A Wells Landing Christmas Page 14

  This time the door opened and Ethan stood there. One look at her and he grinned. Some people wanted her around, even if the youth group didn’t.

  “Ivy.” He stepped back so she could enter his room. “What brings you by today?”

  “I thought I might read to you.” She held up the book, then lowered it back to her side. “Is that weird? I know you can read. But I thought you might enjoy—”

  “It’s not weird. And I would love for you to read to me. I don’t see as well as I used to.”

  She settled down in the chair opposite him and began to read. An hour later they took a break, got something to drink, and sat back down. She opened the book to the page where they had left off and trailed one finger down the words to find her place.

  “Tell me again, Ivy. Why’s a girl like you at a senior home instead of out with friends?”

  A girl like me? She looked up and met Ethan’s gaze. “It’s a long story.”

  “I have time if you want to share.”

  But she knew better. He didn’t have time. He was dying, and she wanted to spend all the time she could with him. Knowing him was a blessing. God had put him in her path for a reason. She knew it as sure as she knew her own name. She just had to be around until she figured out the reason for herself.

  “It’s—” She stopped. How wonderful it would be to unburden herself. She could tell Ethan all her problems—well, most of them anyway. That way she wouldn’t have to carry them around by herself.

  She stuck her finger between the pages of the book and set it in her lap. “What do you know about sin?”

  Ethan gave a casual shrug. “I believe the Bible speaks clearly on the matter. There are the seven deadly sins.”

  Not exactly what she wanted. “Forgiveness?”

  “The Lord forgives, if only you ask.”

  Asking. That was the problem. How could she stand in front of the church, in front of God, and confess all that she had done?

  She wasn’t a member of the church, but she couldn’t see a way around it in order to clear her conscience. If she went to the bishop now and asked about joining the church, about taking the following year’s baptism classes, she wouldn’t feel right doing so without coming clean about all she had done.

  Maybe his church was different.

  “What about . . . well, say a girl and a boy . . . you know . . . before they are married.”

  Ethan’s eyes narrowed only slightly, but she knew he was thinking. He was taking her words and fitting them with everything he knew about her, about church, about God.

  “Sin is sin,” he said simply.

  She knew that. What had she hoped—that she could leave her church and go to one where the rules for such things would suit her better?

  “But the Lord forgives.”

  The Lord forgives.

  “Tell me about him.”

  She lifted her gaze to Ethan’s. She was surprised by his request. “I—”

  “Please don’t tell me you were asking for a friend.” He gave her a sad little smile. “We both know that’s not the truth.”

  Ivy shifted in her seat, turned the book over in her lap, her finger still keeping her place between the pages.

  She examined his expression, did her best to read the emotions in his eyes. She could trust him, that much she knew. Instinctively. She could tell this man anything and it would go no further. Even still, she was scared. She liked Ethan, admired him even. If she told him about her and Zeb, would that change how he felt about her? She wasn’t sure she could handle damaging herself in his eyes.

  There was only one way to find out.

  “Do you know much about the Amish religion?” she finally asked.

  “No. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

  “It’s the church. It’s all about the church.”

  “That’s not always a bad thing,” he said.

  “Jah.” But there was still more. “If a young person hasn’t joined the church, they aren’t allowed to date until they do.”

  His eyebrows shot skyward, but he didn’t comment.

  “But sometimes, a boy and a girl can start liking each other, but if they haven’t joined the church . . .”

  He nodded. “I get it. So what happened between you and this boy who hasn’t joined the church?”

  “It’s me,” she said. “I’m the one who hasn’t joined the church.”

  “I see.”

  She believed he did. “Zeb joined long ago.”

  “This is the boy you liked.”

  “Loved,” she corrected. Might as well get everything out if she was dragging things onto the table.

  “Tell me about Zeb.”

  “He’s great. He’ll be a great provider, a strong husband, a loving father.”

  “But?”

  “Just not for me.” The thought sent tears pricking behind her lids. Not now. Not anymore.

  “What happened?”

  Ivy trained her gaze on the book still in her lap. She stared until the words on the back blurred to a smear against the cream-colored background. “Since we couldn’t date, we started sneaking around. Little things at first: going down to Millers’ Pond, taking a walk through the woods. But soon that wasn’t enough, and we wanted to spend more and more time together. Or maybe it was the fact that we were always alone together.”

  She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “We . . . uh . . . well . . .” She shifted in her seat, unable to say the words out loud. At the time it had seemed so natural and right, but now she was embarrassed to admit how stupid and naive she had been.

  But it was more than lack of sophistication and brains. She had truly thought they could have more without following the rules. What an utter fool she had been.

  Ethan held up one hand. “I think I can figure it out for myself.”

  She couldn’t help it; she nearly wept with relief. “I wanted it to make us closer, but in the end, it drove us apart.” It was a bit more complicated than that, but it would do for now.

  “Sin is sin,” he said again. “And forgiveness is forgiveness.”

