Chapter 10 #2
Once he and Phoebe were alone again, he expected her to answer his question.
How did she know nothing had changed at home?
Instead she kept her back to him, but she didn’t move farther.
He moved until he was a few inches behind her.
He noticed that the top of her head reached his chin, and he was tempted to put his hands on her shoulders, remembering how much he enjoyed the brief contact in her aunt’s kitchen, even though he was only comforting her.
He kept his hands at his sides instead, leaning forward and saying in a low voice, “I’m trusting that you’ll eventually explain what’s going on. Until then, you and Malachi can stay here as long as you want.” Before she could face him, he left and went back to the dawdi haus .
He didn’t want to hear her protests—or, worse, the news that she was leaving.
He wasn’t ready for that, despite his worries about his job and their relationship, whatever that was at this point.
They needed to talk. He knew that, and she did too.
Yet he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear what she had to say.
While they were in limbo, she was still here. And he’d take that over her leaving.
Two more days had passed since Jalon told her she and Malachi could stay as long as they needed to, two days since he told her he trusted her to eventually explain things.
And she had planned to, yet the timing had never seemed right.
Either he was at work, or she was busy with Malachi, or Karen was around.
She didn’t resent Karen’s presence, but it had kept her and Jalon from spending any time alone.
Which was the point, after all. But if Phoebe was honest with herself, she could have found a time to talk to him.
He seemed to be letting her take the lead on this, and she kept putting it off.
Because as much as she told herself she and Malachi had to leave . .. she didn’t want to.
She and Malachi were happy here. Safe too.
Jalon gave her security she hadn’t known she wanted until she experienced it.
She didn’t have to worry about him flying off the handle or being cruel.
He had a good job, so she didn’t feel as though she and her son were that much of an imposition, and Jalon never remotely hinted they were.
She enjoyed spending time with Karen. Most of all, she looked forward to the evenings when Jalon came home.
He ate her cooking with enthusiasm, which made her happy.
And the way he looked at her sometimes . .. it made her knees wobble.
Still, that didn’t excuse her taking advantage of her situation, and that had to stop.
Last night she promised herself she would talk to him, but after she and Karen finished the dishes, she found Jalon in the living room showing Malachi how to use the yo-yo again.
She watched from a distance as he looped the string over Malachi’s small finger, then helped him with the throwing motion.
Malachi had tried to do it himself several times since Jalon had given him the yo-yo, but he still struggled to make it go back and forth smoothly.
He practiced a couple of times, then handed the yo-yo to Jalon. “I like watching you do it.”
Jalon took the yo-yo, adjusted the finger loop, and started to throw it.
Phoebe marveled at the tricks he could do, and like Malachi she was mesmerized.
Jalon grinned as he did a trick called walking the dog.
He’d been a little sullen when he’d come home from work earlier, but Phoebe chalked that up to him being tired after a long day.
His mood had lightened considerably since then, and now he was chuckling as he threw the yo-yo back and forth in front of Blue, who vacillated between disinterest and trying to catch the yo-yo.
Not wanting to spoil the moment for her son, Jalon, and even the cat, Phoebe went back into the kitchen.
Her purse was hanging on a peg in the mudroom, and she went to get the small pad of paper and a pen she kept in there.
She sat down at the table and started to write a letter that was long overdue.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I’m sorry I haven’t written to you sooner. I’m sure you’ve heard from Aunt Bertha by now. I don’t know what she told you, but I’m also sure it wasn’t good. I’m sorry about that too. I keep making mistakes. But leaving Aunt Bertha’s wasn’t one of them.
She paused, tempted to list Aunt Bertha’s crimes against her and Malachi. But that wouldn’t serve a purpose, other than to tear down her aunt. Having been torn down enough by her, Phoebe didn’t want to imitate that behavior.
Malachi and I are all right. We’re staying with a friend in Birch Creek. His name is Jalon, and he’s a good friend, despite what Aunt Bertha might have said about him.
Phoebe paused. Oh well, she wasn’t perfect. She continued.
Jalon and I have been pen pals for the past few months.
He has a sister named Leanna, and I’m becoming friends with his neighbor, Karen.
