy, as a teenager and then as the man he’d become. He’d been self-centered at times, spoiled, maybe, but Daniel couldn’t regret their friendship.
“Yah, you’re right.”
“For a time, I thought that I could never trust anyone again.” She went on, her voice as soft as if she spoke to herself. “But that was so foolish. There were people I already trusted, even when I told myself that. People like Daad and Mamm. And you.”
He was sure he’d heard only what he’d wished. But she was looking at him, her eyes clear and untroubled. He felt her pulse beating against his hands, and he knew that what he’d always wanted was within reach.
It was too soon, of course. They both knew that. But he had to speak. Even if they had to wait, it would be worth it.
He moved his fingers caressingly on the soft skin on the inside of her wrists. “Once, a long time ago, I realized that it was you I wanted, but I let James edge me out of the picture. I won’t do that again.”
A smile trembled on her lips as she lifted her face to his. “No. Please don’t do that again.”
Carefully he drew her closer, until she rested against him and their lips met once, very lightly. “I love you, Beth. When it’s time, I want to marry you. To be Benjy’s father and maybe the father of other kinder with you. And I will cherish you all my life.”
They stood close together, hands clasped, and he knew that out of the shattered remains of marriage and friendship had come a love that was stronger—one that would last a lifetime in obedience to God.
If you enjoyed this story,
don’t miss the previous books in the
Brides of Lost Creek series from Marta Perry:
Second Chance Amish Bride
The Wedding Quilt Bride
The Promised Amish Bride
Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com
Keep reading for an excerpt from The Wrangler’s Last Chance by Jessica Keller.