Thursday's Bride Read online

  But now Wayne was dead, and Levi had come home. He might defend himself when it came to that buggy accident, but he couldn’t help the guilt that plagued him, either. Hard work was normally good medicine for the soul, but today it didn’t seem to be helping. Levi had known it would be hard to come home again, but he didn’t have much choice. Daet needed help, and Levi was the last son who didn’t have a farm and family of his own to take care of. The responsibility was his.

  Levi cleaned out the remaining stalls and went to the barn sink to wash up. He pushed open the barn door and headed out in the warm afternoon sunlight. He’d spent the day working with his daet, and he’d avoided going in for lunch because he hadn’t been ready to face her yet, but he couldn’t do that again. He wouldn’t just shrink into a corner. If she didn’t like having him around, then maybe she should be the one to avoid him.

  As Levi walked away from the barn and toward the house, he left clean stalls behind him, and calves all fed and napping together in one corner. A job well done. Say what they would about his reputation, his drinking, and his un-Amish ways, but he was a good farmer. And he’d been doing his best these last few months to put his life back together again. He’d stopped the drinking, and he’d started attending some Englisher AA meetings in town to help him stay off the booze. He’d been able to attend those weekly meetings with no one noticing when he was working another man’s farm, but it would be more difficult here at home with his parents watching him. If he wanted to keep it private, that was. It would also be more difficult to find alcohol, though. God worked in mysterious ways.

  Horses grazed in the tender new growth of the west field, and as his eyes ran over the various animals, he spotted a large quarter horse he hadn’t noticed before. It was a huge stallion, with a glossy coat and muscles that rippled as it took a slow step forward toward a lush patch of grass. None of the other horses, even the quarter horses, came anywhere near to this brute’s size, and Levi headed for the fence, eyeing the animal in silent approval.

  Footsteps crunched behind him on the gravel, and he turned to see his daet approaching.

  “Supper’s waiting,” Daet said, coming up beside him.

  “That horse,” Levi said, not to be diverted. “It’s new?”

  “New enough,” Daet replied. “I bought it last summer. That animal is one beautiful waste of horseflesh.”

  “A waste? That brute could pull a wagon by himself!” Levi retorted. “He’d even be worth something for breeding . . .”

  “If he were trainable,” Daet said with a shake of his head. “He’s huge and strong, and too bullheaded to break. Your brother tried for months.”

  “Hmm.” Levi eyed the horse for a few moments longer. “Did you try?”

  “I didn’t bother,” Daet replied. “You know how good your brother was with the horses. If he couldn’t do it—”

  “I want to try,” Levi said.

  Daet pushed his thumbs into the front of his pants and turned. Levi followed, matching his father’s pace as they headed back toward the house.

  “You?” Daet chuckled and shook his head. “Son, that’s one beautiful horse, but the minute anyone comes near it, it goes crazy. It was a complete waste of money. Wayne bought him on a whim from Jacob Eicher just west of here. Jacob said he’d tried and failed to break that horse, and Wayne took it as a challenge. We bought him for almost nothing.”

  “I want to try,” Levi repeated. “I can break him.”

  “I highly doubt it,” Daet said simply. “Don’t waste your time. I’ll sell him soon enough. He might go for horsemeat, but I’ll get some money back.”

  Levi didn’t like the thought of that beautiful creature being destroyed, but he let the subject drop as they headed up the side stairs and took turns kicking the mud off their boots on the boot brush. Then they pushed open the side door and the smell of cooking food met them. His mother’s cooking—he’d missed this. No one cooked quite so well as Miriam Lapp did.

  The sound of the women’s voices filtered out from the kitchen, and Levi glanced toward his father to see him staring at him.

  “What’s wrong, Daet?” he asked.

  “I’m glad you’re back, Son,” Daet said. “I never liked how things brewed between you and your brother. This was always your home, too, you know.”

  “There wasn’t room for the both of us, Daet.”

  “There always was.”

