7. A Ride and a Rift #2
They stood there in the middle of the dark road, wrapped in each other’s arms, while years of silence and misunderstanding finally dissolved into truth.
When John finally pulled back, his eyes were wet with tears. He cupped her face again, his thumbs brushing across her cheekbones with infinite gentleness.
“I want to do this right,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “Court you properly. Speak to your father. Do everything the way it should be done.”
“After the wedding,” Elizabeth said, and her voice was steady now. Certain. “After Hannah and Brian are settled.”
“Jah. After the wedding.” John’s smile faded into something more serious. “But Elizabeth—I need you to know. This isn’t... I’m not just asking to court you to see what comes of it. I already?—”
He stopped. Pressed his thumb against her cheek as if he needed the contact to find his words.
“I don’t know how to say it right. I never had the words.
Eli was the one who had the words.” A short, almost-laugh that sounded like it hurt.
“All I know is I don’t want another day of standing in a room with you and pretending.
I don’t want another supper. Another guder mariye.
Another night with a wall between us.” His voice dropped.
“I want to be her dat. I want to be your husband. I—” He swallowed hard. “Ach, that came out plain.”
“It came out true,” Elizabeth whispered.
“Then jah.” His forehead pressed lightly to hers. “Jah. That’s what I’m asking.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught. “What about Naomi? Will she accept you?”
Something soft crossed his face. “She already reaches for me. Already lights up when she hears my voice. She’s been teaching me to be her dat for months.” His voice went rough. “I just didn’t let myself hope I’d actually get to be.”
The truth of it settled over Elizabeth. Naomi did reach for him. Did light up. Did babble excitedly at the sound of his footsteps on the porch.
Her daughter already loved him.
“I want to be gut to her,” John said quietly. “Want to give her what Eli couldn’t. A dat who stays. Who shows up. Who never, ever leaves.” His voice nearly broke on the last word. “I don’t know if I’ll do it right. I’ll mess it up. But I’ll be there. I promise that.”
Elizabeth’s hand went to her chest, pressing against the ache there. “You already do that. You’ve been doing that since she was born.”
“Then let me keep doing it,” John said. “But as her dat. As your husband. As—” His voice broke. “As part of your family. Really, truly part of it.”
“Jah,” Elizabeth whispered. “Yes.”
John pulled her close again, and this time when they embraced, it felt different. Not desperate or urgent, but settled. Right.
Like coming home.
When they finally stepped apart, John picked up the lantern. He reached for Elizabeth’s hand, and his fingers closed around hers—warm, solid, steady.
“We should get you home,” he said softly. “To Naomi.”
But this time when he said it, everything was different. Not an excuse or a deflection or a way to keep distance between them.
A promise. A future. A life they’d finally be building together.
“Jah,” Elizabeth said, squeezing his hand. “Let’s go home.”
They began walking together, hands clasped, their shadows stretching long in the lantern light. Behind them, far back in the darkness, they could still hear Brian’s voice, a faint murmur of Pennsylvania Dutch as he talked to the injured horse.
They walked in silence for a while, but it was the comfortable silence of understanding. Of everything important already said.
Then John spoke quietly: “I’ll speak to your dat tomorrow. After the wedding. Do this properly.”
“He’ll give his blessing,” Elizabeth said with certainty. “He likes you. He’s always liked you.”
“And Sadie?”
Elizabeth smiled. “Your mamm has been waiting for this. I think she’s been praying for it for months.”
John laughed softly. “She probably has.” He glanced at her, his face serious again. “How long do you want to court? What feels right to you?”
Elizabeth thought about it. About all the proper steps—the courtship period, the announcements, the community’s blessing, the preparations for a wedding.
“Long enough to do it right,” she said. “For Naomi’s sake. For the community. But?—”
“But not too long,” John finished, understanding in his voice.
“Not too long,” Elizabeth agreed.
They walked faster now, purpose in their steps. The lights of the Miller farm were visible ahead, growing closer with each step. Elizabeth could make out the shape of the house, the barn, the Dawdy Haus beyond where Hannah and Brian would live after tomorrow.
Home.
“What if—” Elizabeth hesitated, then forced herself to continue. “What if people talk? About us courting so soon after... everything?”
“Let them talk,” John said simply. “We’ve wasted enough years worrying about what people might think. About being proper and careful and silent. I’m done with silence, Elizabeth. I’m done pretending.”
His hand tightened around hers. “If people want to gossip, they can gossip. But they’ll be watching us build a good life together. Watching us raise Naomi with love. Watching us choose each other every single day.”
Elizabeth felt something loosen in her chest—a tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying.
“You’re right,” she said softly. “We’ve already wasted too much time.”
The farm was close now. So close she could see Sadie standing on the porch, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, watching the road.
She must have been waiting. Must have been worried when they were late.
As they approached, Sadie started down the steps. Then she stopped, her eyes going to their clasped hands.
Understanding dawned on her face—not surprise exactly, but something like relief. Like she’d been waiting for this moment for a very long time.
“Ach Gott, you’re safe,” she called out, her voice thick with emotion.
John and Elizabeth reached the yard, and Sadie’s eyes moved between them, taking in their faces, their joined hands, the way they stood close together.
“Is Naomi—” Elizabeth started.
“Sleeping peacefully,” Sadie assured her quickly. “Fed and changed and content as can be. She went down about an hour ago.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears as she looked between them. “And you two?”
John glanced at Elizabeth, then back at his mother. “We need to talk. After the wedding tomorrow. But Mamm... things are different now.”
Sadie’s face crumpled, tears spilling down her cheeks. She pulled Elizabeth into a fierce hug, then stepped back and swatted John’s arm.
“About time,” she said, her voice shaking. “About time you both stopped being so stubborn and blind.”
Elizabeth laughed through her own tears. “We were pretty stubborn.”
“Terribly stubborn,” Sadie agreed. She wiped at her eyes, then looked at John. “Your dat will want to know you’re safe. And Brian?”
“Taking his time with the horse,” John said. “The animal’s lame, but Brian’s being careful with him. He should be here soon.”
Sadie nodded. Then she looked between them again, and her smile was warm and knowing and full of maternal blessing.
“Go see your bobbli, Elizabeth,” she said gently. “You’ve been gone long enough. And John—go tell your dat about the accident. He’ll want to know everyone’s all right.”
It was a gentle dismissal, giving them space to separate properly. To return to their individual roles before everything changed officially tomorrow.
John squeezed Elizabeth’s hand once more before letting go. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“In the morning,” Elizabeth agreed.
Their eyes held for a long moment—everything between them different now, transformed by truth finally spoken.
Then Elizabeth turned and went inside, her body aching from the accident, her shoulder throbbing, but her heart lighter than it had been in years.
Maybe ever.