didn’t realize Rebecca had been married. Was it someone local?” The man had obviously died. There wasn’t another option in the Amish community.
“No. She met him when she went out to Ohio on a visit.” Daniel’s eyes clouded, as if there were things he didn’t want to say. Maybe he regretted not having courted Rebecca before she went away.
But Daniel had been just as cautious when it came to marriage as his brothers had been. They’d lived through the trauma caused by a broken marriage when their mother left. That had been reason enough to take it slowly.
But now that he’d made the decision, Daniel seemed happy. Contented—that was it. He acted like a person who’d found what he wanted.
“So now you’re going to be an instant daadi to her little boy. Are you sure you’re ready for that?” He said it teasingly, trusting that Daniel still knew him well enough to tell when he was serious or joking.
“Ach, he’s already gone a long way in that direction,” Onkel Zeb said. “Little Lige was hanging on him in chust a day or two. I’m thinking Lige had a place in his heart that needed filling, and Daniel fit just right.”
“I guess it was meant to be, then.”
Apparently that was the right thing to say, because Daniel’s face lit up. “That’s it, for sure. When it’s the real thing, you know it’s meant to be. I’m thankful to the gut Lord to have a woman like Rebecca and a son like Lige.”
Aaron couldn’t help but be impressed. It seemed his brother had done a lot of growing up while he was away. “I wish you happiness, all three of you. Now you can use all the things you learned about raising kinder when you practiced on me.”
He meant it as a joke, but Daniel gave him a serious look in return. “Seems to me I didn’t do that gut a job with you. If I had, you wouldn’t have run off without a word to me about it. I’ve carried the guilt of that ever since.”
For a moment he could only stare at his brother. “That’s foolishness,” he said, wanting to be rid of the uneasy feeling the words gave him. “You couldn’t have known. Anyway, when a boy’s thinking of jumping the fence, he’s not likely to talk to anyone about it. And it wasn’t your responsibility.”
He half expected Onkel Zeb to say something—to agree with him, at least, that it hadn’t been Daniel’s fault that he’d run off. Instead they both just looked at him.
“It was my doing,” he said, his voice sharper than he meant it to be. “No one else was responsible.”
Daniel shook his head. “It was different for Caleb. He had the farm to run. I was the one who was closer to you in age. I should have known. I should have helped you.”
Aaron didn’t want this conversation—didn’t want to know any of it. But he didn’t have a choice. When he’d left, he’d told himself it was his decision. Nothing to do with anyone else. But he’d been wrong. He’d hurt people, and he didn’t see that there was anything he could do to make it right.
* * *
Sally settled into the privacy of her bedroom with Aaron King still on her mind. She glanced around, thinking as she always did how fortunate she was in so many ways.
When she’d expressed her desire to become a teacher, Daadi had insisted on setting up her bedroom accordingly. She had a desk in front of the window with a comfortable chair and a long bookcase that still wasn’t quite big enough for all of her books. The file boxes she used for teaching materials were stacked next to the desk.
Each time she walked into the room, she felt a wave of gratitude toward her father. He hadn’t waited until she’d obtained the job as a teacher. He’d shown the family’s confidence in her even before that happened. Somehow knowing other people believed she could do it had made her believe it, too.
She settled at her desk, trying to focus on her lesson plans for the coming week, but her thoughts kept straying. The arithmetic lesson for her second graders slipped away as she stared out the window and across the road to the King farm. Aaron would be past the initial reactions to his homecoming by now, and she could only pray they’d been everything they should be.
And maybe she ought also to pray about how he’d respond to them. Aaron had always been hard to predict, like a minnow in the creek slipping this way and that, always out of her grasp. Sally smiled at herself, thinking of Aaron’s probable response to being compared to a minnow.
Still, even her brief encounter with him was enough to convince her that the Aaron who’d returned wasn’t the Aaron who’d left. He’d had a quick temper back then, but it had been as quickly gone, leaving sunshine behind it. Now—well, now he looked like a man with a chip on his shoulder, daring someone to knock it off.
Maybe he’d found that attitude necessary in the Englisch world, but it would be very out of place here. He’d have to get used to the give-and-take of Amish family life in order to get along. To say nothing of the sheer noise with so many people in the house—two kinder and a new boppli soon to arrive. If he’d been living a solitary bachelor existence among the Englisch, he’d find this very different.
And the King household was more than usually wound up at the moment, with Daniel’s wedding approaching as fast as Jessie and Caleb’s baby. Some days she thought it was turning into a race to see which would be first. But they’d cope, however it turned out. Everyone from the church would pitch in to help, and as neighbors, they’d expect to be called on.
Sally gave herself a little shake and firmly removed her attention from the house across the road. The upper grades needed some extra map work—she’d been appalled at how much they’d forgotten over the summer vacation. Still, it was always the way, and—
Sally’s pencil dropped to the desk as she swung around. That sound...what was it? A soft cry? She shot from her chair when it came again...a half-choked sob. Elizabeth? Hurrying to the door, Sally rushed into the hall. The door to Ben and Elizabeth’s bedroom was closed, but it couldn’t muffle the noise of Elizabeth’s crying.
Tapping at the door, she called out. “Elizabeth? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
A moment’s silence. “No, I...I’m... It’s nothing. It...” The words dissolved in tears. Her heart twisting, Sally turned the knob, murmured a prayer for help and walked in.
Elizabeth sat on the side of the bed, her apron askew, a pillow from the bed held against her lips as if to muffle her sobs. Horrified, Sally rushed to her, sitting so that she could wrap her arms around Elizabeth.
“Komm, now, tell me. Something is wrong. Let me help you,” she coaxed, keeping her voice soft even as her thoughts tumbled. Should she run to find Ben? This weeping was unheard of for practical, controlling Elizabeth.
“Please, Elizabeth. Tell me why you’re crying. I want to help.”
“I’m not...not crying.” Elizabeth mopped at her eyes ineffectively. “I never cry. I...I just thought for sure I was expecting at last. But I’m not.” Tears overflowed again. “Maybe I never will be.”
“Ach, no, don’t think that.” She patted her sister-in-law, hoping that was the right thing to say. “Surely it will happen for you and Ben.”
Elizabeth turned her face away, and Sally realized she didn’t want anyone to see her like this. But what could she do? She couldn’t just go away and pretend it hadn’t happened. If only Mammi were here. Mammi would know what to say. She felt very young and very useless for all that she was supposed to be a grown woman.
“Maybe...maybe it’s just not time yet,” she said. It sounded stupid to her own ears, but after all, some women did take longer to start a family than others. “Or maybe there’s some little thing wrong that the doctor can fix. Did you talk to a doctor?”
Elizabeth shook her head, wiping the last of the tears away with her fingers like a child would. “I asked the midwife. She wants me to see a doctor—she