“If you make this decision, Vicky will be his mother. Whether you’ll be able to cope with being close by will be something you’ll have to figure out.” Betsy hesitated. Her blue eyes were dark and serious. “You would have to be able to let go of this baby. To know he’s where he’s supposed to be. To know he’s in a good place. And you would have to be able to go on with your life.”

  Maisy gulped down the orange juice, trying to swallow a hard knot in her throat. What would her family think? The bishop? Did Nate have a say in this? Surely not. She cleared her throat. “I really need to think more about this.”

  “Pray about it.” Smiling, Betsy relaxed back in her chair. “First things first. Pray. I’ll pray for you as well.”

  Good advice.

  “If I decide to do this, how will it work? How is it done?”

  “Since there’s no adoption agency involved, the Kings would have to get a lawyer to draw up a contract for everyone to sign to make it legal. You can have as much or as little contact with the Kings as you want before the baby comes. When he arrives—whether that’s at the Planks or here—the Kings would be there to take him home. Your part would be done.”

  What would she do then? Where would she go? Could she simply go on with her life back in Jamesport? Could she stay in Haven a few miles down the road from the child she gave away? The questions pelted Maisy like rocks flung in anger. “It’s a lot to think about.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “You won’t say anything to anyone about this—especially not the Kings?”

  “Absolutely not. You can count on that.” Betsy walked Maisy out to the lobby. “Anything you say to me here is confidential. If you have any more questions or you just want to vent, come see me.”

  “You kept saying he and him. Is that what you saw on the ultrasound? A boy?”

  “No, no, don’t draw any conclusions.” Grinning, Betsy shook her head and put both hands up, palms out. “It’s just easier to say he than he or she every time. I wouldn’t let the cat out of the bag that easily. My lips are sealed.”

  It didn’t matter. Not to Maisy. Certainly not to the Kings. “Thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure to help any way I can.” She held open the door. “I’ll be praying for you.”

  Maisy needed all the prayers she could get.

  Chapter 20

  The steady patter of rain against the store windows kept Joshua company as he pushed a dust mop around the furniture on display in the store. Rain meant fewer customers at Mast’s Furniture and Antique Store, but the peaceful sound was a sign autumn had arrived with cooler weather and much needed moisture for the plants and animals in farming country. October was quickly slipping toward November and winter. Gone were long days in the broiling sun working side by side with Amos in the fields. Instead Joshua dealt with English tourists who wanted to negotiate down prices for beautiful handmade quilts that had taken months of painstaking needlework to complete. They wanted deals on handcrafted curio cabinets and bed sets. Or they wanted to take selfies with Joshua. They wanted to grill him on being Amish or have him speak in Pennsylvania Dutch so they could record it and play it back for their friends.

  That was where Joshua drew the line. He was polite. He did his best to be a good employee, but he didn’t feel obligated to be chatty. As if he could. For that he called Caleb, the store owner, out from his office at the back of the store. Let him be the Yoder goodwill ambassador. Humming, Joshua stowed the mop and picked up a dustrag. The bell over the front door jangled. He dropped the rag and strode to the front.

  Bryan stood on the rug, closing his dripping umbrella. Raindrops splattered his black jacket and straw hat. His glasses steamed over from the humidity. For a split second Joshua considered whirling around and hiking to the back of the store. Let Caleb deal with him.

  Only Bryan hadn’t come to the store to buy furniture or quilts. He was a saddlemaker by trade so he didn’t have pieces on consignment here either. Smiling, he took off his glasses and wiped the lenses on his shirt. “Just the man I came to see.”

  “When did you start wearing glasses?”

  As if that was an important piece of information. Anything to put off the coming discussion.

  “Last week. When I couldn’t see the street signs anymore, it was time.” Bryan perched the wire-rimmed specs on his nose. “I thought you might be due for a lunch break about now. I have a hankering for a bacon cheeseburger and onion rings at Bull’s Eye Grill.”

  “It’s only eleven o’clock.” A weak response. Everyone knew it was best to get to the Bull’s Eye early before the lunch-hour rush filled the small restaurant to capacity. “I’m out here by myself while Caleb takes care of paperwork in his office.”

