On one particularly bad morning-after spending the previous night tossing and turning without hardly more than a few minutes of sleep at a stretch—Robert had timed how long it took him to get ready for his day.
Nineteen minutes.
Yes, it had taken nineteen minutes to shower, get dressed, make his bed, and brew two cups of coffee. Nineteen minutes, and he hadn’t even been hurrying.
That was worrisome.
Usually, he didn’t eat breakfast—there wasn’t much of a point to sit at the table by himself. But that morning, he’d decided to eat after all. After whisking an egg with a bit of water, then adding some chopped-up ham from his leftover dinner, he cooked his eggs. A thick slice of bread, toasted in his oven’s broiler, went on the plate, too.
All of that took ten minutes.
It took another five eating it, and four minutes to wash his plate and set it neatly on the wooden rack next to the sink.
All told, from the moment he’d opened his eyes to the time he walked out the door, he’d been up for thirty-nine minutes.
That was all.
The difference between his mornings now and the way things had been with Grace was very great, indeed. During their first year of marriage, he’d taken to lazing a bit, because she would fuss over him. Every so often, he’d pull her into bed beside him and kiss her, just because he could.
Breakfast had been a time to discuss their day’s plans, and with Grace, everything had importance. He’d used to silently pray for patience as she’d talk to him about her plans to spring clean or to bake cobbler or ponder over the color choices for one of the many quilts she was piecing.
Whenever he finally left the house, it was with the taste of her kisses still on his lips, and the promise that she’d be waiting for him when he’d returned.
Robert figured he’d walked through their first year of marriage with a permanent smile on his face. Yes, things between them had been pleasing.
Now, of course, it all was gone. Now he usually rushed through his morning routine—such that it was—because it hurt too much to compare it to how things used to be.
Perhaps some men could have made adjustments or would have begun to welcome the sheer ease of living alone. But so far, that hadn’t been him.
When she’d gotten sick, things had changed, of course. During her last few weeks, the kitchen had been constantly dirty—he’d had no time to rinse off plates or glasses. His parents had come over often. Many nights, his father stayed by his side. Other relatives silently sat in his front room and prayed. Ladies came, delivered soups and casseroles, and then stayed to clean and tidy the mess.
But he’d hardly done more than acknowledge their presence with a cursory nod. He’d hardly been aware of anything but her weakened state.
After her funeral, more people had stopped over until he’d finally had enough. As gently as he could, he had asked everyone to leave. In exchange, he’d promised to reach out to them again when he was ready. Just as soon as he’d gotten some much needed time and space.
That had been three years ago.
Now he had more time and space than he ever wanted. The home was dark and too quiet. Some rooms were never used. Robert couldn’t recall the last time he’d walked into Grace’s sewing room. The room that he’d built for their kinner.
Ever since Grace had passed on, it felt like he was living in someone else’s house.
Yes, Grace and the love they’d shared had made their house a home.
For the most part, he had come to terms with things. No longer was he claimed by sudden onslaughts of tears that stung his eyes and clogged his throat. No longer did he see her old sewing machine and ache to see her working in front of it.
Or strain to listen for her humming while she mopped the kitchen floor or kneaded bread. Grace, she did so like to hum. And she had never met a tune that she wasn’t able to ruin by twisting it out of sorts.
But this early morning, this Sunday, he felt her loss more than ever. He missed her. Almost just as much, he was growing tired of being alone.
Which, of course, brought his mind back to Lilly Allen. If he sat still long enough, Robert could still recall how she’d felt in his arms. Soft and womanly, and responsive. She’d been full of laughter and happiness, and he’d instinctively known that she’d enjoyed his kisses just as much as he had enjoyed hers.
He supposed a stronger man wouldn’t dwell on such things. A better Christian would only concentrate on their ease of conversation. On the way she made him feel whole again.
But he’d never claimed to be a strong man. No, he was weak and missed the comfort of a woman’s arms. At twenty-four, his brain told him that he wasn’t a terrible person. After all, his married friends often smiled in a way that said that they still enjoyed private times with their wives very much.
Yes, living a life as humbly as possible didn’t offer that much happiness. Not really. There was no comfort in eyeing a future completely alone.
