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Chapter Nineteen

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Jemima sat sewing on the couch in the living room. The sound of a horse’s hooves on the road outside made Rachel walk to the front door and peek out the glass pane, but Jemima continued to sew.

“Why, it looks like Joseph Beiler,” she murmured. Then she pursed her lips, and turned to her daughter.

“But that wasn’t news to you, was it, Mima?” she asked, and then nodded knowingly. “Yes, I can see that it wasn’t. I’ll make sure that no one interrupts the two of you,” she smiled.

Jemima didn’t look up. “Thank you, Mamm,” she murmured.

But after her mother was gone, Jemima sighed deeply. She’d decided to take Deborah’s advice and break it off with her admirers, at last.

She’d written Joseph a short note a few days ago, asking him to come to the house. She dreaded this meeting, and hated to hurt Joseph – sweet, smitten Joseph – but she couldn’t let him go on thinking that she was going to marry him.

She heard him park the buggy into the yard, and after a few minutes, the sound of his footsteps crunched over the snow. She almost smiled. Joseph had such big feet.

The porch steps creaked under him, and his knock at the door sounded loud in the stillness. Jemima put away her sewing, and rose to answer it.

Joseph was standing in the doorway, his dark eyes shining. His cheeks were rosy with the cold, and Jemima stared at him wistfully. He really was so handsome.

She tried to smile. “Come in, Joseph,” she murmured, and held the door open.

Joseph took off his hat, and scraped the snow off his boots politely, and stepped in.

“Come and sit with me,” she invited, and motioned toward the couch.

He sat down quickly, and she sat down beside him. He searched her face with his eyes, and his smile faltered.

“What’s this I see?” he said quietly, and took her chin gently in his hand. “You look – sad.”

Jemima turned her head, and his hand fell away. “I am sad, Joseph,” she answered softly. “I have to tell you something that will hurt you, and I hate to do it. We’ve been such good friends, and I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”

His eyes registered confusion. “What could make my maus sad?” he asked, and reached for her hand, but she wouldn’t let him take it.

Jemima closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to see his reaction.

“I asked you here to tell you – that I can’t marry you, Joseph,” she said simply. “I can’t let you make plans, and buy a house, and – and go on thinking that we’re engaged.”

There was no sound at all. Jemima took a deep breath, and when she opened her eyes, Joseph was looking down at his hands. Her heart ached for him.

He shook his head, once. “How can that be?” he asked brokenly. “How? After all that’s passed between us?”

“Joseph, I-I’ve always been so fond of you, but – I’ve searched my own heart, and I’m not in love with you, at least, not enough to be your wife. I can’t marry you. It wouldn’t be fair,” she whispered.

“But – but why not?” he asked.

If it had been a less painful conversation, she might almost have sputtered out a fond laugh. Joseph was so sweet and naïve – like a child, sometimes.

When she didn’t answer, he looked up, and there was a tinge of anger in his eyes. “There’s someone else, isn’t there, Mima?” she asked.

Tears blurred her eyes, and she looked away. He nodded.

“You don’t have to tell me – I can see it,” he growled. “Who is it, Mima? Who stole you away from me?”

“Joseph, please—”

“No, Mima, I have to know. Because I’m not going to give up so easy. I’m going to fight to keep what’s mine!”

“Joseph—”

He stood up suddenly, looked up at the ceiling, then down at her. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll find out myself. No matter what I have to do, this isn’t over. Somehow, I’ll make you change your mind, Mima.”

Jemima put her hands over her face and shook her head. “Oh, Joseph, don’t,” she cried, but he had already stalked out. The sounds of his receding footsteps were followed by the crack of a buggy whip, and the sound of his horse’s hooves clattering over the snow.

Jemima turned into the sofa cushions and cried brokenheartedly. After awhile her mother came in softly, took one look, and sat down beside her on the couch. Jemima went wordlessly into her arms.

“So it wasn’t Joseph,” her mother soothed, rocking her back and forth. “My poor girl. Telling a friend you’re not going to marry him is one of the hardest things a woman must do.”

She turned her head and kissed her daughter. “But I know that you did it as kindly as you could, my Mima,” she soothed.

“Oh, Mamm,” Jemima sobbed, “you should have heard him! He wouldn’t accept what I told him! He says he’s not giving up so easy, and he’s going to fight!”

“He’ll come to accept it, Mima,” her mother answered calmly. “He will, eventually. Right now he’s hurt and confused. But when he’s had time, he’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

“I feel so awful,” Jemima sobbed, “like I’ve murdered him somehow. I don’t know how I’m going to do this—”

Jemima gasped, and caught herself just in time. She had been on the brink of saying, I don’t know how I’m going to do this – two more times.

“You’ve been so sought after, Mima,” her mother sighed. “And this is the hard part. But once it’s over, the easy part comes. The joyous time comes, when you can say yes to the boy you love.”

Jemima stared over her mother’s shoulder, wide-eyed. “Will it?” she whispered.

Of course, dear,” her mother soothed.