  Mamm and Daet probably didn’t know the worst of it between Wayne and Levi. Still, Levi didn’t want to talk about it, especially not with the reason for all their conflict standing out there in the kitchen.

  “Rosmanda’s not so keen to see me,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  “She’ll be fine.” The words were sharper than Levi found entirely reassuring.

  “She blames me, you know.”

  His father sighed and looked away.

  “You’ll have to mend your ways,” his daet said at last. “There is a community to consider in every choice you make. It isn’t about one man’s feelings. It’s about holding a community together and doing what you must. Wayne knew that.”

  His father turned and stepped into the kitchen, leaving Levi alone in the chill of the mudroom. Wayne had known how to protect appearances to the very last. It seemed that even here, his parents thought Wayne had been the injured party in that mess with Rosmanda, and that stung. Because Wayne had convinced Rosmanda to marry him, that let him off the hook? But some men got a reputation that became almost impossible to shed, like Levi had managed. Nothing he did would fix it. He was a drunkard, a ne’er-do-well. He could be counted on for a good time, but not much more than that. Like that horse out there in the field that stood two hand spans taller than any other. That stallion had backed himself into a corner at some point, too.

  Levi hung his jacket on a peg and headed into the warmth of the kitchen.

  He’d break that horse. Just because his brother had failed at the task didn’t make it impossible. Besides, it might give him some welcome distraction when he was finished with his work for the day. Because he sure wouldn’t be rushing back to the house for some quality time with his sister-in-law. She made him feel things he didn’t want to dredge up again.

  Chapter Two

  Rosmanda eyed the window as dinnertime approached. The men would come in soon enough, and her stomach felt queasy with worry. Of course, the Lapps wanted a relationship with their youngest son. And of course, they’d want him home to help with the farm. She understood it all quite clearly, but it changed her situation here. She was the widow, the one who couldn’t forgive the son they had left. Obviously, his parents had forgiven him, since he was here. And they’d expect her to marry and move on. This winter’s comfortable arrangement that allowed her to grieve was over.

  Dinner that night was pork roast, potatoes, canned carrots from the year before, and an apple crumble for dessert. Rosmanda worked in silence to get the meal on the table.

  “Rosmanda, grab these rolls, would you?” Miriam said, handing a wicker basket over the counter. Rosmanda took it with a tight smile.

  “Are you all right?” Miriam asked.

  “Yah. Of course.” Rosmanda put the rolls next to a large bowl of mashed potatoes just as the side door opened. She could hear the men’s boots on the floor in the mudroom, their voices in low conversation, and then Stephen stepped through the door into the kitchen in sock feet.

  “It smells good,” he said, and glanced over his shoulder. Levi came in behind him. Levi glanced over at Rosmanda, catching her gaze for a moment. He looked away, and hesitated at the table, his hand on the back of a chair.

  “Yes—your seat,” Stephen said. “It’s always been yours.”

  Actually, that seat had been Rosmanda’s, at least after she moved into the house with her husband. She licked her lips. She’d be sitting in Wayne’s seat, then. Maybe it was better that way—she’d rather sit there than have Levi in her late husband’s chair. That would feel worse. Without a word, she pul
led the wooden high chairs to the other side of the table, next to her new seat, and then went to collect her daughters, who were playing with a rattle and a rag doll on the floor beside the staircase.

  “Come along, Susanna,” she murmured, scooping up the first baby. She tied her into the high chair, and Hannah set up a wail from the floor until Rosmanda went back for her, kissing her chubby cheek and settling her into the other high chair.

  It was an awkward meal—different from meals past with her mother- and father-in-law. Stephen talked with Levi about calving, and Miriam interjected here and there to pass her son more food. They had their son with them now, and she could feel those allegiances changing. They had another son to feed, to guide, to dote on. It was all right and good—Rosmanda knew it. She was a mamm herself and could sympathize with how they felt, but it didn’t change her own feelings. When she’d sat in front of her food long enough and the babies had eaten their tiny amount of solid food and played with the rest, Rosmanda brought the babies back to their rag rug to play. Then she started filling the sink to wash dishes.

