The Partnership
JOHN HAD ALREADY been up a full hour by the time the sun broke over the horizon. After milking the cow, he’d entered the still-dark kitchen, brewed a pot of coffee, and then nursed cup after cup of the strong brew, staring at Sarah’s closed bedroom door in the morning’s silence.
As he did, he wondered if she’d arisen. Wondered if she had considered forgiving him.
And then he found himself contemplating why he hadn’t already left.
He hadn’t been able to sleep much the night before. Now that his dark secret had been broken, he was too restless with nervous energy. He was guilt-ridden, too. Never would he forget the way her face had looked when she’d realized the full extent of his lies.
What he had done had been unforgivable. If she never wanted to see him again, he wouldn’t blame her one bit. But still he stayed.
He wanted to believe that he stayed out of concern for Sarah. But inside, he knew that wasn’t the case.
No, he was merely staying for himself. He didn’t want to leave his life with her. It had become too dear to him.
Sarah made an appearance when he was pouring his fifth cup of coffee. She looked as she always did, her clothing neat, her hair carefully twisted and fastened under her kapp. Only her red eyes hinted at their tumultuous night—and the strain he’d put her through.
He ached to ease her. “Sit down, Sarah. I’ll get you some of your coffee and milk.”
A mixture of emotions passed through her face before she replied. “John, I’ll have you know that I drink kaffi in the morning. Not kaffi and milk.”
He couldn’t believe that she was joking with him. “You drink warm milk with a splash of coffee. And then you add enough sugar to make one’s teeth fairly sing.”
She pretended to look mildly affronted. “Surely I don’t add that much.”
“You add enough. Surely a heaping teaspoon.” He grinned as he prepared her coffee just the way she liked it and then handed it to her with a small bow.
“It is hardly worth mentioning.” She took the mug and sipped. Closed her eyes in obvious pleasure, then sipped again.
“Maybe not. Or maybe so,” he quipped, taking care to keep his voice easy and light. Gentle on her frayed nerves. “Maybe it’s because I’ve been surrounded by so many men in my life, but I’ve never seen anything like the sweet, creamy beverage you call coffee. Does it taste okay?”
“It is wunderbaar.”
She looked so pleased with something so small, John felt his heart twist a bit again. He was finding it hard to hide his burgeoning feelings for her.
“I saw a beehive outside. If you want, I’ll try and coax some honey from those bees.”
Alarm filled her blue eyes. “Nee! You might get stung!”
Whether it was masculine pride, or the fact that he could obviously handle something as slight as a bee sting, he chuckled. “I promise, I’ll gladly accept a bee’s sting as a trade for your honey.” But when he noticed her eyes had teared up, he stopped his blustering and crouched in front of her. “What’s really wrong?”
“I’m afraid of bees. Please don’t go near that hive.”
He yearned to reach out and cradle her face in his hands. To press his lips against her cheeks to stop the flow of tears.
“I won’t,” he promised.
“Danke. I . . . I know it’s silly.”
“It’s not silly if it’s important to you.”
After a pause, she said quietly, “Daniel thought my fear was unfounded. He didn’t understand why I wanted to purchase sugar when we had so much honey on the property.”
“If it makes you happy, you should have it.”
Wonder filled her gaze. “You mean that, don’t you?”
He nodded and, realizing he was about to stroke her face, stood up. “It seems like a little enough thing. I would venture to say that every man should be so lucky to have a woman so easy to please. Shoot. I’d give you a cupful of sugar with each cup of coffee if it would make you smile.” Of course, the moment he said those words he ached to take them back. He had no business speaking to her in such a fashion. He was being too personal—and talking as if they were even going to have a future one day.
Luckily, she didn’t seem to take offense. Instead, she gazed at him thoughtfully.
He felt another odd tug around his heart. He wondered how she’d react to him hugging her. Kissing her. But of course the moment the thought crossed his mind, he pushed it away, feeling ashamed of himself. He should be trying hard to ease her worries, not daydreaming about holding her in his arms.