  But how could she ask for forgiveness when she couldn’t even name her sins aloud? “I suppose.” But even to her own ears her words sounded downtrodden.

  “Do you believe that all you have to do is ask for the Lord to pardon you?”

  She nodded.

  “Then that is what you must do.”

  She stared at the book again, this time her eyes tearing in frustration and confusion. “I’m not sure I can ask Him for that.” She wasn’t sure it would be granted. Why embarrass herself and Zeb by stating their sins for their entire district to hear if God might deny her request?

  “Why would God deny you? I’ve always been taught ‘ask and you will be forgiven.’”

  “I can’t get up in front of everyone and confess.” It wouldn’t be expected of her, since she wasn’t a church member, but how could she accept forgiveness if she didn’t? It just wasn’t possible. And she surely couldn’t join the church and then do it. The truth would weigh her down even more than it did at the moment.

  “Is that what you would have to do? Get up in front of the church and declare your sin?”

  Not technically, but she didn’t think she could feel absolved any other way. And if she thought her peers and other members of the district despised her now . . . “Jah. I mean, yes.” But something in his tone made her continue. “What do they do in your church?”

  “We go to confession.” He shifted at her frown of confusion and tried to explain. “It’s like a closet with a screen divider in the center. You go in one side and the priest goes in the other.”

  “Then what happens?”

  “You say, ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.’ And then you tell him how long it’s been since your last confession. And then all that you have done since your last confession.”

  She mulled this over. “Everything?”

  “Just the things that you know are sinful.”

&n
bsp; It was better than announcing her transgressions to the whole church. “And that’s it?”

  “That’s the most of it. Then the Father gives you penance to say.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “They’re a little like poems. You say them with your rosary.”

  Now she was really confused, but she didn’t want to tell him that. She simply nodded like she understood and vowed she’d go by the library and look it up. After all, Ethan Dallas had an interesting religion.

  “And that’s it?” she finally asked.

  “In a nutshell.”

  Two thoughts occurred to her at the same time. How could a God forgive on that alone? And what would it take for her to be a part of such a belief?

  But just as quickly as they had come, she shoved them aside. She couldn’t change her religion as if she were changing shoes. And her problems with forgiveness were her own. Until she could forgive herself, she couldn’t ask God to forgive her. And if she couldn’t stand in front of the church the way her beliefs and her heart dictated, then forgiving herself would not be possible.

  She was chasing her tail like a silly mutt. Round and round in a circle, ever tightening.

  Ethan looked out his window. “It’s time for you to get home.”

  She followed his gaze, noting the darkening sky. “Jah.” Though she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay, to learn more about Ethan Dallas and his interesting religion.

  Ivy marked their place in the book with a slip of paper and stood. “Thank you for listening to me.”

  He smiled, and she was filled with the need to hug him. She refrained. “Will you come back?” he asked.

  “If you’ll have me.”

  “I would love nothing more.” His smile expanded until the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes became actual wrinkles and his dimples looked deep enough to fall into. “Next time I’ll tell you all about Mary.”

  She said her farewells and made her way down the hall. If it weren’t getting dark, she would go back in there and have him tell her all about Mary. She stopped and wondered who Mary really was. His wife? His sister? Maybe he was speaking of Mary, mother of Jesus, or even Mary Magdalene, the prostitute. Whoever she was, Ivy was anxious to hear about her. Or maybe she was excited to visit with Ethan again. Ethan who knew her secrets and neither condemned her nor ridiculed her. He had simply told her that she would be forgiven as soon as she asked. Except he didn’t know all her secrets. Only one other person knew them all. Zebadiah Brenneman.

  As if she had somehow made him appear with her thoughts alone, she turned the corner to leave the home and there he was.

  And not just Zeb, but a great many others from their youth group. There were Clara Rose, Obie, Thomas Lapp—even Sarah Miller, who used to be Sarah Yoder.

  She had only a moment to wonder what to do, but then it was too late. He had already seen her.

  “Ivy?” Zeb’s voice was full of astonishment. His eyes as well. He rushed toward her, even as she wished she could duck out of sight. “What are you doing here?”

  “I—I—I—” was all she managed to say as he grabbed her arm and led her back down the hall.

  He opened one of the first doors and gently pushed her inside. The door closed behind them with an ominous click, then he flipped on the light.

  They were in some kind of closet filled with mops, buckets on wheels, and jugs of cleaner. The place smelled of lemon scent and bleach, with an underlying musty hint of dirt.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  Ivy crossed her arms. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “We came to sing Christmas carols to the people who live here.”

  Of course. Every year they did the same at the other home in town. Why would this home be any different? They came to the home, walked down the halls, and sang to people. It was a fun and joyous endeavor, and she had looked forward to it . . . then.

  “Ivy?”

  “I—” She shifted and tried to come up with a good reason for her being here. These people understand me didn’t seem to be what he wanted to hear. “I came to visit with the residents.” She saw no need to mention anyone in particular.

  “You could have come with us.”