  “I reckon Caleb intends for you to take lunch.”

  “He knows I bring my lunch. It’s too expensive to eat in a restaurant every day.”

  “This lunch is on me.” Bryan leaned his umbrella against the wall. He took off his hat and shook it. Raindrops scattered on the rug. “I’ll browse while you ask Caleb.”

  Bryan knew no one in his right mind would turn down a free meal at the Bull’s Eye. Nor could Joshua say no when it was the bishop asking. Not really asking. Telling.

  Joshua trudged back to Caleb’s office. His boss was perfectly happy to give Joshua a long lunch hour when he heard it was the bishop calling. Bryan wasn’t Caleb’s bishop, but he understood how these things worked. “Enjoy your lunch,” he called out as Joshua opened the door and let Bryan go first.

  “Very funny,” Joshua muttered.

  “What?” Bryan lifted his umbrella to cover them both. “Did you say something?”

  “Nothing. I was just commenting on how the rain has cooled the air. It feels gut.”

  “Indeed. Fall is my favorite season.”

  They left Bryan’s buggy parked in the lot next to the furniture store and walked in the rain, which had turned into a drizzle, to the Bull’s Eye. Bryan seemed focused on avoiding puddles and the splashing of cars as they drove by so conversation was minimal. Even at this early hour most of the tables at the red barn-style restaurant were taken. The volume of chatter nearly raised the roof. The aroma of burgers on the grill, fried chicken, and grilled onions mingled in a mouthwatering scent. At least it would’ve been mouthwatering if Joshua’s stomach didn’t rock with every step closer to this conversation.

  Bryan pointed to a table for two by the kitchen door. “That will work.”

  Despite the crowd, a waiter descended on them not one minute later with ice water and menus. Bryan reeled off his order and handed the menu back to him. “What’s your poison?”

  A knot in the pit of Joshua’s stomach didn’t bode well for enjoying a meal with Bryan sitting across from him. Joshua swallowed hard and ordered his usual—a mushroom Swiss cheeseburger with sweet potato fries. Maybe a root beer would settle his stomach.

  “There’s no reason to be so mortified.” Bryan slurped his water. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “People didn’t used to look so alarmed when they saw me coming.”

  “You’ve been bishop for three years now. You must be used to it.”

  “I have no more qualifications to be bishop than you do.”

  “But Gott chose you through the lot.”

  “So you do believe.” Bryan’s dark-brown eyes lit up. “Or are you just parroting what you’ve been taught?”

  “Is that what you want to talk about?”

  “Among other things. Your daed and I had a conversation after church yesterday.” Bryan’s gaze shifted over Joshua’s shoulder. He waved and hollered a greeting. People liked Bryan. “That’s the thing about eating here. We’ll know everyone.”

  “We don’t have to do this now.”

  “We’re both busy people. I figure a man has to eat, so this is as gut a time as any. Your daed’s concerned. He’s between a rock and a hard place. He feels like he can’t say anything. Yet as a daed he can’t help his feelings. I’m the bishop. I have more leeway.”

  Here it came. Joshua lined up the catsup bottle, salt and pepper shakers, toothpicks, and sugar dispenser in a buttress against the coming attack. “Leeway for what?”

  “To talk about three things.” Bryan held up one stubby finger. “First, the time you’ve been spending with Maisy Glick and why.” Another finger went up. “Second, the fact that you still haven’t been baptized, and third, you don’t come to church.”

  “So I’ve had an extended rumspringa.” Better to talk religion than about his ambivalent feelings regarding Maisy. They were his feelings, and Bryan wasn’t entitled to know about them. Besides, Joshua couldn’t explain them to himself. How could he explain them to another man—especially the bishop? “I haven’t broken any rules. I don’t drive a car or date Englisch girls or carry a cell phone. I don’t go to movies or drink alcohol—”

  “Stop right there. I’m fully aware you obey the Ordnung like a faithful Plain man. No one can fault you for that. What I don’t understand is why you don’t take the next step and commit yourself to the faith. You aren’t Plain until you do. If you wanted to pursue a life outside the faith, you would’ve by now.”

