New Beginnings at Promise Lodge Page 14

  Marlin thought he might be experiencing double vision, because Barbara and Bernice Helmuth were smiling at him with identical dimples, freckled faces, and brown hair tucked under their white kapps. Because his daughter-in-law—the midwife—had given him some clues, however, he could tell the twins apart.

  “Barbara, I appreciate your support,” he said to the young woman who was somewhat larger because she was carrying twins. “That goes for you, too, Bernice, and I wish you both all the joy and excitement of having your first children. The day Harley was born was a game-changer. When Fannie and Lowell came along, they each made my world spin in a different direction, too.”

  “We’re getting pretty excited,” Bernice admitted as she grasped her sister’s hand. “By this time next month, we’ll probably be holding our babies.”

  “Jah, and we’re mighty glad you brought Minerva to Missouri with you,” Barbara put in. “Now we can have home deliveries, rather than having to go to the hospital amongst strangers. It means a lot.”

  By the time he’d eaten a quick meal, Marlin had heard encouraging words from nearly everyone in the crowd—except for Harley, Lester, and Gloria, of course. Even if folks hadn’t been happy for him and Frances, he would’ve felt right about expressing his feelings for her publicly. He sensed that several knowing gazes were following him as he walked down the hill toward the Lehman place, which was all the more reason to speak with Frances on this fine, sunny day—before anyone else did.

  No more sneaking around like thieves in the night, he thought with a chuckle. But after Frances is feeling better, we need to take that moonlight ride we missed.

  As he approached her house, he was pleased to see Frances sitting on the front porch with Mary Kate. He waved—and then realized she was unable to wave back. Marlin jogged across the front yard, energized by the way she watched him. “How are you today, Frances?” he called out as he went up the walk to the house.

  “I think I’ll survive!” she replied pertly. “I’ve got two of the best nurses in the business.”

  “I can see that. Hello, Mary Kate,” he said as he smiled at Frances’s daughter. He grinned at the sturdy little boy who was lying on a blanket on the porch floor. “David, you’re growing like a weed, son. What are you, about three now?” he teased.

  David let out a hoot and wiggled all over as he gripped Marlin’s finger.

  “He was five months as of last week,” Frances replied proudly.

  On an impulse, Marlin sat down on the porch floor and lifted the little guy into his lap. When two blue eyes focused on him, he felt a ping, like Cupid’s arrow hitting his heart. If he and Frances were wed, David would be his grandson . . . his first grandchild—because even if Minerva and Harley announced they were expecting, Marlin sensed he and Frances would be married before their baby was born.

  All the more reason to state your case, the voice in his head insisted. What’ve you got to lose?

  Everything, if she won’t marry me, a strident voice from his heart replied. So don’t mess up. And don’t rush her.

  “I just finished Mamm’s ice treatment. Now David’s ready for his dinner and maybe a nap,” Mary Kate said, drawing Marlin from his thoughts. “I’m pretty sure Mamm’s ready for some conversation other than mine, too, as I’ve run out of gossip.”

  Marlin laughed, grateful that Frances’s daughter was giving them some time to catch up with each other. After Mary Kate took David inside, he stood up and gazed out into the yard to gather his thoughts. “The rosebushes look like they’re doing well,” he remarked.

  “Roman’s watering them until I’m able—and they’re in the perfect spot where I can enjoy them from the swing. Denki for bringing them, Marlin.” Frances raised her eyebrows and lowered her voice. “Now come sit by me while we have a few minutes!”

  Marlin wanted to cheer—wanted to hug her exuberantly—but he refrained from doing anything that might hurt her arms. He eased onto the swing, grinning like a kid with his first girlfriend. “Feeling better?”

  “You’re gut medicine,” Frances replied. “How was church? I hope I’ll be able to go in two weeks when we worship next.”

  Marlin pondered her question. Should he tell her about Gloria’s outburst—and Lester’s?

  Why ruin Frances’s fine mood? Stick with the news that makes a positive difference.

