LARRY DOZIER PULLED HIS RENTAL CAR INTO BEILER’S BED-and-Breakfast and wished he’d had time to change out of his sheriff’s uniform before leaving Middlefield. Cops made people nervous, and the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself. As he walked to the small office on the side of the B & B, he heard the sound of a buggy coming up the drive that ran parallel to the large brick establishment.
Buggies and Amish folks were nothing new to him since he lived right outside of Middlefield, one of the largest Amish settlements in Ohio. He’d noticed during his drive from the airport that Amish folks in these parts drove gray buggies instead of black, and he found it downright frightening that signs lined the main highway stating Watch for Aggressive Drivers. And where were the speed limit signs? He scratched his chin and wondered if he was the only one who noticed this. He’d never been to Paradise, Pennsylvania, before.
He walked from the back parking area, rounded the corner, and saw a sign on the door—Office and Dining Area. He entered the room and found an Amish woman tidying up behind a counter that boasted a large coffeepot, cups, sugar, creamer, and a tray of cookies. There were several small tables in the room covered with white tablecloths, each with two chairs tucked close. He breathed in the aroma of freshly baked goods that permeated the space around him. This is where he would be having breakfast for the next few mornings, or however long it took to find Naaman Lapp.
“Good afternoon.” Larry walked to the counter and set his suitcase down. “I have a reservation for Larry Dozier.”
Ya, ya. I have your key right here.” The young woman reached into her apron pocket and handed Larry a key. “You’re in the Rose Room. It’s on the third floor.”
Larry took the key and noticed that the white covering on her head was different from those worn by the Amish women in Middlefield. “Thank you.” He picked up his suitcase. “Did you say the third floor?”
“Ya. It was the only room we had left when you called yesterday to make a reservation.”
Larry nodded and wondered if his knee would hold out up three flights of stairs.
“And, Mr. Dozier, breakfast is served between seven o’clock and nine o’clock. It’s buffet-style, so just come when you’re ready.”
He was heading for the stairs when the woman called his name again. He twisted to face her. “Yes?”
“When you called yesterday, you weren’t sure how long you would be staying. Do you know yet?”
Larry saw her eyeing him up and down. She was probably wondering what he was doing in town, although he didn’t owe her any explanation. It was Friday afternoon, and Larry figured he would be in town at least until Monday or Tuesday. Tomorrow he had to find a quilt for Patsy and pick up a few other touristy items his wife had requested. Sunday, he wouldn’t bother Naaman and his family. He had enough respect for the Amish folks not to intrude on a Sunday. “Plan on my staying through Monday night. If that changes, I’ll let you know.”
“That sounds fine. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be needing the room into the following weekend. We usually book up on the weekends.”
“I imagine my business here will be taken care of by then.”
AFTER HIS TRIP WITH LEVINA TO MARKET AND LUNCH AT Yoder’s Pantry, Naaman spent the rest of the day doing a list of odd jobs. He replaced the loose doorknob in the bathroom with one they’d bought that morning, carried a heavy box of books downstairs that Tillie wanted, and replaced a broken pane of glass in Jonathan’s old room. Levina had told her older grandchildren not to play baseball so close to the house. She smiled to herself as she recalled the first time that Adam put a baseball through one of the windows. It wasn’t the last time either.
For supper, she heated up some cream of carrot soup she had in the freezer and served it to Naaman with warmed butter bread. She and Naaman shared devotional time, followed by a small slice of German apple cake she had made earlier in the day. It all seemed very normal and familiar. Until bedtime.
Levina tried to focus on the gardening magazine she’d picked up in town, but her eyes were heavy and she kept having to adjust the lantern brighter and brighter to see. She pushed up her reading glasses on her nose and stifled a yawn.
“Levina, why don’t you go to bed?” Naaman removed his own reading glasses and closed the book he was reading. “And let me sleep in Tillie’s room tonight.”
She yawned, then looked at her husband. “No, I will sleep in Tillie’s room. It’s no bother.” She pulled her gaze from him and recalled the way she’d curled up in the bed with him the night before, quiet as she could be and careful not to get too close. She’d longed for the protectiveness of his arms around her, but until she was sure that she could trust him, she wouldn’t slip back into her wifely role . . . even though her heart danced with excitement at the thought of Naaman loving her in that way.
Levina buried her head back in the magazine, but the words on the page blurred as she tried to recall the last time that she and Naaman were intimate. She couldn’t remember. Were they too busy? Too tired? Or just uninterested? Levina could feel Naaman watching her intently, and even though she feared it would weaken her resolve, she looked up at him. The tenderness of his kiss lingered in her mind, and her desire to be held by her husband almost overrode her anxiety about trusting him again. But she forced herself to look away from his gaze, his eyes filled with tenderness and passion that she longed to share with him.