  An astute observation, but Bryan had no right to demand that Joshua unpack his wounds and share them like show-and-tell. “No one is to take the vow of baptism until he is sure of his faith.”

  “What questions do you still have?”

  Joshua paused while the waiter placed his pop on the table, along with an iced tea for Bryan. When he walked away, Joshua tore the paper from his straw, dunked it in the root beer, and sipped.

  “You’re stalling.”

  “I am.” Joshua set his soda on a cardboard coaster. “Do you know why we moved to Haven?”

  “I do.”

  “Then you know what my questions are.”

  “It’s been ten years.”

  “People keep saying that like there’s a time limit for grief.”

  “Do you trust that Gott knows what He’s doing?”

  “If He does, He has a cruel streak.”

  “The fundamental pillars of our faith are obedience and humility.” Bryan’s tone didn’t change. “Do you think you’re smarter than Gott, that you know more than He does? That you can thumb your nose at Him and go about your life without Him because you’re miffed at the way your life is going?”

  “Nee—”

  “It sure seems that way. Who are you to question Gott’s plan? Who are you, Joshua Lapp?”

  He was a twelve-year-old boy standing in front of a blazing inferno started by lightning, by an act of nature, watching it consume the only home he’d ever known, watching it devour the life of his twin brother without mercy, without grace, without thought for the consequences. “A man with questions.”

  “I don’t think so. I think you’re stuck. Stuck in a time warp. You’re still twelve, and you’re still mad. You’re mad at Gott.” His brown eyes full of empathy, Bryan spoke softly as if afraid of scaring off that little boy. “I think it’s time for you to grow up.”

  The words stung. The ache in Joshua’s throat made it impossible to respond. It throbbed in concert with his aching heart. He rubbed the heel of his hand across his chest.

  The waiter showed up with their food. Maybe God was watching over him, after all. Bryan said nothing while the waiter distributed their food, asked if they needed anything else, and trotted away.

  He bowed his head. Joshua did the same. Gott, please get me through this meal. Don’t let me crack. Sei so gut. No matter what happened, he still had conversations with God, most of them surly and morose on his part.

  “Amen.” Bryan unrolled his silverware and spread his napkin on his lap. “Let’s let that topic lie while we eat. It’s far too heavy. I, for one, would like to enjoy this greasy pile of goodness. I can feel my arteries hardening as we speak.”

  Grateful, Joshua nodded. His hamburger tasted like cardboard. Only a mound of catsup made it possible to swallow several sweet potato fries washed down with pop.

  Bryan wiped his greasy lips with his napkin. Crumbs dotted his dark-brown beard. He didn’t seem to notice. Or care. “It’s been brought to my attention that you’ve been seen with Maisy Glick.”

  The gossipmongers struck again. Joshua laid down his hamburger. “Since I’m not a member of the Gmay, I didn’t think there was a prohibition. She’s alone here except for the Planks and her midwife.”

  “There’s not. This is more of an offering of advice to proceed with caution.” Bryan’s piercing gaze no doubt saw too much. Or saw what he wanted to see. “You seem to suggest you can be her friend. You’re a man. She’s a woman, a woman who’s put herself in a precarious position with a fehla that will follow her throughout her life.”

  “She’s made a mistake. She’s paying for it. She only has to ask to be forgiven and she will be. At least that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

  “Agreed.” Bryan dunked an oversized onion ring in catsup. He rolled his eyes in feigned ecstasy as he bit into it, chewed, and swallowed. “Is it your intention to save her from herself, then?”

  “Nee. There are no intentions.” None that he could explain. Joshua threw his napkin over his uneaten food. “I brought her to Amos’s from the train station. Somehow I feel responsible for her.”

  “She’s responsible for herself. If she needs help, she has family.”

  “They seem more inclined to judge than to help.”

  “They’re protecting their kinner from being infected by Maisy’s fehla.”

  “I thought boplin were never mistakes.”