  To put his words into proper context, he would need to mention that Gloria had started an avalanche of accusations when she’d called out Phoebe and Allen—but who knew how much time he had before Mary Kate came back? Marlin held Frances’s gaze as he carefully slipped his arm along the back of the swing behind her. It felt good to sit so close to her as the swing rocked with a comforting creak of its chain.

  “I may have spoken out of turn—and too soon,” Marlin began softly. “When Monroe asked if anyone had announcements, and Gloria started an onslaught of remarks by demanding a public confession from Allen and Phoebe, I referred to you and me as a courting couple.”

  Marlin watched Frances’s eyes widen. Were her lips twitching to keep her from bursting into a smile, or was she trying not to cry?

  He cleared his throat. “Considering how we’ve not even gone on our first date, I may have put the cart before the horse, so I wanted you to hear it from me before anyone else broke the news,” he explained. “I don’t want to be like Lester and force my feelings—or my presence—on you, Frances.”

  When she looked away, a smile was tugging at her lips. “Marlin, you couldn’t be like Lester if you tried—or at least not like Lester as he’s behaving now, which is so unlike the man we knew before he lost his wife,” she added sadly. Her sudden smile was like sunshine bursting through rain clouds. “So we’re courting, are we? What did folks say about that?”

  “What do you say about it?” Marlin fired back. “I suppose no is one of the potential answers.”

  Frances didn’t waver. “But yes would open up a whole new world for us, wouldn’t it?” she asked softly. “Yes—to the courting part, anyway. If things work out between us, though, you’ll have to ask me all those other big questions up front and proper before you tell everyone else what comes next.”

  Marlin laughed out loud, and when Frances joined him he felt ten feet tall. “We may have to do something about your sassy mouth, Miss Frances,” he teased her. And then the sight of her mouth made him go very still.

  He swallowed hard. Was it unfair to kiss her when she couldn’t push him away or put her arms around him? Marlin leaned toward her, unable to breathe—unable to think of anything except the need for a kiss that made his lips burn before they even touched hers.

  When Frances closed her eyes, she wasn’t submitting to him. She was saying yes in yet another important way that made Marlin realize she was different from any other woman he’d ever met. When she’d been Bishop Floyd’s wife, Frances had given no hint of how funny and direct she could be—or how refreshing.

  But she wasn’t another man’s wife now. And she was letting him court her . . . letting him kiss her, so softly and sweetly that he lost all sense of time and place.

  “Oh my,” Marlin murmured when they eased apart. “Now we’ve gone and started something.”

  “Jah, we have,” Frances agreed. “My hands are itching to hold yours.”

  Yearning—and sympathy—shot through him as he looked at her wrapped arms in their slings. “I—I want to hold you, but I’m afraid I’ll hurt you,” he admitted.

  “Well, we have that to look forward to, ain’t so?” she asked with a little laugh. “As tingly as I feel, that must surely mean that my circulation’s improved and that I’ll be healing faster, don’t you think?”

  Marlin kissed her again. “I like the sound of that.”

  For several moments they sat contentedly in the swing, swaying forward and back in companionable silence. Marlin couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt so exhilarated and energized, ready to take on a new relationship and everything it might bring along with it. It was com
pletely different, marrying for the second time, because—as he and Frances were both finding out—they had children to consider, and two households, and memories from their first marriages that might affect their expectations.

  “What did Gloria say about Allen and Phoebe?” Frances asked softly. “Did she make gut on her promise to tell the bishop she saw them kissing?”

  “Jah, and she demanded that they confess before the congregation. Allen and Phoebe fired right back, saying she’d spied on them—and that Gloria had tossed her shawl on the stairs or you wouldn’t have slipped on it,” Marlin recounted cautiously. “Then Lester claimed you wouldn’t have fallen if Monroe and we preachers had allowed him to take care of you, because you wouldn’t have been sneaking down the stairs in the dark to be with me. It was turning into a circus until the bishop called a halt and requested a private chat with Lester and Gloria.”

  “Oh my,” Frances said with a sigh. “Maybe it’s best I wasn’t there today.”