He cleared his throat and forced himself to return to their conversation from the night before. “Sarah, we should probably discuss last night.”
“Jah. We should.”
“Have you changed your mind about me leaving this morning?”
She paused. “Nee.” She set her now-empty coffee cup on the table. “Believe it or not, your indifference to that sugar was one of the first things that made me wonder if you were truly Daniel,” she murmured. “I couldn’t understand why you never cared.”
He ached to tell her that he’d spoken far too lightly of Daniel Ropp the night before. In truth, her husband had been the worst sort of man. He ached to tell her that he couldn’t imagine any other man caring so much about something so little.
But he was the last person to throw stones.
“Well, it turns out that you were exactly right to be suspicious, Sarah. In fact, you could spend all day listing ways that I’ve deceived you,” he admitted. “I’d rather you didn’t do that.”
“And why is that?”
He thought quickly and realized that he was holding on to the hope that she wouldn’t kick him out. He didn’t want to go back to merely subsisting. He didn’t want to leave and once again fend for everything, from food to shelter to even the basic dignity he desired. He didn’t want to be looked at as a source of both pity and derision. As if he should have either survived the war with his whole self intact . . . or had the dignity to die.
But most of all, he didn’t want to leave her.
“Because there’s nothing I can do about the past,” he finally said. “What’s done is done.”
“I agree. I don’t know if it’s possible, but I would enjoy brushing the past away. But is it really that easy?”
“I hope so. I’d like for it to be.”
She still looked uncomfortable. “I am not altogether sure what we should do. Last night, all I wanted was for you to leave the farm. But this morning when I woke up, I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do, either.”
“What do you think changed your mind?”
“You.” She shrugged. “And me, too, perhaps.” Looking restless, she stood up and walked her cup to the container of soapy water. “When I first married Daniel, I had stars in my eyes. I had a young girl’s foolish dreams about what married life was like.” Lowering her gaze, she said, “I soon realized, however, that reality was nothing like that. I tried to talk to my parents about my pain, but my mother told me that I shouldn’t speak of such things.”
“Where are they now?”
She swallowed. “Gone. Scarlet fever ran through our community shortly after Daniel and I wed. Many in our community passed on into heaven then.”
She’d been so alone for so long, John could hardly believe it. Just like him, she’d been surrounded by people, but essentially subsisting alone.
Taking a fortifying breath, John tried to soothe her, to at least let her know that her feelings were valid. That she’d been right to think so much of what happened in her marriage had been so terribly wrong.
“Daniel’s cruelty was never your fault, Sarah. I don’t know what all he made you do, or every terrible thing he subjected you to, but I know in my heart that the problem was his.”
“You sound so sure.”
“You forget; I spent many an hour by his side. I heard how he talked of marriage and his wife. And now I know you, too. He was wrong. He was wrong about so much.”
She rubbed her temple. “Your words are like nothing I’ve ever heard before. They make me confused.”
“I do apologize.”
“John, what I mean to say is that now I am not all that certain about what is right and what is wrong. It was wrong for you to arrive here wrapped in lies. And perhaps it is wrong for me not to cast you out. But I am also starting to wonder if, perhaps, the Lord brought us together for some reason that we can only dare to guess at now.”
John knew how she was feeling. More than once he’d wondered how he’d ended up next to an Amish man in a trench in Pennsylvania—and why that man had felt the need to tell him all his secrets.
He wasn’t ready to share that, though. At this moment, he felt like it was Sarah’s choice. She needed to be in control, not him. “What would you like to do?” he asked softly.
She dipped the cup into water, swirling it gently with her hand. “Wait,” she said after a moment. “I’d like to wait a bit. Wait until the shock of it all has faded. I feel like we need to make the right decisions now. But I am not sure what they are.”
Everything she said was true. He knew, no matter what, he would abide by her decision—even if she told him to pack up his gunnysack and leave within the hour.
But that said, he also knew it was time for him to speak his mind. He sat down next to her. “Sarah, I’ve been up most of the night thinking about this. Thinking about you and me.”