  “They aren’t. The adults make the mistakes. That doesn’t mean we get to ignore Gott’s Word regarding the rightful order of things when it comes to love and marriage.”

  Joshua snatched his napkin from his plate and refolded it. He didn’t disagree. What did Bryan want from him? “What would you have me do?”

  “I can only advise you, one man to another. Be careful with your heart. Be careful with hers, which is surely bruised and hurting as well. Think carefully of the consequences.”

  “No one said anything about love.”

  “Maybe not yet, but maybe a longing for more. Your face gives you away.”

  His mother had said something similar. They were wrong. They had to be. “Amos asked me to train her so she could get a job at the hardware store. I did that. There’s no more to it than that.”

  Sure, he stopped by the store regularly now. They sat at the picnic table in the back, ate their sack lunches, and compared notes on the crazy antics of their customers. Like friends would.

  A Plain man and a Plain woman couldn’t be friends.

  “Gut to know.” Bryan mopped up a puddle of catsup with his last onion ring. He’d demolished his burger. “I sure could use a hot fudge sundae to top off a good meal.” He patted his small paunch. “But I better not. My eyes are always bigger than my stomach.”

  Danki Gott for small favors.

  “What can I do to help you with your questions?”

  “Let me find my own way.”

  “We’ve done that.”

  “Pray.”

  “We continue to do that.” Bryan counted out several bills and laid them next to the ticket. “Come to see me with your questions instead of brooding. Talk with me man to man. Take the baptism classes with Samuel. Face your anger instead of wallowing in it.”

  Easy for Bryan to say. Walk a mile in my shoes. I’m not wallowing, Gott. Am I? “There’s more to it than just the baptism.”

  “I know.”

  He probably did. Joshua took a last swallow of soda. He breathed. “I can’t think about having a family until I have a better handle on my livelihood.”

  “The district appreciates the work you do for Amos. We know it comes at a cost to you.”

  “It’s also not a job that will sustain a family. Nor is the job at the furniture store a few months out of the year.” Joshua unwrapped one of the peppermints that had come with the bill and popped it in his mouth. Maybe it would calm his stomach. “Caleb has sons who work for him. I suspect he hired me because he has a good heart and wanted to help me in a way similar to how I help Amos. To get unstuck I need to pursue a vocation that will support my family.”

  Bryan shook a toothpick from the jar on the table and applied it to his teeth. After a few seconds, he nodded. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Making saddles and leather goods puts you in contact with many folks who own horses.” Joshua studied the bishop’s face. Understanding and concern mingled in his eyes. “Jacob and I wanted to train horses when we grew up.” His voice cracked on the last two words. He took a long breath and let it out. “I still do.”

  “Good to know.” A grin stretched across Bryan’s face. “I know just the person. John Shirak. He has a horse farm over in the East District. I’ll put in a gut word for you and see if he has a need for a hired hand eager to learn the trade. This is a step in the right direction.”

  A baby step. “I’d appreciate that.”

  Bryan stood. “You better get back. Caleb will have my hide if I keep his employee away for too long.”

  Not likely.

  Together they walked back to the store. The sun tried to break through dark, heavy clouds. The cool air had turned warm and humid. “Danki for the meal.” Joshua had one hand on the door. As anxious as he’d been to avoid this conversation, he now saw it for what it was. A flicker of light in the darkness. “I appreciate that you made a trip into town to talk to me.”

  “Gern gschehme. You didn’t eat much of it. You wish I hadn’t stopped by, I know.” Bryan took the toothpick from his mouth and grinned. “You think I’m a nosy busybody, but I’m not. It’s not just my job as bishop to care. It’s my job as a fellow brother in Christ, a member of the body of Christ.”

  “I know that and I appreciate it.” Joshua’s body felt strangely buoyant. “Faeriwell.”

  He slipped inside before Bryan could respond. After he closed the door, he glanced out to make sure Bryan had walked away. Maisy sat on a bench outside the hardware store. She’d probably wondered why he hadn’t come by at lunch. Not anymore. Bryan probably saw her too.