Ariana rinsed a roasting pan and passed it to Rudy while his aunt’s voice droned on, touting the virtues of women submitting to and obeying the men in their lives. Betsy’s words were honest, and Ariana understood the value, but a little silence would be nice.
Outside Betsy’s kitchen window, the late-afternoon sun glimmered against the snow. Coming here today was supposed to provide a safe haven, a break from all the tension in the Brenneman home, but strain had filled the house from the moment Ariana entered hours ago. Apparently Rudy had misjudged his aunt’s and uncle’s empathy for the position Ariana was in with the ministers.
She tuned out the woman’s preaching and sank into the reprieve of the beauty outside the window. Light refracted off the snow, sparkling with what appeared to be gold and silver. She needed God’s light to reflect off her.
Last Sunday the preachers had railed against her, she’d found the puppy, and then she’d argued with Quill for being so clammed up about his life. The visit from the ministers at Berta’s house had been long and boring, but she wasn’t leaving Berta to deal with the men on her own. Rumors were flying about her, and she hadn’t found the missing money. But she had balanced the café ledgers, and with the loan from Nicholas, she had paid everyone.
What a week it’d been, filled with too many emotions she still didn’t know what to do with. When it was time for Rudy and her to meet with Quill, she hoped her overwrought emotions didn’t spill over on him again.
The aroma from the chocolate-chip cookies Ariana was baking filled the air. Some were for Quill, for the meeting they would have soon. She needed a peace offering. If he never wanted to share a personal thing with her, he had that right. Moreover, she’d been wrong to ask. On the rare occasions that she and Quill would see each other from here forward, she needed to keep her distance, physically and emotionally. Rudy had been very clear about that, and she understood. But if his aunt and uncle knew that some of those cookies were for Quill or that she and Rudy would meet with him, they’d be furious with her and Rudy.
“I just don’t understand you, Ariana.” Betsy sounded as if she was at a counter behind Ariana, probably helping her clean up. “I’ve known you all my life, and even though I feared Quill Schlabach would eventually try to sway your thinking, I always believed you had a good head on your shoulders. But while you were draus in da world, you let him influence you. That’s what the bishop says, and I think—”
“Aenti Betsy.” Rudy’s tone was respectful, but there was no denying he was asking her to stop.
“Well,” Betsy huffed, “I’ll leave you two alone now.” She put something in the fridge and clomped up the stairway.
“Sorry,” Rudy whispered.
Ariana bit back disappointment and managed a nod. If Rudy’s aunt and uncle felt this way, his parents did too, only they lived too far away to complain to her in person.
It seemed so strange to think that a few months ago she would’ve felt the same as Rudy’s aunt toward any girl behaving as Ariana was. But something was wrong inside this community. Maybe it was her. Maybe it wasn’t. Either way, she couldn’t commit to becoming a part of it until she knew.
Rudy held the pan in front of her, between her and the window, clearly aiming to pull her attention back to the room. He rubbed the dry towel over it vigorously. “You do know this dishwashing help is only a dating ritual.” Rudy grinned, staring down at her as he moved in closer. “Right?”
Apparently he wanted to change the subject and lighten the mood. Ariana stared up at him, trying to play along as his eyes bore into hers. “Salome has somewhat informed me of this phenomenon, ya.”
“Big sisters are useful for something after all, I suppose.”
“So you consider it useful that she’s said men only help in the kitchen while dating?”
“Ya, it kept me from having to explain it to you, didn’t it?” The grin on his adorable face did lighten her mood, and it was just playfulness. Emanuel had continued to help Salome with dishes throughout the first few years of marriage, but then his workload became such that dishes just weren’t on his list.
Rudy seemed to be trying to ignore the tension that now filled every house she entered. It was really the only power anyone who cared about her had—to behave as if everything were normal. At least his aunt and uncle had put effort into making small talk during the Sunday lunch. But once the meal was over, his aunt and uncle had shared their opinions, and then he had retired to sit next to the fireplace and read.
“True.” She ran the scrubby back and forth against the last pan. “Would it have been so hard to explain it to me?”
“Maybe.” His dark-brown eyes reflected amusement. “Depends on who I was talking to—the old you or the newer, distracted you.”
“Hey.” She brought her hand out of the dishwater and flicked suds at him. “Watch it.”
He laughed and grabbed her by the wrist. After glancing to the various doorways that led to the kitchen, he pulled her close and put one hand on the small of her back. “Of course, as we both know, you could talk me into helping you with anything. That won’t change after we’re married.”
“Gut. I like that answer.” She played with the collar of his shirt.
“We can make this work, Ari. You can go without a phone until we’re married. I’m going with you to see Quill. It’s a tad of inconvenience in order for you to make things right with the ministers.”
She pulled away and took a sheet of cookies out of the oven, inspecting the color and glossiness. “I didn’t make things wrong with them.” She glanced at him.
Playfulness disappeared from his face, and anger filled his eyes. “It’s been a week, and they are ready for you to commit to the offer. I don’t understand your hesitancy, especially since you turned off your phone and you’re taking me with you to see Quill. Clearly you’re willing to compromise.”
“I did those things for you, for us, not for them. They raked me over the coals in front of everyone, and because of your remarkable peacemaking skills, they’ve agreed to be reasonable. Will there be a public apology? An effort to undo the damage to my reputation? We both know there won’t be.”
“Your reputation will heal on its own once we’re married.”
Tempering a loud sigh, she nodded. He was right, but it wasn’t fair, and she was tired of their marriage being talked about as a way to set everything right. Weddings were meant to be a union created out of love and blessed by God, not an insurance policy that covered cleaning up past messes. Besides, she hadn’t made this mess. The ministers had. She’d handled a few things wrong, and they magnified them beyond reason.