  “You’re probably right. I’m hoping now that Gloria’s aired her grievance, she’ll let it go,” he put in matter-of-factly. “Although I suppose I’d see it differently if I were Gloria—or Lester.”

  Frances gazed into the distance, shaking her head. “If only some nice young man would take a fancy to her—and if only she’d know when to quit making a pest of herself,” she murmured. “I—I don’t know how to help her. She doesn’t listen to anything I suggest.”

  “That’s how it works for most folks her age,” Marlin pointed out. “Young people think their parents can’t possibly understand their trials and tribulations—or else they feel we’re hopelessly out of touch with reality.”

  He considered his next thoughts, and then expressed them. “For Harley’s part, he thinks I’m being selfish—sweeping his mother’s memory under the rug to the point of betraying her. He has no idea how much I miss Essie every day, or how I’ve controlled my grieving so as not to burden him with it.”

  Frances nodded. “As the parent, you feel you need to be strong.”

  “And how are you doing with that part?” Marlin asked. “Your emotions are still pretty raw, only a couple of months beyond Floyd’s passing.”

  Frances gazed toward the rosebushes in the yard. “When I . . . when I went to the cemetery last week,” she began softly, “I got the feeling that Floyd’s spirit was no longer there because I no longer needed him to be there for me. But instead of feeling like he’d abandoned me, I felt at peace—as though he’d moved on, so I should, too. Does that make any sense?”

  Marlin considered her response as a preacher and a counselor, rather than as a man come courting. “It took me a long time to reach that point after Essie passed, maybe because her death was sudden and unexpected,” he replied. “Everybody’s different. Grief can be like a boomerang—when you think you’ve tossed it off and you’re doing fine, it comes flying back at you.”

  “It does,” Frances agreed. “I knew Floyd was failing after his fall with Amos, so I had a chance to prepare myself, I suppose. My I ask how your Essie died?”

  Her question caused such an unexpected welling up of sadness, Marlin had to wait a moment for it to pass. “She went in her sleep. I woke up late that morning and realized something was terribly wrong when she didn’t open her eyes,” he replied with a hitch in his voice. “When the doctor offered to do an autopsy, I didn’t see the point of cutting her open because it wouldn’t bring her back—and we believe God has His reasons for calling folks home.”

  “Jah, He does. I’m sorry for your loss, Marlin,” Frances murmured. “Denki for answering my painful question.”

  I’m sorry for your loss. It was the customary remark folks made when they didn’t know what else to say, yet coming from Frances, the words sounded compassionate and sincere—perhaps because she knew about such a loss herself. When Marlin sighed, her sigh mingled with his as though their thoughts and feelings were already in sync.

  Once again he knew he loved this woman, for reasons that probably wouldn’t make sense to anyone but himself.

  When has love ever made any sense? Is there a rule book—a checklist—you’re supposed to follow?

  The voice in his head made him smile and want to change to a lighter topic of conversation—although dipping into a soul’s darkness, walking through the valley of the shadow, was a necessary part of coming into the light again. “I’m glad we can talk this way, Frances. I don’t want to rush you into this courtship thing,” Marlin said softly, “so I’m depending on you to tell me if I go too fast.”

  Her face lit up with mischief. “What’s the point of the rides at the amusement park if you don’t go fast?” she teased him. “It’s gut to stretch beyond your comfort zone from time to time, ain’t so?”

  “I love you—for saying that,” he blurted, as though qualifying the statement excused his outburst. “And here I go, racing ahead when I’ve said I’d give you time—”

  “Ah, but the best words—the true words—usually come flying out because our heart knows things that our mind hasn’t yet caught up to.” Frances held his gaze with eyes as warm and dark as melted chocolate. “Maybe your family should come over and have dinner with mine, to give everybody a taste of what it’ll mean to blend together. That way, we’re right out in the open where all the kids can see us,” she added in a knowing tone.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather come to our place, since you can’t be in the kitchen—”

  “No,” she interrupted with a purposeful shake of her head. “I’m more comfortable here at home, considering I may need to slip away for an ice treatment while you’re all here. Mary Kate’s perfectly capable of fixing the dishes we’ve always liked best—and how about if Minerva brings a few things that you folks enjoy?” she asked with a lift in her voice. “It’ll be a potluck, of sorts. Nobody has to do all the cooking, and everyone will have familiar food on the table.”

