Chapter 6 #2
“When?” Her head flew up, and before she could answer he added, “Was this why you didn’t want me to come here?” His jaw jerked. “I never would have kept writing to you if I’d known you were married.”
“What?” She stilled, her brows pinching together.
“I’m not married.” It hadn’t dawned on her that he would think she was married, but now it made perfect sense.
It also gave her a tiny bit of relief. “Jalon, I’m not married.
I never have been. Malachi is mei sohn , but his father isn’t in his life.
” A chaotic place in her heart suddenly calmed enough that she could ask the question, “Why are you here?”
“It’s been three weeks since yer last letter. When I didn’t hear from you ...” He averted his gaze. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
She had to force herself not to swoon. “I’m okay.” She almost whispered the words, so touched that he would check on her because he hadn’t heard from her in a few weeks.
He took a step back, then ran one hand over his face. Dark, russet-colored whiskers covered his chin and upper lip, and she saw strain at the corners of his brown eyes. “Phoebe, if you didn’t want to write to me anymore, you could have let me know. I would have accepted yer answer.”
“ Mei answer? To what?”
“The question I asked in the last letter I sent you.” He frowned. “The one where I ... oh, forget it.” He picked up his duffle bag. “I see that you’re fine now. I’ll head back to Birch Creek.”
“Jalon, I couldn’t write back.”
“Couldn’t?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Or wouldn’t?”
She took a step toward him. “Whatever you wrote in yer last letter, I never read it. Mei aenti tore it up. She found out we were writing to each other.”
“She didn’t know?” His expression dulled. “You’re full of secrets, aren’t you?”
His words were harsh, and she deserved them. “I—”
The back door opened. “Phoebe!”
Phoebe froze. “Oh nee . Mei aenti ’s home.”
“Tell the bu to get the rest of the shopping bags,” Aunt Bertha yelled from the mudroom.
But Phoebe couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. If her aunt had been upset over Phoebe writing to Jalon, she was going to be furious when she found him here.
“Phoebe!” Her aunt walked into the kitchen. “Why didn’t you answer me? I said tell the bu— ” She stilled, her lips pinching as her darkening gaze landed on Jalon. “ Who is this?”
Struggling to compose herself, Phoebe flinched at the icy glare in Aunt Bertha’s eyes.
By some miracle she found the strength to smile.
“ Aenti Bertha, this is Jalon. He’s the friend I was writing to.
” She held on to the thin hope that reminding her aunt she and Jalon were only friends might help calm her reaction.
But Aunt Bertha’s glasses did nothing to veil the aversion in her eyes. As Phoebe gestured to Jalon, she forced a wider smile that painfully stretched the corners of her mouth. “Jalon, this is mei aenti Bertha.” She sounded as though she was strangling on a feather.
“Hello.” He seemed relaxed, almost casual. Except for the muscle still twitching in his jaw. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “Phoebe’s mentioned you in her letters.”
Aunt Bertha set the bags of groceries she was carrying on the counter. “Phoebe, you should have told me you were having company.”
Phoebe opened her mouth to speak, but Jalon beat her to it. “She didn’t know I was coming for a visit.” He hooked his duffle bag over his shoulder.
“You were planning to stay here ?” Aunt Bertha said as her eyes took in Jalon’s bag. Her eyes grew hot-looking. “Because despite what Phoebe led you to believe, I do not approve of unmarried men and women sleeping under the same roof.”
“ Nee ,” he said, his expression a little bewildered. “I was going to get a room close by.”
“ And ,” Aunt Bertha said, narrowing her gaze at Jalon, “it’s basic good manners to make sure whomever you’re visiting knows of yer arrival ahead of time, so appropriate plans can be made.”
Phoebe cringed as Jalon looked chastised. “You’re right. I should have let Phoebe—and you—know I was coming. It’s just that when I didn’t hear from her I thought something might be wrong.”
Aunt Bertha crossed her arms, looking down her nose at Jalon even though he was more than half a foot taller than her. “As you can see, everything is fine.”
Jalon looked at her. Then he turned to Phoebe. “Is everything fine?”