She raised her brows. “And the money jar?”
“Yes.” He couldn’t lie about that. “Sarah, of course that money is yours. Yours and Daniel’s. Since he isn’t here to retrieve it, why don’t I help you find it? I’d be honored to know that I helped you be a little better off.”
“If it’s there . . .”
“It’s there. I’m sure of it.”
“And after you give it to me? Then what would you do?”
He knew what he’d want to do. He would want to stay with her for as long as she’d have him. That, however, was certainly a silly wish. “Whatever you wanted.”
She blinked. “You continue to surprise me.”
“I imagine that you will always think the worst of me. It is no less than I deserve. Sarah, there are no amends I can make for the things I have done. My only excuse is that my actions were made by a desperate man. One who’d learned to beg, borrow, and steal to survive.”
After drying her mug with a rag, she said, “I’ve been thinking about that jar, too. It symbolizes a great many things, John. So many evil things, things that make me uncomfortable. Right now, I’m not sure that I even want to find it.”
“Of course you do,” he replied before she could voice another doubt. “Sarah, I know you know far more about honesty and integrity than I ever could. It’s admirable, and I hold you in esteem for that. But, at the end of the day, not everything in life can be gotten with a good character. Sometimes only money will do. And I promise, one day you are going to need that money.”
“I imagine I will. But I fear it will always feel like a hindrance instead of a gift. He purposely hid it from me. All this time. Did he even care for me, do you suppose?”
John knew that answer. Daniel Ropp had cared about only one person, and that was himself. He’d been a selfish soldier, a vindictive, arrogant friend, and a far worse husband.
Furthermore, Daniel had been blessed with a sweet and lovely wife who’d remained true to him even after his death. She’d been almost shunned by those in her community who firmly believed that her husband had strayed from everything their faith held dear.
Of course, none of what Daniel had done excused John’s own transgressions. He’d taken advantage of the situation and had used it for his own selfish purposes.
His only consolation had been that he’d known what he’d had, and that was nothing. He’d had no home, no sweetheart, no family waiting for him or looking out for him.
“John, tell me the truth.” Her eyes were filled with pain; her voice was thick, husky.
And he knew in that instant that he couldn’t bear to tell her another lie. “No,” he finally said. “I don’t think Daniel cared for you at all.”
She closed her eyes and swallowed. It was easy to see that she was blinking back tears. “Danke for telling me the truth.”
“It was true that Daniel didn’t love you. But he should have,” he said quickly, surprised to hear that his voice sounded just as emotional as hers did. “Daniel was a lucky man, a blessed man, to have a woman like you. It is to his shame that he treated you so dishonorably. Any other man would have treated you far better.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Sarah, even people who do not love each other do not treat one another the way he treated you. It was wrong. Please believe me.”
“I didn’t love him. Part of me feared him. But I have to admit that I did wish things were different.”
“That seems only natural. Marriage is for life. Most people do ache for a partner in life.”
“But you do not.”
“I told you my story last night. I’ve never had the luxury to feel like I could go courting or take on a wife. I had nothing to offer anyone.”
“If you stay here until we find the money jar and then leave, you will still have nothing.”
“No, I will. I’ll finally have something to be proud of.”
“Even more than your war record?”
He thought about that. Thought about how proud he’d been when he’d made the jump from a mere enlisted foot soldier to an officer. Until this moment, that had been the highlight of his life. “Even more than that.”
She stared at him hard, then nodded. “So for now we will look for the money jar together. After that? We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“And if people stop by to see you? To see us? What do you want to tell them?”
“And if anyone stops by we will let them believe that you are my husband, Daniel. For now, that seems to be the best way to go.”
Her words made him so happy. For the first time in days he felt as if he was at peace. “All right, Sarah. If that is your wish.”
“It is. Now step aside so I can make us some breakfast,” she said briskly. “If you’re going to hunt for that jar in the light of day, you’re going to need to eat.”
With a smile, he stepped to the side, out of her way. And grinned to himself when she smiled right back.