  The screen door swung open and Mary Kate winked at them. “I think that’s a fine idea, Mamm,” she said. “I’ve put David down for his nap, so how about if we talk about our family get-together while I give you your next ice treatment?”

  Marlin laughed, grateful that Frances’s daughter had overheard them with such an open mind. “Maybe I should leave, so you won’t feel odd with me looking on—”

  “Stay right where you are,” Frances insisted. “It’s easier if I sit in the wicker chair, so its arms can support me. If you keep talking to me, my ten-minute treatment will seem a lot shorter. The clock stops when my arms are bundled up in towels and ice packs.”

  It did Marlin good to watch Mary Kate care for her mother—and to see the way Frances moved from the swing to the wicker chair without any assistance. After the upsetting evening she’d had at the emergency room earlier in the week, he was pleased to witness Frances’s recovery. Her resilience and bright ideas were further proof that she wanted to spend time with him as much as he craved her company.

  When Mary Kate had finished arranging the towels and ice packs around Frances’s arms, he thought it would be a good time to address an issue she might see differently than her older sister did.

  “Mary Kate, are you concerned that your mamm might be taking to me on the rebound—perhaps too soon after your dat’s passing?” he asked softly. He watched her face closely for signs that her reply didn’t express her true feelings.

  When Frances appeared ready to answer for her, Mary Kate gently squeezed her shoulder. “I suppose to a lot of folks, it seems she hasn’t had long enough to mourn Dat’s loss,” she said in a thoughtful tone. “But once he refused medical help—and had a stroke—we all knew how the story would end. We had some time to prepare ourselves.”

  Marlin nodded. Although Mary Kate was the younger daughter, she was far more mature than Gloria, and she did what needed to be done without hesitation.

  “Mamm has always known her own mind. She’s found ways to follow her heart and God’s leading even when my dat the bishop might not’ve agreed wi
th her,” she added with a chuckle. “Roman and I want her to be happy and to feel loved. As long as you give Mamm a chance to change her mind if your courtship starts feeling uncomfortable, we’re gut with it. Folks had their doubts about Roman and me, too, after all.”

  “You two have made a fine home for baby David,” Frances said softly. “Once again, it was Gloria who protested the relationship, because she wanted Roman for herself.”

  Marlin nodded, satisfied that Mary Kate’s response was honest—and pleased that she’d discussed the matter with her husband. Now that his courtship of Frances was public knowledge, he preferred that folks express their opinions in ways that were constructive rather than contentious.

  The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and Marlin didn’t leave the Lehmans’ porch until it was nearly time to tend the horses. “When shall we Kurtzes come for dinner, ladies?” he asked as he rose from the swing.

  After a moment, Frances replied, “Let’s make it Thursday evening after Roman’s finished his milking. I have an appointment with the doctor on Wednesday—so maybe after that, I won’t have to fit my day around my ice treatments.”

  Marlin nodded. “Need a ride? I can take you.”

  “Denki, but we’ve got her covered,” Mary Kate replied. “Our neighbors have taken gut care of us, bringing meals and such, so Roman and I will drive her to the clinic. It’ll get us out to do a bit of shopping.”

  Marlin could understand why a trip to town would be something to look forward to, after a week of being confined by Frances’s treatments. “I’ll let my clan know to be on their best behavior for Thursday night,” Marlin teased. “Meanwhile, I’ll be checking on you—so let me know how I can help.”

  As he strolled up the hill toward home, Marlin whistled cheerfully. Was it his imagination, or was the sun shining more brightly on trees that seemed greener? The surface of Rainbow Lake glistened like a million diamonds in the distance, and all around him the property of Promise Lodge reflected the wonder and glory of God’s creation.