ELIZABETH NOTICED FROM her vantage point with the elderly women that Tabby did not sit in her regular lace next to Lett at church service the following morning. She wondered what was wrong between the two girls, then let her thoughts drift back over the morning with an inward sigh.
Fram had been cantankerous, of course, insisting on hotcakes and ham slices even as they were hurrying to get ready for the twice-monthly church service. Today it was being held in the Masts’ barn, and it always took some doing on Tabitha’s part to get Elizabeth situated in the buggy and then at the meeting.
“Fram, really,” Elizabeth had half-scolded. “Tabitha cannot go down to the cellar for root beer in her Sunday dress. Drink milk.”
“It’s all right,” Tabitha had confided by her aenti’s side. “I’ll go.”
Elizabeth had caught her niece’s hand for a moment. “Tabby, are you well this morning? You look tired.”
“No more tired than you.” The child’s glance at her onkel had made Elizabeth smile.
Now, sitting in the airy barn in her wheelchair, Elizabeth smiled again at the subtle reference Tabby had made, though Beth was sure it was not the proper attitude for church. Still, her bruder was enough to drive anyone narrisch, and a little humor might provide some relief to his visit.
Elizabeth looked up as someone took the end seat on the backless bench near her chair. She was surprised to see Ann Yoder, who normally sat frowning on the far side of the older women.
“Why, Ann—it’s a pleasure to see you this morning,” Elizabeth said in a genial voice.
“Hmmm, I suppose so. Tell me, Elizabeth Beiler, why that niece of yours knows my liking for pies, and do you know she’s courting with John Miller?”
Elizabeth blinked and then regained her composure. She was about to answer these pointed remarks when a stray starling flew overhead and unfortunately deposited droppings on Ann’s bonnet, which slid unpleasantly down the side of her frowning face.
“Ach, Ann,” Elizabeth whispered, hastily reaching into her blue church bag for a handkerchief, but Ann Yoder had already risen to her feet in a dignified fashion and brushed past the wheelchair with her speckled white face held high.
“Elizabeth, sei se gut, excuse me. I will geh to the pump outside.”
Beth watched her leave and struggled with a sudden bout of helpless mirth. It takes all kinds to make a world, she thought. Then she forced herself to focus as the service began.
The traditional singing had finished, and Bishop Esch rose to begin to speak on the text for the day. He repeated it, his kind voice carrying over the crowd and soothing Tabitha’s fraught nerves with its calm familiarity.
She hadn’t slept a wink and felt worse than ever when Letty chose a place to sit, far away and amazingly near Barbara Esch. Why have I not gone to Letty’s haus? Told her the truth about everything? Why am I lying to everyone I love just for the sake of Rob Yoder—his very name now unsettles me. Tabitha could also see John nearer the front, his handsome head bare, his profile stern. I have no idea what to even say to him, she thought miserably. And I really need to talk to Rob and tell him that we cannot go on lying like this. Then the bishop’s voice claimed her thoughts once more and she became lost in the wisdom of his words.
“As the psalmist writes, ‘Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings.’” Bishop Esch paused, then gazed out at the community, clasping his hands behind his back and beginning to pace, as he so frequently did when he was speaking at a Sunday meeting. “It’s no doubt a time-honored expression—‘the apple of your eye.’ I’ve heard many of you say it of a first grandchild, a new frau, or someone beloved to you in a special way. Few of you may know that such a saying comes from Gott, and even fewer of you may embrace this characteristic of Derr Herr in the way He yearns for you to do. Many of you have moments when you feel lost, comfortless, and alone—even with the gift of community. But God sees each one of us as the apple of His almighty eye. You are cherished and loved, wherever you are—whatever you’ve done.”
Tabitha drank in the words, then noticed John out of the corner of her eye. His head was bent, his eyes closed, and she wondered what troubled his heart.
John chafed under the bishop’s words, struggling to ignore the question Tabitha had so accurately posed the night before. Do I really believe that I deserve love? Not only from a woman but also from Gott? What if everything that happened with Phoebe really has affected me in ways that I don’t even realize?
But then he pushed away the potentially healing thoughts and crossed his arms over his chest. The three-hour service wound to a slow close, and Matt had to elbow him in the side when it was done. The young men started to get up and head outside for the lavish Sunday meal.
“Daydreaming about someone, big bruder?” Matt asked with a wink.
“Nee.” John’s tone was sour.
“Ya, well, I suppose you don’t have to dream when she’s right here. Hiya, Tabitha.”
John nearly tripped over his own feet as the cheerful crush of community members brought him in a surge right near Tabitha. She was looking beautiful as always in a fresh, light blue dress, but he saw the hesitancy in her smile, her pearly teeth biting anxiously down on her soft lower lip for a moment.
John had to look away.
But the moment steeled his resolve for what he was planning.
“Is everything all right, John?” Tabitha murmured low when Matt had drifted off into the crowd. “You left so suddenly last nacht.”
He looked at her then and nodded, thinking of Rob, of his promise, of the honor involved in friendship, even if a friend makes an unreasonable request. . . watch over her.
“Ya, it’s all right now.” He paused. “Will you talk with me, Tabitha—before we eat? There’s something I have to tell you.”
He saw the flash of worry in her eyes but ignored it; he had to ignore it.
She nodded. “Of course.”
John shouldered a path for them out into the sunshine where women were already hurriedly moving, spreading white table cloths on picnic tables and bringing covered dishes from inside the house. The rich smells of ham and roast beef began to waft in the air along with a myriad of other delicious scents. But John had no appetite today.
He led Tabitha away from the barn and up a small hill. The fields around them still lay bare and muddy under the warming March sunshine.
“What is it, John?” she asked when he didn’t speak.
He fisted his hands and stuffed them in his pants pockets, knowing he’d be tempted to touch her if he didn’t. He faced her then and wet his lips. “Tabitha—I—I’m going away. I’m leaving Paradise.”
“What?” Clear disbelief shone on her face as it drained of color.
He pushed on in haste, wanting to get the words out before she could say something that might stop him.
“My uncle Samuel has a woodworking outfit up in the Allegheny Mountains. He always needs crew, and I think it’ll be a gut experience for me—”
“What have I done?” she asked in confusion.
“Nothing. It’s me. I feel . . . led to move away.”
“But what about Rob and your promise to him—to watch over me?” Her voice rose a fraction, and he swallowed hard.
“You heard the bishop this morning, Tabitha,” he said low, moving closer to her. “Derr Herr will watch over you, for you are surely the apple of His eye.”
She shook her head. “Something’s wrong—you’re not saying what it is.”
“Nee, this will make everything all right. You will see.” He brushed past her and went down the hill without looking back.
Tabitha watched him go and suddenly knew in her heart with a surety what the difference was between being in love and loving someone. She swatted at a stray tear as it slipped down her face and almost laughed at the absurd situation. She’d been in love with Rob, but she now loved John Miller with her whole heart. It took all the spirit and self-possession she had not to run after his broad retreating back and tell him so.