The Survivor Read online

After sending a pointed look Abel’s way, Mary folded her hands on the table. “Do you have a not-so-good thing, Jenna?”

  A faint blush appeared on her cheeks. “My dresses are starting to get snug. I’m going to have to see if I can let some of them out.”

  “I can help you with that,” Mary offered kindly.

  John’s heart expanded as he yet again thought about what a wonderfully kind and generous woman Mary was. Here she not only had taken in Jenna, but now she was offering to help her with her alterations.

  Looking briefly at Abel, who was using his fork to spin a lone green bean in circles on his plate, John cleared his throat. “I’ll go next. My not-so-good part was spilling food on your tablecloth, Mary. I hate having to cause you more work.”

  “Cleaning a tablecloth is no trouble.”

  He thought it probably was, but instead of stewing on it, he tried to think of something good to share. Finally, he brought up the little girl who’d stolen his heart. “My good thing is that Katie has agreed to let me take her ice skating next weekend.”

  Abel turned his way. “Do you think it really will be cold enough for them to open the pond?”

  “I think so. We’ve had twelve days below freezing now. That pond isn’t too deep. At least that’s what the rumor mill announced this morning at the Kaffi House.”

  Jenna whistled low. “You’re a brave man, Mr. Weaver, to take that little Katie anywhere. She’s quick to run off.”

  “She is, but I love her,” John said. “That little girl has enough spunk for several people.”

  Mary’s eyes warmed as she looked toward Abel. “Your turn.”

  After darting another glance at Jenna, Abel sat up. “All right. My gut news is hearing about the skating pond. And my not-so-good news is that I failed today’s spelling test.”

  Mary gazed at her son with sadness. “That’s okay, Abel. I know you studied.”

  “Not that it did any good.”

  Jenna leaned forward. “I could help you, if you want.”

  “I don’t see how. No matter how many times I write the words down, I still forget their spelling.” Pure pain entered his features. “I don’t know why I’m so bad at school. I just am.”

  “Now, Abel—”

  “I used to not be a good speller, too,” Jenna said quickly. “I learned tricks to help. It’s worth a try, right? I mean, if you want some help.”

  John noticed that Abel’s shoulders straightened again and silently blessed Jenna. Only a teenage girl would remember how sensitive a teenage boy could be.

  “Sure,” Abel said after a pause. “Danke.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Mary looked as pleased as John had ever seen her when she stood up. “This was such a nice conversation, Jenna and Abel, that I’m giving you both the night off from the dishes.”

  Abel’s eyes widened. “Truly?”

  “Truly.” Her gaze softened on John. Feeling just like a caress. “I mean, you were going to look at my finger, right?”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  “And then you could help me for a bit?”

  “I don’t mind at all,” he murmured.

  Jenna met John’s gaze; then, with a small smile, he walked to Abel’s side. “Why don’t you go show me your words?”

  “Now?”

  “Oh, yes. Now,” she said with a wink John’s way as she ushered Abel out of the room.

  John picked up two plates and followed Mary to the kitchen. “I think that Jenna might end up being a blessing to you,” he said. “She’s sure helping tonight.”

  Mary tilted her head up to look at him. “I think she’s going to be a blessing for me in many ways. I’m sorry that she’s disappointed her family so much, but I can’t help but be grateful for her help and company here.”

  “I’m grateful she’s letting us have some time alone.” He looked at Mary’s hand. “Now, come over here by the overhead light,” he said, motioning to a gas-powered light in the center of the table. “Let’s see just how bad that cut is.”

  “It’s not all that bad . . .”

  He walked over, got a couple of paper towels, and picked up the Band-Aid box she’d left on the counter, too. “If it’s not that bad, this will be quick, then.”

  Looking put upon, she held out her hand to his.

  He stepped closer and carefully peeled the bandage from her finger. As he did so, John was amazed at how soft and creamy-looking her skin was. How did Mary keep her hands so smooth? Most other women he knew had far rougher skin, or at least a few calluses.

  But then he saw the cut, and whistled low. “Mary. This is pretty deep. You should have gone to the hospital.”

  Her eyes widened. “Truly? I didn’t think it was that bad . . .”

  Though it wasn’t swollen, it did look red and angry. When he tilted her hand, she winced. Mindful of her pain, he said, “How about I take you to the hospital now?”

  “Certainly not.”

  She attempted to pull her hand from his, but he held it firm in between his own. “I bet it needs at least three or four stitches,” he protested. “If you don’t get those, it will leave a scar.”

  “I don’t mind a scar.”

  “Mary, I think you’re being silly.” Wondering if she was avoiding the English doctors, he said, “I promise that I’ll stay with you the whole time.”

  “That wouldn’t be necessary. Besides, it’s just a cut.”

  “It’s more than that.”

  “If it gets worse, I’ll go to the doctor. But it’s fine. Now let’s do the dishes.”

  After bandaging back up her finger, he let go of her hand with some reluctance. “All right. But I’m going to wash. You can dry.”

  “Of course I can’t let you do that.”

