The Amish Witness. Diane Burke
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She didn’t move a muscle. She couldn’t meet his eyes, either.
When she didn’t answer him, he threw more questions at her.
“Why did you leave with Hannah? How could you leave your church and abandon your faith?”
“I never abandoned my faith.” She kept her eyes down. “I believe today as I have always believed.”
“You left your parents and your community.” His voice was filled with accusation and hurt before it broke into a hoarse whisper. “You left me.”
Silence beat loudly between them.
Thomas murmured a prayer for Gott to forgive him for harboring these negative feelings and to give him the strength he needed to forgive Elizabeth. When he spoke again, he tried to soften his tone.
“I deserved more than that handwritten note your mother gave me, which said nothing more than goodbye. We deserved more.” He stared at her slumped shoulders and continued to wait for an answer that didn’t come.
Slowly she lifted her face. “Thomas...” Her eyes pleaded for understanding but her words offered no explanation. Pain stabbed through his chest.
What had happened to his Elizabeth? Who was this stranger standing in front of him?
“Why did you kumm back?” He glared at her, his heart holding such hurt he could hardly bear it.
“This is my home. Where else should I be?”
He recoiled in shock as if she had slapped him. He knew his face registered his surprise but he couldn’t hide his emotions. “You’re staying? This is not just a visit?”
She straightened her shoulders. “I’m not sure. When I came back, I planned to get baptized and remain here.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Now I’m not sure that was a wise decision.”
Thomas pulled her close, so only inches separated them. His breath gently fanned the loose tendrils of hair on her neck. “Why now? Why after all these years?”
She didn’t answer.
He studied her closely.
“You used to be able to talk to me,” he said. “We were friends...more than friends.” A thread of steel laced his words. “We are not leaving this barn until you tell me the truth.”
“You cannot order me around, Thomas. I am a grown woman and make my own decisions.” Before he could ask any more questions, she eased her arm out of his grasp and hurried to put a distance between them. “I’ll tell Mamm you are ready for breakfast,” she called over her shoulder as she headed toward the house.
* * *
A short time later Elizabeth had just set a tray of spam, fried potatoes and scrambled eggs on the table when she heard Thomas enter the house. He joined them in the kitchen. He’d hung his hat on the rack by the front door. His face and hands were clean and water droplets glistened in his hair from cleaning up after doing his chores.
Elizabeth’s pulse quickened. It was so good to see Thomas again—too good.
Thomas took a seat at the head of the table, as if he belonged there.
But why shouldn’t he?
If he helped her mother every day with the heavy chores, brought his children to visit with her and then paid her besides, it was obvious he had earned that place at the table. He had done more for her mother than she had over the years, Elizabeth realized, and a wave of guilt washed over her.
“Denki, Mary,” Thomas said as he looked at the plate of food she placed before him. “I am hungrier than I thought.” He smiled at her mother and Elizabeth’s heart melted with the wish that she could be the recipient of that warmth. She knew the coldness in his tone during their conversation in the barn was well-deserved. But that hadn’t prevented his words from hurting her.
Elizabeth stayed silent as Thomas ate his meal. She smiled occasionally as she listened to Thomas and her mamm discuss the newest antics of his children, and chat about next spring’s planting once the last frost had gone. She was a polite hostess as she passed plates of food and served coffee, but her mind wandered, was constantly mired in days gone by and useless musings of what-ifs.
“Elizabeth?” The surprised and stern tone in her mother’s voice pulled her out of her reverie. “Thomas asked you a question.”
“What?” Her gaze flew from her mother to Thomas. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered. What did you ask, Thomas?”
“I asked about Hannah. Did the two of you remain friends after you both left our community?”
Elizabeth’s heart seized. “Ja, we did. We were more like sisters than friends.”
“How is she—” Mary asked.
“Will she be returning to Sunny Creek, too?” Thomas interrupted, his tone more accusatory than questioning. The intensity of his gaze made Elizabeth lower hers.
“No.” She hoped the softness in her voice would hide the high anxiety storming through her body. Her hands trembled so she immediately folded them in her lap.
“I’m surprised,” Mary said. “I know Hannah was happy here until her mother died. I always believed that one day she would return.” Her mother sent her a puzzled look. “Is the Englisch way so appealing that it is worth leaving everything and everyone she knew behind?”
Elizabeth lightly covered her mother’s hand with her own. “Hannah loved the Amish way, Mamm. Always. The appeal of the Englisch was never the reason we left. You know that.”
“Then why?” An icy edge took hold in Thomas’s voice.
Elizabeth and her mother gave each other a telling glance but remained silent, keeping a secret between them that neither woman was ready to share.
“It is a simple question, Elizabeth. This sister of yours, if she did not leave for love of the Englisch, then why isn’t she returning, too?
Elizabeth squared her shoulders and met his gaze unflinchingly. She saw the anger, pain and confusion in his eyes, and she felt sorry for him. His question wasn’t about Hannah. It was about them and her betrayal. Yes, she owed him an explanation. But not now. Not yet. The time wasn’t right. She wondered if the time would ever be right. She offered him a gentle smile and spoke softly. “As I said, Thomas. Hannah won’t be returning home.”
“Then she couldn’t have loved our way of life as much as you say,” he said.
“Leaving Sunny Creek was one of the hardest things Hannah ever did.”
“Couldn’t have been too hard. She left. You both did.”
Elizabeth remained silent beneath the verbal slap of his tone. She knew it was pain speaking.
Mary stood and gathered up some of the empty platters. “What does it matter now, Thomas? It happened so many years ago. Elizabeth has kumm home. Let us be happy about that.”
“I am sorry if I upset you, Mary. But I am confused.” Again he turned his focus on Elizabeth. “Why is asking a simple question so difficult to answer? If Hannah loved it here as much as you say, if you are as close as sisters, then why hasn’t Hannah returned with you?”
“Because Hannah’s dead.”
Mary gasped. “What? Hannah died?” She placed the platters back onto the table and sank down into her chair.
Elizabeth’s words caused a heavy silence to descend on the room for several seconds.
Thomas, appearing surprised and chagrined, spoke more softly. “I am sorry you lost your friend. That must have been very difficult for you.”
“She was so young,” Mary said. “You never told me she was ill. I would have told you to bring her home. I would have helped care for her. When did this