Desperate to get out of his melancholy mood, Robert pulled out his Bible and opened it randomly. Chapter three of Philippians fell open. He thought that was probably fitting. After all, sometimes he did feel like Paul, writing letters to others while imprisoned in a place not of his own choosing. Of course, Paul still had found reason for happiness and joy.
Robert wished he had a little more of the apostle’s heavenly spirit.
He’d just read another two chapters in the Book when Abe and his father appeared at his door. “Robert, we’re glad to find you home!” his father said, all smiles.
“Good morning,” he said as they wandered in and pulled off their overcoats. “I didn’t expect you two to stop by before church. To what do I owe this visit?”
Abe looked at his father warily. “We just happened to have started out a little early for Tim and Clara’s home and thought to pay you a call.”
Happened to be early? That was not likely.
Pay him a call? His father didn’t pay calls. No, something was on their minds. No matter what they said, their visit was especially out of the ordinary. “I see.”
His father cleared his throat. “Nothing wrong with taking time to visit with my son, is there?”
“Of course not. I am always glad for your company.”
“So, you’re alone?”
“Jah.” Sensing the undercurrent of suspicion, he cast a glance his father’s way. “Who else would be here?”
When his father just looked guilty, Abe jumped in. “No one that we know of. I mean, of course, you wouldn’t have a guest here. Most especially not a woman.”
A woman?
And that’s when Robert felt the full reason for their visit. They were worried about Lilly Allen.
They’d come over to lecture. And condemn.
Both the words and the airy way he spoke proved to all three of them that Abe was telling a lie. The fact that his cousin was still dancing around subterfuge grated on Robert’s nerves.
Surely they were all beyond making up such things? But instead of bringing up the obvious—that he knew Abe and his father had paid a call on him for a much different reason than social chatting—Robert went to the kitchen and turned on the faucet. “I’ll make us some fresh coffee.”
“That would be nice. The air is still damp from last night’s rain. Hot coffee would set me to rights. That is, if making it is no trouble,” Daed said.
“Of course it isn’t.” Carefully Robert cleaned out the percolator and added fresh coffee grounds. Within four minutes, fresh dark coffee would begin trickling out.
To his shame, Robert had once timed that, too.
Abe leaned against the counter and watched him with a look of mild interest. “I never have learned how to work one of those things.”
Robert was just irritated enough with his cousin to snap at him. “That’s most likely because Mary is alive and healthy.”
The skin around Abe’s mouth turned white. “You shouldn’t say such things.”
“Why? It’s the truth,” Robert retorted, sick and tired of Abe pretending that nothing had changed when Grace had died.
The simple fact was that everything had changed when Grace died, and there was no circling around the cold, hard facts. When she’d gotten sick, he’d had to get used to doing everything. He’d gotten used to caring for her, and for doing her chores.
Abe still liked to think that a few casseroles and encouraging words had made his life easier.
But nothing was ever that simple—especially not his life without Grace. “I never learned to make coffee until Grace got sick,” he said quietly. “It was only then that I learned to make coffee and cook.”
While Abe shifted uneasily, obviously at a loss for the perfect trite saying to make everything all better, his father took control. “Come sit down, Robert. And look to see what I brought you.” He pushed a sack toward Robert.
As soon as he unfolded the top of the paper sack, the unmistakable scent of fresh bread greeted him. He sniffed appreciatively. “Mom’s been baking, I see.”
“All day and night.”
Robert knew his mother didn’t sleep when she was worried. “Is everything all right at home?”
“It is not,” Abe said quickly. Helping himself at the cabinets, he pulled out three mugs and poured the brewed coffee into each of them. When he joined them at the table, his voice sounded even more judgmental.
“She told me herself that she couldn’t sleep from worrying so much about you.”
Robert sighed. “Word’s gotten around the whole community about you and that Englischer.”
Robert loved his cousin, but he’d had just about enough of his high-handed attitude. Abe had no idea what it was like to lose a wife and to have to keep on living. He’d also had enough of Abe’s girlish penchant for gossip.
“Word’s gotten around, has it? Hmm. I wonder who has been talking?”
“More folks than you might imagine.”
“There’s only one man I’m imagining who has been talking.”
With a sideways look at Abe, his daed murmured, “Robert, we just don’t want you to hurt yourself. To hurt your heart.”
“Thank you for your concern, but my heart’s already been broken. My wife is gone.”
His father winced at Robert’s bitter tone of voice. “I know you’ve been through a rough time, with Grace’s illness and all. But there’s got to be someone nearby who’s a better fit.”