  Looking over her lovely brown hair, neatly twisted and pinned under her kapp, and the way her dark red dress illuminated the creaminess of her skin, John was sure he’d never seen a prettier woman. Or a woman more stubborn. “Of course you can. Mary, I think you really hurt your hand. As soon as these dishes are done, you’re going to take a break and sit down for a bit.”

  To his amusement, she hid her hand in her skirts. Just as if he couldn’t see it, he wouldn’t remember the cut. “That’s not necessary . . .”

  “But it would be yet another ‘good’ part of my day. Don’t deny me, Mary. I know you fussed all day to prepare this delicious dinner. And it was delicious, in spite of my clumsiness with the beans.”

  “I hardly noticed.”

  He knew she was lying. But he didn’t care. “I’m glad,” he said. “Now, let’s get these dishes done so I can have a few minutes to just sit with you.” Lowering his voice, he said, “That’s why I came over here, you know. I’ve been wanting to spend time with you and catch up. Just the two of us.”

  Her mouth popped into a little Oh, just as if his words shocked her. Then she swallowed. “John, the things you say.”

  Secretly, he thought she hadn’t heard anything yet. More and more, he found himself biding his time with her. Trying to be patient. To not scare her or spook her with too many touches or long looks.

  But he was a grown man, and all this waiting was getting old. There were lots of things to tell her. Things about how pretty he thought her skin was, and how he hated the idea of it getting scarred or damaged. And how he was entranced by her personality. By her sweet manner with Abel.

  And by the sadness that seemed to constantly shroud her. The veil was thin and he could tell that she ached to put her grief behind her.

  All he wanted to do was make her happy.

  Since they were alone, and he was tired of hiding, he reached out and ran his hand down her arm. He felt a tremor from his touch.

  One glance told him that she wasn’t afraid. On the contrary, she was feeling a lot of the same thing
s he did. Encouraged, he linked his fingers through hers and rubbed her knuckle with his thumb.

  With a smile full of whimsy, she turned and faced him. “John, what are you up to?”

  “Nothing. Just trying to get a little closer.”

  An eyebrow arched. “Because?”

  “Because I want to kiss you. Just once.”

  Instead of looking shocked, he was pleased to see true amusement enter her gaze. “Only once?”

  Now it was his turn to feel flustered. Of course he wanted to kiss her more than once. But he would make do with what he said. “Just once right now,” he amended, then leaned close and brushed his lips against her slightly parted ones. Unable to stop himself, he wrapped his arms loosely around her and kissed her again, pleased when she kissed him back.

  Perhaps the whole thing lasted one second.

  Maybe one minute.

  Whatever it was, it was over far too quickly. But it had been nice.

  Being with Mary was nice. Peaceful. Perfect.

  With reluctance, he stepped away and rolled up his sleeves. He squirted some dish soap into the sink and started the faucet. “Mary, please go fetch me some dishes, if you would.”

  After a pause, she answered. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, scurrying from the room, making John think that this was just about the sweetest moment he’d had in a terribly long time.

  Chapter Eight

  Just yesterday, they’d been treated to a newly fallen snow. Now a good foot of fresh white powder covered the whole area, making the path that Mattie often walked between her farm and the Weavers’ look like a secret passageway.

  The ground crunched under her feet as she forged a path, and she enjoyed seeing how her footprints were the only ones mixing in with the deer and raccoon tracks. Every once in a while, she saw a sleepy squirrel scamper among the pines, the only bright green dotting the landscape. All the rest of the elms, maples, and oaks were bare. Their dark silhouettes surrounded the path like protective arms shielding her from outside elements.

  At least, that was always how she’d come to think of them. The trees had been figures she could count on. Things she could see. For a time, they’d been far easier to depend on than the mythical being of their Lord.

  A deep sadness and a sense of loss filled her as she recalled how empty she’d felt when she’d been in the middle of her chemotherapy treatments. For a time, she’d felt completely alone in her pain. Not even Lucy’s careful considerations had alleviated Mattie’s feeling of dark isolation.

  Yes, for a few terrible months, she’d thought she was not only going to lose her life to cancer, but her faith, too.

  And then something changed. Maybe it was finally coming to realize just how difficult Lucy’s life had been before her husband’s death. The reality of her friend’s pain and layers of protectiveness that she wore like a suit of armor to protect herself from further pain had been eye opening, for sure. Little by little, Lucy’s complete faith had inspired Mattie.

  After all, Lucy firmly believed that the Lord had held her hand during all her trials. That though she’d lived through two years of abuse and pain, she would have suffered through so much more if she’d had to survive alone.

  So Mattie had opened her heart. The experience Loyal had with Ella in the fall had only cemented Mattie’s faith. Surely God had been present when Ella had been in the buggy accident, held hostage by her former “best” friend. Perhaps He was always with them . . . even when things weren’t wonderful.

  “Mattie, how long are you going to be staring at those bare trees?”

  Startled, she turned from her contemplation of the trees to the one man who she knew she could always depend on. “Not much longer,” she replied with a smile. “They were keeping me company until you got here.”

  The wide brim of his felt hat shielded his eyes as he approached, making it difficult to see his expression. But though she couldn’t quite make out his smile, she listened for the usual teasing lilt in his tone.

