A Husband For Mari (The Amish Matchmaker 2) (15 page)

She shook her head. “No. He couldn’t have. That’s not possible.” She looked down at the letter again, hoping that she’d read it wrong.

“Mari, James...I’m so sorry,” Bishop Atlee said, getting to his feet. “If you wish to discuss my decision further, I’ll be at home on Saturday afternoon.”

“There has to be some mistake,” James protested.

“There has been,” the bishop agreed. “And I’m afraid it was Mari who made it. But God is merciful. No one is beyond redemption. And if she truly repents of her rash actions, she can, in time, be forgiven.” He nodded to them both and then walked out of the barn.

James stared at Mari. She could see the heartbreak on his face. “Is it true?” he asked. “Were you baptized?”

She tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. How could he believe such a thing of her?

“I’m asking you, Mari. Say something.”

“You actually think I’d lie to Sara...to you...to everyone about whether or not I was baptized?” She pushed her hands against the table and rose to her feet. “If you think that, you don’t know me well enough to court me. And if you think that—” she choked on her tears “—you’ll never know me well enough to marry me.”

“Mari—”

Ignoring him, she ran to the door. He started after her, but she whirled on him, her face streaked with tears. “I’d believe you,” she cried. “No matter what you told me, I’d believe you.”

“Mari, please—”

“No, James. It’s over between us.”

“We have to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing more to say. I did make mistakes when I was nineteen, and I made another one when I thought we could have a future together. Goodbye, James.” She ran through the darkness toward Sara’s house.

Chapter Fifteen

J
ames ran after Mari to the house, catching up to her at the porch. He asked her again if they could talk, but she refused. She went inside, closing the door behind her.

For a moment he just stood there, stunned. He didn’t know what to do. If he and Mari couldn’t discuss the problem, how could they work it out? He wanted to believe her, but the facts seemed to state otherwise. He wanted to put his arms around her and tell her that he would make everything right—that they would be married as they planned. But he couldn’t let himself be blinded by love. If there was a chance that she had deceived him, it would be difficult to get past it. But to his shame, he had to admit that it wasn’t breaking the
ordnung
that mattered to him as much as whether or not she’d told him an untruth.

James’s sister’s warnings rose in his mind as he walked to the barn. Could Mattie be right about Mari breaking his heart? In his gut, he knew that Mari wasn’t capable of such a ruse. There
had
to be an explanation. But what was it? One of them had to be wrong. Was it Mari, or was it the bishop?

The questions preyed on James’s mind all the way home. He wasn’t ready to give up on Mari and Zachary, but her refusal to talk to him was disturbing. When he put his horse in the barn and went into the house, it was dark. Everyone was asleep. He lit a single propane lamp, took a Bible from a shelf in the living room and sat down at the kitchen table to read.

The familiar words that usually brought him so much peace didn’t answer his questions. He closed the Bible, bowed his head and prayed.

Mattie found him there sometime after midnight. “Brother, you’re up late,” she said as she padded into the kitchen in her fuzzy slippers. Her hair was down around her shoulders, and she was wearing a robe over her long nightdress. “Is something wrong?”

He sighed.

She took a seat across from him. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” She waited, then asked, “Is it to do with Mari?”

He nodded. And when she said nothing, he found himself telling her the whole tale. She didn’t say a word until he finished.

“And Mari insists that she told the truth?” Mattie asked quietly. He nodded. “And you believe her?” He nodded again. She took his hand and squeezed it.

“Mattie, I know you’re against this marriage but...” He could feel his eyes tearing up, and he was embarrassed. “I love her.”

“James, you’re mistaken. I’m
not
against Mari. I’m against anything that would take you away from me, from our family and from our church.” There was no accusation in her voice. This was his Mattie, the person he’d confided in and depended on since he was a child.

“I told you that I would never leave the faith again. If Mari and I marry, we’ll make our home here, our faith will be hers.”

“And she makes you happy?”

“She does.”