Phoebe hesitated. She should just say yes. It’s what Aunt Bertha would expect and it would defuse the situation. Then Jalon would be on his way ... and out of her life forever.
But she couldn’t lie to Jalon. Not again, and not after he traveled all the way here because he was worried about her. Because he cared. And even if he walked out that door and she never saw him again, she wouldn’t let the last thing she said to him be a falsehood.
“ Nee ,” she whispered, then swallowed. “Everything isn’t fine.” She looked up at Jalon. “It hasn’t been fine for a long time.”
Jalon pressed his lips together and nodded. “And whose fault is that?”
Aunt Bertha snapped. “You made yer bed. Don’t whine because you don’t want to lie in it. The shame you brought on yerself and yer familye is yer fault.”
“I’m not ashamed of Malachi.” She lifted her chin. Regardless of her decisions, she would not allow her son to be maligned. He didn’t deserve that.
Aunt Bertha leveled her gaze at Phoebe. “You should be.”
“That’s enough,” Jalon said, surprising both women. “You can’t talk to Phoebe that way. I won’t allow it.”
Aunt Bertha clammed up, which didn’t surprise Phoebe. Above everything else, her aunt was a rule follower, and she took the traditional roles of men and women to heart. Jalon had spoken and he had made his position clear.
Yet while Aunt Bertha’s voice was silent, her furious expression wasn’t. She shot a look at Jalon, then at Phoebe before leaving the kitchen. A few moments later footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Phoebe wrung her hands. She also breathed an inward sigh of relief.
No doubt her aunt was going upstairs to cool off.
Then she would come back, pretend nothing had happened, and be the perfect hostess.
Rules and propriety came before everything in her world, and for once Phoebe was glad for it.
“She’s having, uh, a bad morning.” The excuse sounded lame to her own ears, and she could see Jalon wasn’t buying it.
“Does she talk to you like that all the time?” He faced her squarely. “Tell me the truth.”
She was surprised by the protective tone of his voice. “ Ya ,” she whispered, telling him the truth again. “She does.”
His jaw muscle practically pulsed. “She has nee right to say those things.”
That was where Jalon was wrong. If he knew about her past, he would know Aunt Bertha had every right to say the things she did about Phoebe. But not about Malachi.
“If she’s that cruel to you, why don’t you and Malachi leave?”
She swallowed, which was difficult since her mouth felt like it was coated with cotton. “I don’t have a choice,” she admitted.
“Everyone has a choice.”
“Not me.”
His lips thinned before he spoke. “I don’t believe that.” He moved closer to her. “You deserve better, Phoebe.”
Her eyes started to burn with unshed tears. Oh, she wanted to believe him. Yet how could she? She surely didn’t deserve a man who would come to her defense even after she lied to him. Swallowing again, she said, “ Danki for saying that, but I don’t think so.”
“You’re wrong.” His voice lowered, his brown eyes growing warm and soft, touching her deeply.
“You absolutely deserve better.” She shuddered, and his hands covered her shoulders.
Then they moved up and down her arms. The intimate gesture was natural, as if they’d known each other for years instead of meeting in person for the first time under less than ideal circumstances. “Cold?” he asked.
She shook her head, soaking in the concern in his low voice. How long had it been since someone showed her simple, true kindness? It meant everything to her.
Her aunt burst into the room, and they broke apart. She dropped a large suitcase at Phoebe’s feet, the one Phoebe brought when she and Malachi had arrived. “ Yer things.”
Phoebe’s eyes widened in shock. Her aunt wasn’t even bothering to hide her anger now. “ Aenti —”
“I take you and the bu in out of the kindness of mei heart, and this is how you repay me? By bringing men into mei home while I’m gone? By choosing sin and pleasure over godliness?”
Phoebe glanced at Jalon. He looked just as taken aback as Phoebe felt. “I promise, that’s not what I’m doing!” she insisted.
“Stop yer lies! You pulled the wool over yer parents’ eyes, but you won’t do it to me.”
“ Mamm! ” Malachi bounded into the kitchen, covered in snow, his nose and cheeks crimson from the cold. “Can I have some hot chocolate and a cookie now?”