  When he paused, she was afraid it would be absent as well. “How goes it with you today?”

  “About the same,” Graham replied.

  She hurried to his side. “What is wrong?”

  “You know. I’m practically suffocating under the community’s scorn about Jenna.”

  “Perhaps you should speak to Jenna again,” she said gently. “Perhaps she’ll be able to explain things?”

  “If I thought it would make me feel better, I would. But I’m still so mad at her, I don’t think I’d listen to anything she had to say.” Reaching out, he picked up a dead branch and snapped it in two. “Do you think she’d even have anything to say?”

  “I don’t know.” Clearing her throat, she said, “Graham, don’t be so down. The gossips will move on soon. They always do.”

  “Not this time, I fear.” After staring out at the snow for another moment, Graham rubbed his chin. “Let’s talk about something else. Anything else.”

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Well, um . . . you saw William the other night, didn’t you?”

  “I did.”

  A muscle in his jaw tightened. “Did you enjoy your time with him?”

  Remembering their awkward conversation, followed by the awkward way in which they left things, she shrugged. “It’s hard to say.”

  “Why?”

  “It was different, walking with him,” she tried to explain but knew she wasn’t being completely truthful. It had been different because William wasn’t Graham. “But perhaps just because it was new.”

  “You don’t have to rush into anything with him, you know.”

  “I’m not rushing.” Heaven knew she’d been alone for a long time.

  Graham’s sour mood and snippy behavior was turning her mood, too. Plus she was getting cold, simply standing next to the trees with him. “Where should we go? Do you want to go to your house? Or would you rather go to my home?”

  He hesitated. “I’d rather not go to either, if you don’t mind.” Looking at her mittens, he said, “If we continue to walk, will you be warm enough?”

  Now the cold permeated her heart instead of only her bones and muscles. “I will be fine.”

  “Let’s go this way, then, toward Ella’s property.”

  He pointed to a small, thin trail that snaked in between the two oldest oaks. Obediently, Mattie started following him. Because his posture was so stiff, she let him take the lead, choosing to stay a good two paces behind him for a bit. As she watched his forceful steps, not even trying to place her own black boots in his footprints, she began to worry. “Graham, things will get better.”

  “They’d have to, because they’re pretty bad right now.”

  Trying to imagine what would have brought Jenna to tell such lies, Mattie frowned. “Poor Jenna.”

  He turned back his head to glare at her. “Poor Jenna? What about me?”

  “You, Graham, are the innocent here. You have nothing to prove. And besides, even if you did, uh, have sex with her, people would shake their heads at you, call you too impatient . . . but your reputation wouldn’t be ruined.”

  “But hers is.”

  “We both know it is. And we both know you’re not surprised to hear that. I always thought it was something terrible, that the woman carries the baby and all the shame, whereas the strong man can escape that burden.”

  “She’s tried her best to saddle me with it, Mattie.”

  She caught the first glimpse of doubt in his voice. “But?”

  “But now I hear what you are saying.” After a beat, he said, “It would be a difficult thing, to be thrown out of a home.”

  “Her parents never were ones to see anything in shades of gray.”

  “For this, they probably shouldn’t. After all, she’s pregnant out of wedlock and a liar. The babe isn�
��t mine.”

  “I know. Of course it isn’t.”

  Reaching out, he squeezed her hand. “Danke, Mattie.”

  “For what? For believing in you?”

  “Of course. I’ve been needing your belief. I’ve needed someone to believe in me.”

  “Well, you definitely have that.”

  Ahead of them, the outline of Ella’s farmhouse and barn loomed bright. Surrounding the buildings were neatly pruned holly bushes and trees. “What do you want to do, Graham? Visit Ella and Loyal or turn back around?”

  “Perhaps we should go see them?”

  She was glad he said that. She loved Ella and Loyal and knew Graham felt the same way. Plus, though they’d been walking at a fairly quick pace, her nose was freezing. “I hope Ella has a kettle on. Some hot tea would taste gut now.”

  “Let’s go then. We’ll see what they’re up to this afternoon.”

  Mattie smiled at him, glad he looked more relaxed. Glad some of the awful tension had eased from his body.

  And because she was glad of that, she kept her last question to herself.

  If Graham was not the father of Jenna’s baby . . . who was?

  And why was Jenna so afraid to tell that man’s name?

  The dirt path widened a bit, making it easier for the two of them to walk side by side. Little by little, he eased her fingers down his arm, finally curving them securely around his palm. Though both their hands were covered in wool, Mattie slowly felt their body heat combine. Warming each other.

  Chapter Nine

  “So I heard you’ve got a heap of trouble on your shoulders,” Uncle John said when Graham entered the Kaffi Haus early on Tuesday morning.

  Inwardly, Graham slumped. Though he’d figured it wasn’t likely, he’d hoped there was still a chance that word of his problems hadn’t reached his uncle’s ears. Though he was very different from his father, Graham respected John’s opinion and didn’t want to do anything to damage it.

  And he’d hoped to push his problems away and pretend they didn’t exist for a while, but he steeled his shoulders and prepared himself for the worst. “Uncle John, what have you heard?”