“I’ve watched Mari, and despite my concerns, I do believe she loves you. All I want, all I’ve ever wanted, is your happiness. And if it’s Mari who makes you happy, then I’ll accept and love her, too.”

“But this...” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to make of it. Why would her own uncle tell an untruth?”

“Sara believes her to be unbaptized, doesn’t she?”

He nodded. “Yes, but they never went to the same church and this... It would have been a long time ago.” Then he let the question that had troubled him most fall between them. “And if Mari is telling the truth, why did she shut me out? Why was she so angry?” He rested his forehead on one hand. “It makes no sense to me. All I said was ‘Is it true?’ What kind of man wouldn’t ask that question?”

“Maybe asking it caused her to doubt you,” Mattie suggested. Her oval face was soft in the lamplight. “And maybe she was so hurt that she just lashed out like our sweet colt did last summer when he caught his leg in that wire. He was in so much pain that he couldn’t think straight.”

He raised his gaze to hers. “What should I do, Mattie? What would you do?”

“It’s different. I’m a woman. I know what I’d do, but what’s important is what
you
want to do.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “My first impulse is to hire a driver. Go straight to Wisconsin. Find out the truth for myself. Clear Mari’s name.”

She laid her palm on the kitchen table. “Then that’s what you should do. Go first thing in the morning.”

“You don’t think I’m a fool for doing that?”

She chuckled. “I think you’re a fool if you don’t.”

* * *

Mari took another towel from the laundry basket and pinned it on the clothesline. Sheets flapped in the wind as the late-morning sun warmed the air. She loved the smell of freshly washed clothes that had been line-dried, and normally she didn’t mind doing the wash. Today, her heart wasn’t in the familiar chore.

Although it was Saturday morning, a refrigeration problem the previous night had forced the butcher shop to close. She would rather have been at work. Gideon had assured everyone that they would receive their regular pay for the missed hours, but she regretted the forced holiday. When she was working, it was easier to forget that her uncle’s letter had ruined everything between her and James, and that she had only compounded the problem by refusing to discuss the problem with him.

Her first thought had been that James’s failure to believe her meant that he didn’t love her enough, that he didn’t trust her. Her own pride and insecurity had caused an ugly exchange of words—words she hadn’t meant and would give anything to take back.

Thinking about it rationally, James hadn’t accused her of lying to him, he’d simply asked if her uncle’s accusation was true. She couldn’t blame him for that. All she would have had to do was deny it. Her behavior was both immature and hurtful to the man she loved. And now she would pay the price. And she couldn’t blame Bishop Atlee. He was acting as the shepherd of his church. He’d not accused her or rejected her. He’d simply told her that her baptism and wedding would be postponed.

Sara, as always, remained her rock. When she’d spilled out her story to Sara, her friend had sympathized with her and had offered her usual dose of sage advice. “Baptisms aren’t performed in secret,” she exclaimed. “Not even in the wilds of Wisconsin. I’d have heard if you’d been baptized.”

Of course, Sara was right. When a young man or woman pledged his or her life to the faith, the entire community stood witness. Her uncle’s false tale couldn’t hold water, because other members of the church would verify her story. She didn’t know why he had done it. She wouldn’t want to think that he held such animosity against her that he would want to ruin her opportunity to return to the Amish faith and to make a good marriage.

Sara had only shrugged. She would write her own letters, she insisted. She had many contacts in Wisconsin, and she would ask them to confirm Mari’s innocence. “It might take time,” Sara said, “but we’ll straighten this mess out and get you and James back together.”

Mari wasn’t so sure. Five days had now passed without a word from James. She hadn’t seen him and he hadn’t sent word by way of anyone else. It was obvious the life she had dreamed of these past few weeks was over before it ever began. Of course she realized that staying in Seven Poplars didn’t depend on her marrying James or anyone else. Her precious son was happy here, and she was, too. But she’d wanted more. She’d dreamed of being James’s wife, of having children together. Because of her own foolish words, that dream had dissolved. Now he might never allow her to mend the breech between them. And that loss would linger with her the rest of her days.