Aunt Bertha looked at him. Water dripped from the snow clumps on his boots, sullying her pristine kitchen floor. She turned her cold gaze to Phoebe. “The proof of yer sin.”
Phoebe started to shake. Jalon moved to stand beside her, but she hardly noticed.
This was the last straw. She would not subject Malachi to this woman anymore.
She took the suitcase in her hand. From the weight of it she could tell her aunt had packed up all her and Malachi’s belongings—more likely thrown them into the case and slammed it shut.
“Malachi,” she said, unable to keep the shocked fury out of her voice, “let’s geh . ”
“But I want hot chocolate.”
She grabbed his hand, got a better grip on the heavy suitcase, and without looking at her aunt or Jalon she went through the mudroom and outside.
It didn’t dawn on her until she’d walked halfway down the driveway that she’d left her coat, bonnet, and boots in the house.
She halted her steps, knowing she’d have to go back and get them.
She was already shaking from the cold as well as anger.
“Why is Aenti so mad?” Malachi asked. “Are we going somewhere? Why aren’t you wearing a coat? You’re always telling me I have to wear mei coat.”
Her temples throbbed and her teeth tapped together as she ignored Malachi’s questions and set down the suitcase.
What was she going to do? Where would they go?
Before she had few options, but now she had none.
She couldn’t look at Malachi, couldn’t let him see the failure and despair she carried. God, what am I going to do?
Then she felt her coat slip over her shoulders, and Jalon’s large hands lightly touching her arms before letting go. She turned and he handed her purse to her. “Can’t let you freeze,” he said, handing her a bonnet as well.
She looked up at him, shame flooding her. “You shouldn’t have had to see that.”
“You shouldn’t have had to geh through it.”
“ Mamm? ” Malachi said in a tiny voice. His fearful voice.
Phoebe crouched down in front of him. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart.
God will take care of us. He always does.
” She truly believed that. But right now she was fighting her doubts.
She had a little money in her purse, and there was a small inn a few miles away.
They could walk there, spend the night, and then she’d figure out what to do.
At least she could get her son out of the cold for a little while, and away from the cruelty of her aunt.
“Where’s the nearest phone?” Jalon asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“Just down the street. Why?”
“You’re coming with me.” Not a question or a suggestion. A statement of fact.
“But—”
He held up his hand. “I’ll call a taxi.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t—”
“You can.” He met her gaze with an intensity that nearly took away her breath. “You’re coming with me to Birch Creek.”
“ Mamm? ”
When she looked at her son, she saw he was trembling, probably more from fear and confusion than the temperature. Either way, they couldn’t stand here in the driveway much longer. Her body was growing numb and she had to make a decision. “All right,” she said to Jalon. “We’ll geh with you.”
He shifted his duffle bag strap so it crossed his body, then took her suitcase. She put her arms in her coat sleeves, tied her bonnet on her head, and fastened her coat buttons before slinging her purse strap over her shoulder. Then she scooped up her son, wishing she had her boots as well.
“Where are we going?” Malachi asked as they headed for the neighbor’s phone shanty.
“We’re taking a trip.” She held him close, unsure how much to explain to him.
“Where?”
“ Mei haus .” Jalon grinned, but there were lines of strain around his mouth.
“Really?” Malachi looked at Phoebe. Unlike her and Jalon, he seemed excited at the news. “We’re leaving here?”
Phoebe nodded, steeling herself for more questions.
“Yay!” Malachi gripped her around the neck. “Let’s geh !” he said to Jalon.
As they walked, Phoebe felt like she was moving in slow motion. Despite Malachi’s positive reaction, her doubts grew. What was she doing, leaving with Jalon? Anywhere was better than Aunt Bertha’s right now, but that didn’t mean she was being wise by leaving with a man she didn’t know.
Wrong. I do know him. The problem is he doesn’t know me. Not the real me, anyway. Although he was getting a pretty good glimpse of her right now. Which made what he was doing for her—more importantly, for her son—even more amazing.
Lord, what do I do now?