  “Rosmanda, come sit,” her father-in-law said. “You haven’t had your crumble yet.”

  “I’m just starting the washing up, Daet,” she said. “I’m fine. But thank you.”

  She turned her back on the table, then closed her eyes and exhaled a shaky sigh. From the rug, Hannah and Susanna leaned over to knock the blocks against the hardwood floor where the rug ended and squealed at the sound. Rosmanda loved her girls with all her heart, but she was bone tired tonight.

  Why couldn’t Levi have stayed away just a little bit longer?

  There was good reason why Rosmanda had chosen the stoic Wayne over his brother Levi. She’d only come out to Abundance to stay with her aunt Dina because she’d ruined her chance at a marriage back home in Indiana. Coming to Abundance had been with the shameless goal of finding a husband at the age of twenty-three when she was already considered an old maid and no man in Morinville would have her.

  When she was a stupid sixteen-year-old girl, she listened to the sweet words of an engaged young man. Jonathan Yoder had told her everything she wanted to hear, and she’d believed him. He’d even called off his engagement for her, and she’d thought that she’d won a battle and gained her man. Unfortunately, Jonathan, who swore his fiancée felt like a sister to him, had also gotten his fiancée pregnant, so he got married anyway. It seemed like it would all go away, but word got out about Rosmanda’s attempt to thwart that wedding, and it flew around Morinville. Rosmanda’s image was tarnished beyond repair. Any chance at a marriage had evaporated, and it was her own foolish fault.

  So Rosmanda came here to Abundance to stay with her elderly aunt Dina in one last effort to get married. Levi had been the first man she’d met here in Abundance. He was just like Jonathan in one major way—he made her heart flutter and could raise a blush in her cheeks with only a look. It was easy to fall for a man who made her feel that way, but the last time she’d listened to honeyed words from a dangerous rebel, she’d ended up labeled a hussy, and she wasn’t making that mistake with her fresh start in Pennsylvania. And Levi was definitely a rebel. He wore his hat askew, looked her in the eye, and grinned as brazenly as any Englisher. Even as a newcomer, she’d heard the stories of Levi’s Rumspringa. When Levi’s older brother, Wayne, took her aside and suggested that she marry him instead, she was shocked, but her aunt was the one to calm her down. “Wayne is a good man. He’s not bad-looking, either, is he? Tall and strong. But he’s also serious, where Levi isn’t. He’s the man you need to repair your reputation, Rosmanda. He’s the better choice.” So she’d listened to reason, and she’d chosen the more reasonable husband. And she didn’t regret that choice, even now.

  “Go take care of the babies, dear,” Miriam said, putting a stack of plates on the counter beside her. Rosmanda startled out of her reverie and cast the older woman a wan smile.

  “Thank you.” She pulled her hands from the soapy water and dried them on a towel. It was an escape, and she was grateful for it.

  She went to the carpet where the babies were playing and bent down next to them.

  “Come along, girls. Time for bed.” She always tried to make that sound like a wonderful experience, but it seldom was. With two babies who wanted holding and cuddles, two babies who needed to be fed and put down to sleep, it was Rosmanda’s last, exhausting task for the night. Back when Wayne had been alive, he’d always been part of it—cuddling each of his daughters before he passed them over to Rosmanda to be fed and put into their cribs. Without Wayne, the girls refused to be mollified, as if the sheer strength of their grief could call their father back. They seemed to remember him, still. They hadn’t forgotten.

  At the kitchen table, Levi’s and Stephen’s voices rumbled low. Rosmanda watched them for a moment, noting the similarity in their features. Levi leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table.

  “I can do it,” Levi said.

  “I don’t think you can, and I’m tired of wasting time on it,” Stephen replied. “I need you for other things.”

  “I’ll do it after chores.” Levi leaned back in his chair, but that granite gaze stayed locked on his father’s face.