  She shook her head. “I’m tired of being ignored.” She didn’t say by my own people, but it somehow remained there, suspended in the air between them. Just as it had always been.

  * * *

  Zeb was still reeling with shock. He had invited Ivy to this very event and she had turned him down flat, stating that she was busy. It seemed “busy” was hanging around with old people and whatever else it was she did here.

  “Why didn’t you come here with me?” he asked. “I won’t ignore you.”

  “Everyone else would.”

  “Ivy,” he started, but she shook her head.

  “They don’t mean to. I understand. I’m that girl. The one who nobody wants their sister to be friends with or their brother to be interested in. I’ve kissed three boys, you know.”

  He didn’t believe it for a second. He had been her first. Her first kiss, her first everything. “That’s not true.”

  “Everyone says it is. Everyone but the people here.”

  “So that’s why you come here, because these people don’t talk about you?”

  “No,” she said simply. “They don’t. And they certainly don’t talk about my kissing three boys.”

  “Look at me and tell me it’s true.”

  She looked at him, but the words didn’t come. “No,” she finally whispered.

  “I want to know who started that rumor.” The hate in his voice was alarming. If he had been Englisch he would have followed that up with I’ll rip him apart, but he closed his mouth instead. “Who did this?”

  She whirled on him. “I did.”

  No other words could have sent him reeling like those did. “Why?” His question was little more than a whisper.

  “I wanted to keep them at a distance.”

  “Did it work?”

  “On everyone but Obie.”

  He knew about that. About how Obie and Ivy had worked together to get Clara Rose’s attention. He could find no fault with it.

  “I didn’t mind helping him,” she said. “I wanted to help him.”

  He believed her. “I guess that worked too.”

  She smiled, and his heart felt a little lighter. He felt like he hadn’t seen that smile in a long, long time.

  “You’re supposed to be singing.”

  He looked toward the closed door. From somewhere close he could hear the others caroling. Yes, he came here to sing. But those plans had changed the moment he saw Ivy.

  “What are you really doing here?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I already told you.”

  “The truth?”

  “As much as I want to tell you.”

  He wanted to press her. Make her tell him all that she was holding back. All the reasons why she was here. All the reasons why she had spread vicious rumors about herself. But there were some he knew and wasn’t sure could stand up to repeating. The others would have to wait until she was ready.

  Just make sure you’re around when she is.

  But he could only hope she wouldn’t shut him out forever.

  He took a step toward her, hesitant to get too close, needing to be next to her. He had missed her so much when he was gone. He’d thought he’d gotten over it, over her, but all he had to do to change that was see her again. “Let me take you home,” he said, hazarding another step. He needed to be just a bit closer.

  “You came here with the others.”

  He nodded. “Jah.”

  “Didn’t you bring a bus?”

  “Jah.”

  “I drove my tractor.”

  “Then you give me a ride home.”

  She hesitated, and he was certain she would tell him no. Finally she gave a quick nod. “Jah,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  * * *
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br />   She should have told him no. That she couldn’t take him home. And then made up a reason—any reason—why she couldn’t. And in the end she had given in to those clear green eyes and that slightly crooked grin. She had been a fool for Zeb Brenneman since the first time she had laid eyes on him. But bad timing had plagued them. Before she knew it, he had joined the church and she wanted to be with him more than she ever thought was possible.

  She peered up at him from her place in the seat to where he stood behind her on the tractor. He had his head ducked against the wind and a dark blue scarf covering the lower half of his face.

  It would be mean-spirited to smile at his discomfort, but she almost couldn’t stop herself. Instead she concentrated on the road ahead and the Englisch Christmas lights as they passed. If she were allowed electricity, that would be the very first thing she bought. Miles and miles of pretty, twinkling lights in every color imaginable. She wouldn’t have to have a Christmas tree in order to enjoy them. She would string them up all over and maybe not take them down, even after the New Year. There was something about the little pricks of light piercing through the dark. Every night they gently proclaimed the birth of the Savior like miniature fireworks. Or perhaps she was being overly romantic. It wasn’t like she would ever have electricity, but sometimes it was fun to dream.

  “Are you cold?” she called up to him.

  “Fine,” came his muffled reply.

  She stifled a laugh. “Did Florida make you soft?”

  He pulled the scarf down below his mouth. “Places without a cold winter are actually pretty fun.”

  “In the wintertime,” she volleyed.

  He laughed. “You’d be surprised.”

  She might be at that. She had never been much of anywhere, not even to Clarita for the annual school auction. Her biggest trip had been to the mall in Tulsa, shopping for shoes. At the time it had seemed like a grand adventure. But Florida . . . Suddenly she longed to travel as Zeb had. See some of the country. Even riding the bus across all those states and seeing the different places. That alone would be enough. She could buy a round-trip ticket, ride the bus to the ocean then back without even staying for lunch.

  Like that was going to happen. She had her grandfather to worry about. She had responsibilities, as they were. He needed her and she needed him. And that was all there was to it.