Chapter 31 #2
“Have you been to an Englischer funeral before?” he asked.
She nodded. “Michael’s grandmother died.”
“Have his parents reached out to you since his death?”
She shook her head. “Nee. Just his wife.”
He smiled faintly. “That will never be comfortable.”
“Tell me about it.” They shared a smile, and then she nodded down a row of graves. “I think this is the right row.”
When she’d told a gardener the plot number she’d gotten when she’d received her invitation to the funeral through the lawyer, he’d shown her where it was located on the map she’d printed out.
Tabitha turned into the row and counted the grave markers until she stopped at a fresh grave.
It had overturned earth with grass seed spread over it and a gravestone that was neither simple nor decadent.
Michael Alexander Logan
Husband, son, brother, friend.
Gone but not forgotten.
Wasn’t that the truth? He was gone, but the scar he’d left behind still ached. Not because he died, but because he’d caused a great deal of pain. She could pretend it was otherwise, but Gott would know it was a lie in her heart.
Jonas stood back, allowing her some privacy.
Looking down at Michael’s grave, she realized in a rush that he was truly gone.
Being told he’d been killed was completely different from looking down at his resting place.
He’d died young. He was only thirty-one, and like everyone, he’d expected to live into his old age and die peacefully like Old Tom.
But he hadn’t. He’d only had those thirty-one years until his time was up.
“He didn’t expect to meet Gott this soon,” Tabitha said, and she glanced over her shoulder to where Jonas stood. He looked like he was guarding her, somehow, and she didn’t like having him so far away. As if he read the invitation, he stepped up to her side.
“Did he believe in Gott?” he asked, his voice low.
“I don’t know. He had Christian parents. That’s different, isn’t it? You can be raised in a Christian home and still not be a Christian at heart.”
“Hm.” It was a low sound of agreement.
“And the way he lived his life . . . I think he figured he had more time,” she said. “Don’t we all.”
“True,” Jonas murmured.
His sleeve brushed her arm, and Tabitha leaned into his shoulder.
Jonas stilled, becoming that strong place for her to rest. For a couple of minutes they stood in silence together, and the memories of her marriage, her hopes and dreams, washed over her, Jonas’s warm shoulder having a grounding effect.
A few years ago, Michael had been her everything—her husband, her protector, her friend—but he wasn’t any longer.
He’d stopped being her guide in that complicated life beyond the fence.
He’d pulled away and taken another path.
“Maybe it was better I didn’t come to the funeral after all,” she said thoughtfully. “That was a time for the people who were in Michael’s life and loved him. I’m just someone from his past.”
“You are not just anything,” Jonas said.
Tabitha turned in surprise at the intensity in his voice.
“I meant—” she started.
Jonas’s gaze bored into hers, and it was like a curtain had suddenly been raised from between them, and the fire in his eyes raked her over in a sudden explosion of emotion. Her breath caught in her throat, and he shook his head.
“Nee, don’t do that. Don’t diminish yourself because he was a fraction of a man.
You are not measured by him. Do you hear me?
You are not only anything. I don’t care what you were in relation to him.
Think about who you are to everyone else.
You’re a vet and teacher and woman of stature.
You’re a sister, cousin, niece, and daughter.
To those of us who are somehow blessed beyond reason, you are the very best friend anyone could ask for. ”
Her heart skipped a beat, and she waited for him to smile, to joke, to somehow break the moment, but he didn’t waver.
“Jonas . . .”
“You’re the voice in the back of my head that tells me to smarten up when I’m not being serious enough,” he said quietly.
“Did you know that? And when Danny Lapp tells me a joke, the first person I want to tell is you, because when you laugh at something, I feel like I built a barn all by myself. And when I see you coming across a field toward me, I start walking faster. I can’t help it. ”
“Jonas.” He was saying too much. He’d regret this and kick himself for it later. He’d never speak to her again after this. He had another woman waiting.
“When you came back,” he went on, “I didn’t think you’d stay. I thought you’d lick your wounds and head back out to your Englischer freedom. But you took the harder path, and you earned my respect and my friendship and my loyalty. Forget about his. His was worthless. You have mine.”
Tabitha put a hand in the center of his chest. She’d meant to tap him, to remind him that they were here in the middle of a public place, that a funeral service was being preached in a faint murmur not far off.
He put a hand over hers and pressed her fingers into his chest. His warm, sweet gaze sank into hers.
“And that man”—he jutted his chin toward the grave—“never saw you. Not really. Because if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to look away.”
It was like the world around them suddenly evaporated like water off a hot pan, and all that existed was the beating of his heart against her fingertips and the whisper of his breath against her face.
Somehow, they had pulled even closer together, and he touched her cheek tenderly.
His gaze dropped down to her lips, and for a blazing moment, she thought he might close the distance between them.
But then he released a shaky breath and dropped his hand, letting her fingers fall away from his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely.
Her fingers felt cold now, out of his strong grip, and her heart pattered to catch up. Had that been building up inside of Jonas all this time?