She reached for another towel, but her basket wasn’t where she thought she’d left it. Puzzled, she looked around, then ducked under the line of wash.

And there stood James, wooden clothespins in his mouth and a damp sheet in his hands. He appeared to be looking for the corner of the sheet, but he’d succeeded only in making a muddle of it.

She laughed. She’d never been so happy to see anyone in her life.

He laughed, and the pins dropped out of his mouth onto the grass. Then he gave her a smile that melted her heart.

“Oh, James.” She tried to find words, but they wouldn’t come. What did come were tears.

He dropped the sheet and took hold of her shoulders. He pulled her close and looked down into her eyes. “It’s all right,” he said. “Stop crying. I can’t stand it when you cry.”

She cried harder, and he cradled her head against his chest. “I thought you were never going to speak to me again,” she managed between gasps and sobs. “I was so wrong to run away from you like that, to say such things. I didn’t mean it, James. I didn’t. I love you so much...and now—”

“Now it’s all right, Mari. Everything’s all right. I went to Wisconsin and brought back proof that you were telling the truth.”

“You went to Wisconsin?” She sniffed. “How?”

“Stop crying and I’ll tell you.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away her tears.

“Why did my uncle tell such lies about me?”

“He’s ill. My guess is that he’s probably suffering from Alzheimer’s. Your aunt says he’s not himself. She says it comes and goes. Some days he gets lost on his own farm and one of his grandchildren has to find him and bring him back.”

“But he said he was the bishop.”

“And he is. No one in the church will take that office from him, but his preachers are understanding. They help him perform his duties. But a neighbor said the mental loss has done nothing good for his temperament. He did you a great wrong, but he needs our prayers more than condemnation.” James took both her hands in his. “Can you do that? Can you have the grace to forgive him? Not just for this, but for all the ways he failed you? He should never have turned his back on you the way he did. To turn you away when you came to him in need. It’s not what we’re taught.”

She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry you had to hear those things.”

“I’m not. But what’s in the past is in the past. Whatever he’s done, it’s not for us to judge him. He will have to face a higher judgment.” James took hold of her chin and raised it tenderly. “Can you pray for him?”

She nodded. Whatever bitterness she’d felt had evaporated with the sight of James’s face. He was right. Who was she to judge anyone? “Can you forgive me?” she asked him.

“There’s nothing to forgive. You were hurting and you reacted.” He took her hand. “I want you to come to Bishop Atlee with me. We’ll tell him the good news.”

Doubt pierced her joy. “Will he believe you? Did you bring letters from anyone else?”

“No letters but something better.” He grinned again. “Caleb. When Mattie told Rebecca that I was going to Wisconsin, she insisted that her husband accompany me. Caleb is one of our preachers. Everyone knows his word is good, and he witnessed the same statements that I did. He spoke with your uncle. We both did. And we could see that he wasn’t behaving rationally.”

“And Caleb will speak for me?”

“He will. He was going home to see Rebecca and the children, and then he’s going straight to the bishop.”

“We have to tell Sara,” Mari said. “She believed me, but we have to share this wonderful news with her.”

He looked down at the sheet on the ground. “Maybe we’d best finish this chore first. I don’t want to be the one who tells Sara that I kept you from hanging out her laundry.”

Mari looked at the wet sheet and then at him. “And what do we do about this?”

“Hang it up and hope for the best,” he ventured.

“You seem to be all thumbs when it comes to hanging wash,” she teased.

He chuckled. “That’s what Mattie says.”

She found a corner of the sheet and passed it to him. “So your sister knows you went to Wisconsin?”

“She knows,” he replied as he retrieved the fallen clothespins. “She’s the one who urged me to go.”

“Then she won’t stand in the way of our courting?”