“The bishop dropped by the shop, and I asked if it would help if we married sooner, and he’s considering letting us marry before couples are published.”
Anxiety balled in her chest. “That’s…interesting.”
“I thought so.”
Rudy was ever so agreeable. She knew of no other man who would accompany her on a cold winter night just so she could talk to a man she wasn’t supposed to have any contact with. Still, she wished Rudy would stop using a cattle prod to herd her along. She would get there, but she needed to do it in her own time.
“But I don’t understand the bishop’s rush to extract an agreement from me. The damage to my standing in this community is done. And he did it. Why do I need to hurry up and agree to the terms of peace?”
“So healing can begin.”
She turned. His anger seemed gone again, and she was glad of it. He was weary of the whole ridiculous mess, and his patience was thin, but they both kept trying to be the person the other one needed.
“Why is the bishop so much more agreeable about me when you talk to him?”
“He believes you need a good, strong husband to bring things back into place in your life.”
She began moving cookies from the tray to a cooling rack. A question that had circled in her mind all week returned once again. “If pressure from ministers and husbands was removed, if fear of going to hell was removed, what would life look like for women?”
“You can’t remove the fear of going to hell, Ariana. Only God can do that.”
“But if it was removed—just for the sake of conversation—what would any of us do and think? Do we even know?”
“I’m not sure I’d want to know.”
“Why? We all have traits that are both inspiring and destructive. You think talking honestly would cause us to take a wrong path?”
“How would the answer to your question help you or change anything that’s going on?” Rudy went to a cabinet, pulled out a glass, and held it up, silently asking if she wanted a drink too. She shook her head, and he went to the fridge. “What you have to focus on, Ariana, is not the women. Not answers to questions you shouldn’t ask. Think about the consequences of your response to the ministers. That’s all.”
Ariana melted into a chair.
Rudy poured milk into his glass. “And don’t give any more thought to all you learned while away.”
She rested her cheek against her fist, thinking. While the clock ticked off the minutes, her thoughts tugged in every direction, like a dog walker taking a dozen pups to the park. “I’m just not sure that kind of agreement would be right.”
Rudy sat adjacent to her. “What’s so wrong with giving in, Ariana? I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. I live without a phone because it’s expected of me since I have no business need for one. Not having contact with Quill and Nicholas without someone else being with you? Those are no-brainers. If I lived in Indiana right now, we’d be cutting ice and storing it, because the Amish in our area don’t believe in using propane to cool a refrigerator. We yield to the authority above us—men and women. I do so because it makes no sense to try to build a life somewhere while fighting the authority on every hand.”
“Ya, but—”
“We could say but to a hundred things a day. Submission to our parents and church leaders is the same as submitting to God.”
Ariana’s heart sank. “Rudy.” She put both hands over his. “Something is off,” she whispered and tapped her chest. “I don’t know what exactly, but—”
“Rudy?” Betsy’s footfalls were loud as she hurried down the stairs. “You and Sim can’t put off removing the snow from the roof for one more day.”
His uncle Sim came into the room, a Bible in hand. “What’s going on?”
“I was resting in our bedroom when I heard a deep moaning, the kind I told you I’ve been hearing for a week, and you said it was just normal sounds for winter. This time I followed the noise, which led me to the attic. The beams are moaning, one appears to have fractured, and the roof is sagging.”
Sim put the Bible on the kitchen table. “We were planning to get to it on Thursday, but I’ll take a look.” He went toward the stairway.
“I know it’s Sunday, but I don’t think it can wait until tomorrow. The roof could cave in while we sleep.” Betsy followed him up the stairs.
Rudy turned to Ariana. “She’s not one to exaggerate. Uncle Sim will return, confirming we need to remove the snow today. I need to be the one up there, not Uncle Sim.”
Ariana nodded. “I agree. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Let me get the snow removal started, assuring them I’m doing the task, and then I’ll take you to the campsite to meet Quill. I can finish the job when I get back.”
“Nee. Sim might get on the roof while you’re gone.”
Rudy glanced toward the stairs, and his shoulders slumped. “True. But I don’t want you going without me.”
“If that’s how you feel, I won’t stay to talk.” Ariana opened the Tupperware she’d brought with her and slid cookies into it. “But I need to let him know something. Otherwise he’ll think we were delayed, and he’ll stay there in the cold, waiting for hours.”
“Is that so bad?” Rudy grinned. “Maybe if he gets a little frostbite, it will do me some good.”
“You’re awful. You know that, right?”
“I do. It’s you who have no clue.” He winked and took a bite of a cookie.
“You stay here. Despite the winter wonderland obscuring landmarks, I know how to navigate to that campsite.” She slid the container of cookies and the thermos of coffee into her oversize purse and put it on her shoulder.
“You’re handing him those things and telling him there can’t be any more texting, calls, or visits. Then you’re leaving, right?”
“Ya. I promise.”
He kissed her forehead.
“Listen.” She cradled his face with her hands. “Tie a rope to the chimney and to you, making sure it’s a strong rope, okay?”
He kissed her lips. “I’ll be careful.”
Ariana slid her arms into her coat. “I’ll take your rig since you picked me up.”
“Good thinking. I won’t need it tomorrow, and I’ll get someone to drop me off at your place later this week.” He kissed her cheek. “You make it quick. Don’t let him keep you there with excuses of any kind.”
He had no idea who Quill was. Quill would rush her away the moment she said she couldn’t stay even though she wished they could sit down one last time and talk the way they had at the B&B. But those days were behind them. “Okay.”