  “Will you, now? And how long will that take? Your competition with your brother—”

  “This has nothing to do with that!”

  “It has everything to do with it. Wayne was gifted when it came to horse training, and you know it. If you were being rational, you’d see that that horse isn’t trainable. Accept it. I didn’t ask you to come here to be some hero. I asked you come help me run a farm.”

  “If it’s on my free time, I don’t see how you can object to it.” Levi pushed himself to his feet.

  “Levi, eat your crumble,” Miriam said.

  “I’m full, Mamm.”

  Levi headed for the mudroom, and Rosmanda picked up her daughters, one in each arm. It wasn’t her business, this battle of wills between father and son.

  “Did you have fun with the blocks, yah?” She looked down into her babies’ chubby faces, attempting to ignore her father-in-law’s irritated finger tapping. That was the men’s world, and this was hers—motherhood.

  Her daughters were identical, except to Rosmanda. She could tell them apart easily enough. Susanna had a sparkier personality, and she’d get angry faster when things didn’t go her way. If there was a baby to feed first, it was Susanna. But Hannah was cuddlier, and she’d nestle into Rosmanda’s arms and stay there all day if Rosmanda let her.

  Rosmanda accepted two bottles of milk from her mother-in-law, and carried both her babies and the bottles up the stairs to her bedroom. She kicked shut the bedroom door and let out a long sigh. Downstairs, she could make out the soft murmur of her in-laws’ voices, and then the bang as the side door shut. She went to the window and looked down to see Levi marching across the grass toward the horse barn. Levi might be back, but all wasn’t smooth, apparently.

  Rosmanda put her daughters into the middle of the bed. She reached for their nightgowns and fresh cloth diapers. They’d both need a change and a bottle before bed, but this was the start of the process. She missed Wayne most when she was trying to put the girls to bed. He’d had a touch, it seemed. They’d snuggle up on his warm, broad chest and fall right to sleep. With her, it was a bit more of a battle, as if they thought their father was still there somewhere, just refusing to come.

  Rosmanda’s sister, Sadie, had lost a husband, too. Rosmanda had only been about twelve at the time, and she’d seen her sister cry, sniffling into a handkerchief when she thought she was alone. She’d seen Sadie stare mournfully out of windows, and Rosmanda had understood on a surface level that her sister was sad because her husband had died. How little she’d comprehended the depth of that loss. Losing a husband was like losing a limb. A woman had to learn how to function without him, find ways to support herself without that reassuring presence. She faced the looks of pity the other married women cast her way at church or in town,
but they all went home with their husbands at the end of the day.

  Rosmanda fed the girls their bottles, snuggled them, rocked them, and sang them the songs she and Wayne used to hum as they put their daughters to sleep, but the girls wouldn’t sleep, and every time she lay them in their cribs and tried to leave the room, their wails would start anew. They didn’t cry the entire time, but the more tired they got, the closer they came to their final wailing crescendo before they’d slide into exhausted slumber.

  Rosmanda kept her bedroom door firmly shut, but even through the barrier, she heard when her mother-and father-in-law went up to bed. They’d be up long before dawn and they needed to rest, yet with crying infants in the next room, Rosmanda had to wonder if they ever regretted their invitation for her to stay after Wayne’s death.

  No one would sleep until the babies cried themselves out, and Rosmanda paced the bedroom, both babies in her aching arms.

  There was a tap on her door. It would be her mother-in-law offering to help as she always did at this point of the evening. The cleanup and preparation for morning would be done downstairs—Miriam having finished it all alone. Rosmanda wanted to be less of a bother to Miriam and Stephen, but the extra help couldn’t be refused. Hannah laid her downy head down on Rosmanda’s shoulder, breathing in great, shuddering breaths, and Susanna wailed on.

  “Come in,” Rosmanda said, raising her voice over the baby’s cries, and when the door slowly opened, she saw Levi’s face in the doorway.