“No, darling, Mattie won’t stand in our way. It eases my heart that the two women I love best aren’t at odds, but what Mattie wanted would never have made a difference. As much as I care for her, it was never her decision.” He leaned over the clothesline until they were nose to nose and he gazed into her eyes. “You’re the one I intend to marry, if you’ll have me.”

“I will,” she promised. “I will, forever and ever.”

Epilogue

M
ari paused by her kitchen sink to gaze out the open window. It was a beautiful spring day, warm and full of the sweet scents of herbs and the fresh-turned earth of her kitchen garden. Just outside, a Carolina wren whistled a merry tune as it scratched at the base of the bird feeder James and Zachary had built for her the previous fall.

In the meadow, Mari could see Zachary and James heading toward the house, leading a brown-and-white pony hitched to a child’s cart. She needed to get supper on the table; she was running behind because she’d been cooking for the following day’s worship service. But now that Mari had everything ready for the Sabbath, she could take the time to feed her own family properly.

Tomorrow would be their second wedding anniversary, but because it was also a church Sunday, she thought it would be fine with James if they celebrated a day early. It didn’t seem possible that so much time had passed since they’d stood in front of the elders and pledged their lives to each other. It seemed like only yesterday.
I’m happy
, she thought,
happier than I ever would have thought possible
. Life with James fulfilled all her dreams, for her and for Zachary.

The change in her son since they’d come to Seven Poplars was more than she’d hoped for. All he’d needed was a place to belong. And a father to guide him. Now, at eleven, going on twelve, he had not only grown in height and breadth, but in maturity and wisdom. He went willingly to school and kept up a B average, but his first love was being in the woodshop with James. Zachary said that he wanted to be a carpenter, and Mari thought that was a fine ambition. After all, hadn’t Lord Jesus been a carpenter?

The odor of browning biscuits drew her away from the window and her musing, and she grabbed a hot mitt and opened the oven door.

“Something smells good,” James said.

Mari smiled as a warm joy filled her. Would the day ever come that she could see him and not feel a burst of happiness? She hoped not.

“Zach will be in in a minute—he’s putting his pony up.” James came up behind her, slipped an arm around her waist and gently kissed the nape of her neck.

“Behave yourself,” she protested, laughing. “What if Zachary comes in and sees you?”

James chuckled. “And what if he does?”

Laughing, she pushed him away and went to the refrigerator for butter.

“I brought you something,” he said.

Pleased, she turned to see him holding a brimming handful of wildflowers. “Oh.”

“Happy anniversary,” he said.

She blinked back tears and smiled at him. “Beautiful,” she managed. Multicolored blooms cascaded out of the bouquet, prettier than anything a florist could have arranged. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, pulling her against him and kissing her mouth tenderly. “These last two years have been the best of my—” An indignant wail broke through his words, and he released her to turn toward the cradle. “And what’s wrong with you?” he crooned. “Is
Dat
’s little man hungry?”

“I’ll get him,” Mari said.

“Let me.” James crossed to the cradle and scooped up their six-week-old Samuel. “I haven’t gotten to hold him all day. Isn’t that so?” he murmured to the baby. He settled into the rocking chair, shifted Samuel onto his shoulder and began patting the infant’s back.

Samuel let out a loud burp, and both Mari and James laughed. “So that’s all he needed,” Mari said.

“No, all he needed was some
Daddi
time,” James teased.

“Supper ready?” Zachary asked as he came in the door. “I’m really hungry.”

“Wash up and pour iced tea for you and your father,” Mari said.

A few minutes later, Mari lowered her head and closed her eyes for grace.
Thank You for Your many blessings, for this food, for the roof over our heads and for our two healthy sons. Thank You for my good and loving husband
, she prayed silently.
And thank You Lord for making a place for me at Your table.

Mari had no illusions that her future would be free from worries and loss, but with love and faith she also knew in her heart that as a family, they would find a way to make it through. They would strive to serve their community and their faith. And they would be happy forever and ever. Together. Because she was finally home...

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
THE TEXAS RANCHER’S RETURN
by Allie Pleiter.