Such silliness. These were not proper thoughts for a middle-aged woman. I’m a grandma, for goodness’ sake.
“Levina?”
“Ya?” Her heart raced. She recognized the suggestive tone of his voice, even though it had been a mighty long time since she’d heard it.
Naaman’s brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to say something, clamped it shut, then opened and shut it again. Finally he drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I reckon I will bathe and go to bed.”
“Good night.” And thank the Lord.
Sharing a bed with Naaman was not a decision she could make casually, even though he was her husband. He betrayed their marriage vows the day he left for Middlefield, and she wasn’t ready to let down her guard just yet. What if he decided that he didn’t want to be here? Chose to leave again? Could her heart withstand another blow? For now, she wanted to keep a safe distance from him. But as she watched him walk across the den and down the hallway, there was nothing she wanted more than to follow him to their bedroom and fall into his arms.
AFTER HIS BATH, NAAMAN CLIMBED INTO BED, AGAIN FEELING guilty that Levina was across the hall in Tillie’s old bed. It seemed wrong for her not to be in her own bed, but Naaman knew it would take time for his wife to trust him again. For the thousandth time he pondered why he’d ever left Lancaster County in the first place.
When he stretched his memory to that time in his life, he could recall the tightness in his chest, the sense of suffocation, doubt about everything in his life, and the pressure to flee all he’d ever known. He pulled the covers to his waist and watched rays of light from the lantern flickering on the ceiling above.
Naaman thought about Paul Zook. He remembered when his friend left his wife and family to go live among the Englisch over twenty years ago. Paul never came back, and Naaman didn’t think he would ever understand Paul’s decision. For Naaman, it had never been about living in the Englisch world. That didn’t interest him. When he left for Ohio, it was supposed to be for a few weeks, just to clear his head, though he didn’t tell Levina that. He just said he was going to visit his cousins, and he didn’t elaborate much. He was pretty sure Levina knew it would be an extended stay.
What kind of man am I? Being back with Levina and around the children made him question his actions even more. With each day he was consumed with trying to forgive himself and yet make it up to his family. His burdens seemed heavier than before he left. It had been a selfish move, and he knew it. He’d spent his entire life doing everything he was supposed to do—provided for his family, raised his children according to the Ordnung, been an upstanding member of the community. And he’d been a good husband to Levina. So why?
His chest tightened when he thought about his visit with Bishop Ebersol tomorrow. It was a meeting he couldn’t avoid, but shame filled him. It would be hard to look the bishop in the eyes and explain his choices when Naaman didn’t even understand them himself. He reached for the bottle of aspirin on his bedside table and popped two pills into his mouth, followed by a swig of water, and wondered if his hip was ever going to feel normal again. Then he let out a heavy sigh and settled into his pillow.
Dear Lord, help me to be a better man.
Naaman went through a long list of prayers, thanking God for all he’d been blessed with, but in the end, he repeated what consumed him the most. Please, Lord, help me to be a better man.
When the door to the bedroom suddenly swung wide, Naaman didn’t think he’d ever seen such beauty. Levina stood in the doorway, her silky hair to her waist, wearing a long white gown that reached almost to the floor. In her bare feet she edged forward slowly into the room. Naaman sat up in the bed.
“Levina, are you all right?” He turned the lantern on his nightstand up a bit to see her better, which illuminated her face enough for Naaman to study her expression. Her brown eyes were flat and unreadable as stone, but Naaman could still see the unspoken pain she’d been burdened with since he arrived. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing as his hip popped with the movement. “What is it?”
She was a few feet from the bed when Naaman stood up. Her eyes shone brighter as she stepped into the pale light from the lantern, and a twinkle of moonlight spilled into the room. Had she come back to their marital bed, deciding to resume her role as his wife? Naaman tried to decipher the faraway look in her eyes. Was she longing for him the way he desired to be with her?
He took a step toward her, and with a slow and steady hand he reached up and ran a hand through her hair. “You look beautiful, Levina.”
She didn’t move as Naaman cupped her cheek. He leaned closer to kiss her, but she backed away, and there was undeniable pain in her eyes. Naaman braced himself for whatever she was about to say.
“Naaman?” She bit her bottom lip as tears filled her eyes.
“What is it, mei leib?” He stepped toward her, but she moved back farther, so he stood and waited, watching her eyes shift from remote and mysterious to sharp and assessing.
“I know I asked you this before, but I–I need to be sure that there wasn’t someone else.” She paused. “In Ohio. Are you telling me the truth, Naaman? If there was another woman, you must tell me.”
Naaman’s stomach sank as he ran a hand through his hair.