Though the reasonable part of him agreed, Robert was just peeved enough to push his father’s buttons. “Lilly’s pretty nearby, Daed.”
“You know what we’re talking about.” The chair scooted and creaked as Abe shifted restlessly. “I’m telling you, cousin, if you’d just give us a chance, we could introduce you to all kinds of women…”
“I’m not interested.”
“You should be. That girl is not for you.”
Robert flinched at both his cousin’s tone and choice of words. “She’s not exactly a girl.”
“She’s close enough,” Abe proclaimed. “And in addition, she’s got other issues to think about.” He waited a full three seconds before dropping his next bombshell. “Word is out that Lilly Allen is taking Caleb Graber to the city today. She’s going to help him leave. And she’s doing this on a church day, too.”
Robert was shocked by the statement. But he was almost just as shocked by his cousin’s need to make sure Robert knew every bad thing about Lilly.
Warily, he looked at Abe, opposite him at the table, sitting so full of himself with his arms crossed and his expression smug. Was that the kind of man his cousin had become? The type of person to look on others’ misfortunes with glee?
Slowly, he turned to his father. “Daed? Have you been listening to this gossip, too?”
“I can’t help but listen,” he murmured grudgingly. Though it was obvious that his father, too, was a bit startled by Abe’s enthusiasm, he also looked resigned to see the conversation through. “Frank Graber told me about Caleb’s trip himself.”
“Caleb is Frank’s son. And Lilly Allen is their friend and neighbor. Surely what they all are doing is their concern, not ours.”
“I agree with that,” Abe said. “But you are our concern, Robert. And because of that, we need to keep you under our watch.”
“I’m a grown man. I don’t need to be under anyone’s watch.”
Sipping his coffee, Robert’s father glanced over toward Abe. “What Abe is trying to say, is that Lilly Allen, while very beautiful, is not the woman for you. You’re never going to be able to change her.”
“Perhaps she’ll want to change herself?” he added rashly. “Who knows? Perhaps she’ll even consider becoming Plain.”
Abe rolled his eyes. “I seriously doubt that. No Englischer would want to start living with no electricity.”
“Some have done it. Why, there’s a woman in the next county who’s a fine Amish wife and she grew up English.” But even as he said the words, Robert felt full of misgivings. Lilly prided herself on her independence.
“This girl is different, and you know it.”
“Perhaps you could go on a vacation or something, Robert?” his father suggested. “Go on a bus trip out west. Or down to Florida, maybe.”
“You think what I need is a change of scenery?” Robert felt so out of sorts, he thought that his temper was going to burst. “Taking a trip to the beach is not what I need. What I need is…” His voice trailed off as he struggled to put into words all of his wishes and dreams. All of his struggles and hopes.
He wondered how he could ever admit, to the two men who were the closest to him in the world, that what he needed was companionship. A partner. He wanted a relationship…a woman’s smile. The feel of her in his arms when he went to sleep at night and when he awoke in the morning.
He wanted marriage. A marriage with a feel and an identity of its own—not just a mere copy of what he and Grace once had.
And none of the Amish women in his community held his attention like Lilly did.
He knew what he wanted. What he ached for.
As the silence across the three feet of table lengthened and pulled a tension into the air so thick that it could almost be seen, his father leaned forward. “What do you need, son?”
“I need to be happy,” Robert finally said. “I want to be happy again. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes in order to feel that way.”
Abe stood up. “You’re making a mistake,” he said bluntly. “And you’ll rue your impulsive ways when you realize it, too.”
Robert got to his feet as well. “It’s my mistake to make. Abe, I hope you and Mary have a long and prosperous life together. I hope the two of you enjoy each other’s company and find comfort for many years to come.” He sighed, for a moment debating whether to say what was on his mind or to hold his tongue. “But if something does happen to Mary, I promise that I will be by your side. I promise I’ll be there for you…even when I don’t always agree with your decisions. It would have been nice if you could have made such a promise to me.”
Abe’s eyebrows snapped together. “Now, wait a minute. I have been there for you—”
“You’ve been by my side to make sure I stay on the ‘right’ path. You’ve been here to tell me how our people are judging my behavior,” Robert said softly. “But what you don’t realize is that no matter what happens in the future…I will never, ever forget the past.”