I’ve met some very nice people here. Malachi has already made a friend.
His name is Blue and he’s a beautiful Coon cat.
Please don’t worry about us. We’re doing fine. I’ll write soon.
Love,
Phoebe
P.S. Please don’t write back or try to come after me. I can’t come home right now. I’m sorry.
Her parents wouldn’t be happy with such little information.
They definitely wouldn’t be happy to learn she was staying with someone they didn’t know, although she hoped mentioning Leanna and Karen would put them at ease a bit.
They deserved to know exactly what was going on, but she couldn’t tell them.
When Jalon asked her if anything had changed at home, she had been one hundred percent honest. The reason she couldn’t go back home still loomed, and the situation was impossible.
She folded the letter and put it in her purse, planning to mail it on Monday, deciding at the last minute to include the return address.
It didn’t feel right not to let them know where she was.
She just hoped that they would honor her wishes and not contact her until she and Malachi were settled somewhere.
The possibility of that happening occurred to her last night.
She had a cousin in Ashtabula. A third cousin, one she hadn’t seen since she was eight years old.
It was a long shot, but Sylvia was listed in Phoebe’s address book, and maybe she and her family would be willing to take her and Malachi in until she could figure something else out. It would be worth a try.
The next morning was Sunday. Phoebe put the hairpin in her kapp and fastened it to her hair. Her stomach lurched and she put her hand over it. Stop being so nervous. But she couldn’t help it. Soon she would be attending Jalon’s church, and while she craved worship, her knees were knocking together.
“I’m ready, Mamm .”
She turned and saw Malachi standing in the middle of Jalon’s bedroom, wearing his Sunday clothes.
Her mother had made him the small church outfit last year, and it still fit him, although the pants were nearly too short.
“You’re almost ready,” she said, picking up her hairbrush and sitting on the end of Jalon’s bed. “Let’s take care of that hair.”
Malachi put his hands on his head. “I don’t want to brush mei hair.”
“You’re not. I am.”
“Ow!” Malachi yelped. “That hurt.”
“Sorry.” She gentled her movements with the brush, focusing her mind back on her task.
When she finally got his thick hair into some kind of decent shape, she set the brush on the bed.
“Okay, that’s the best I can do. Time to geh downstairs.
We can’t keep Jalon waiting.” Karen had left a few minutes earlier, choosing to ride to church with her sister.
Malachi didn’t say anything. He also didn’t move away from her.
Uh-oh. It was a rare moment when her son’s mouth and body were both still. She peered over his small shoulder so she could look him in the eye. “What’s wrong, Malachi?”
“I don’t want to geh to church.” He looked up at Phoebe. “That makes me bad, doesn’t it?”
Phoebe curled her arm around him and hugged him close. “ Nee. Not wanting to geh to church doesn’t make you bad. But I am wondering why you don’t want to geh .”
“People are mean at church.”
She stiffened. “Sometimes,” she said, unwilling to deny what he’d already experienced at her aunt’s church.
The congregation was small, and everyone knew everyone else.
That meant everyone knew everyone’s business, and while people had been friendly enough to Phoebe and Malachi while they were at church, she hadn’t received too many invitations and no visitors.
Part of it, she was sure, was Aunt Bertha’s doing—quashing Phoebe’s social life seemed high on her agenda.
But she also never had the feeling that she was part of the community, or would even be allowed to.
She could see behind the friendly faces and polite small talk that they didn’t approve of her.
They didn’t know the circumstances of Malachi’s birth, and they didn’t ask.
Not that she would have told anyone. Still, it hurt to know that they simply weren’t interested, in either her or her son.
She turned Malachi in her lap so she could continue to face him. “But people aren’t like that all the time. Remember Grossmammi ’s church? They were nice, weren’t they?”
“ Ya. ” He squirmed a little in her lap. “I wanna geh back home.” Phoebe was about to say something when he added, “But I want to stay here too. I’d miss Blue and Jalon. And Karen. She’s nice.”
“ Ya , she is. But you know we can’t stay here much longer.”
“Because we’re going home?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. But the next place we live will be just as nice as this one.” God willing .
“Will Jalon and Blue come with us?”