Daybreak: The Days of Redemption Series, Book One (6 page)

But now that he was around Viola? She didn’t avoid him like the women in Nicaragua. She simply didn’t like him.

Which, for some perverse reason, appealed to him all the more.

He glanced her way again. Viola, why even her name was ladylike. It was no wonder his father had been smitten with her!

When she entered the room, it was as if a new force had just blown in. Today she wore a bright pink dress, which made her cheeks look rose-colored. And her voice was so melodic, he found himself baiting her, just so she would talk a little bit more. To his amusement, he seemed to be following in his father’s footsteps . . . he was smitten—and he hardly knew her.

“So, does my
daed
send you on these fool’s errands often?”

She turned to him sharply, then thawed when she saw his almost innocent expression. “
Nee.
He’s been known to have me fetch him blankets or tea or coffee or cards or books . . . but this is the first chocolate-pie mission.”

“Is he so needy?”

“He’s a character, that’s what he is. I truly don’t mind. He has no one else, you know.”

Ah. Yet another jab. “He and I made the decision for him to go to the home together, Viola.” Not that it was any of her business.

She visibly winced. “I didn’t mean to sound as harsh as I did. I’m beginning to see that he’s happy, living at the retirement home.”

“He is. Though I’m a bit surprised by how happy. I thought he’d be content at Daybreak, but that he’d also jump at the chance to go back home for a while.”

“And he didn’t jump, did he?”

“Nope. But I suppose I can’t blame him. Our house is no longer the happy place it once was,” he said before he could take back the words. Well, he might as well explain. “Ever since my mother died, it only holds sad memories.”

Her dark brown eyes clouded with sympathy. “Yes, I can imagine that.”

A new sense of peace drifted between them. Almost tangibly, he could feel some of her anger toward him dissipate.

She smiled, the first real smile she’d directed his way. “Going back to this fool’s errand, I have to say that I have a feeling if we do a good job, it won’t be the last.” She smiled and a dimple appeared. “He’s a terrible jokester. Was he always like that?”

“Not so much. My mother kept a fairly tight rein on him. She didn’t have any patience for a lot of teasing. But he definitely tried to get her dander up.”

“There was only the three of you?”

He nodded. “I was their surprise baby, more than they expected, I guess.” What he didn’t dare confide were all of his parents’ comments about how special he was. They’d told him time and again that he must have been born to them for a reason. That God had a plan for him, to be born when his parents had long since given up having a family full of
kinner
.

“And what about your other relatives?” she asked. “What do they think of your mission work, and of your
daed
living in the retirement home?”

He was beginning to feel interrogated again. “I have none living in the area. My parents were youngest children, and they moved out to Berlin on their own. I’m getting the sense that your home wasn’t like that?”

“Oh, no. I still live with my brother and twin sister, and parents. And grandparents. And we have aunts and uncles and cousins nearby, too. Family is everything with my family.” She smiled for an instant, then, before his eyes, looked crestfallen, too.

There was something in her tone that sent off warning signals inside him. But he couldn’t quite figure out what she said that was wrong.

“You’re blessed to be surrounded by so much love and support.”

“Jah.”

“I guess you’ve never had to worry about being alone.”

Still looking perturbed, she shook her head. “No . . . No, I haven’t. I grew up thinking my family was the best.”

“I imagine everyone thinks that about their family. I grew up thinking that, too, even though there was only the three of us.”

“Even if I no longer feel that my family is perfect, I have chosen to stay near them.”

“Most women do.”

“As do most men. At least most Amish men.”

“Just because I decided to enter into the mission field, it doesn’t mean we are all that different. ”

“Then perhaps it’s only our feelings about family that are different.”

“I love my father, Viola.”

“I’m sure you do. But the fact of the matter is that your dear father is in an old folks’ home, Ed. You put him there while you went off to live in a foreign country.”

He held his temper in check with effort—but only barely. “You’re making it sound like all I do in Nicaragua is hang out and go swimming.”

“Oh, I know you do all kinds of good works. Each letter is filled with all your good, charitable efforts. I’m surprised you can sleep at night, your works are so special.”

“Please, don’t hold back. Tell me what you really think,” he said as he held the door for her to the Berlin Bakery.

Before she could deliver any more biting commentary on his life, he marched up to the counter. “I need one chocolate cream pie, Marcia. And could you box it up carefully?”

Marcia smiled brightly. “Of course, Edward. It is so
gut
to see you! You should stop by the
haus
and tell us all about your time in South America. We’re so proud of you.”

Though it wasn’t nice, he sent a smug look Viola’s way.

She glared back. Unimpressed.

Stung, he ignored her for a few more moments, preferring to visit with Marcia about her parents and sisters. After he paid, and retrieved the pie, he turned back to his surly companion. “Are you ready to continue our errands?”

“Yes. Of course,” she said after a moment’s pause. “But I’m going to carry the pie.”

“Fine. You can carry them both for all I care.”

chapter five

The knocking came again, this time a little bit louder, and with a little more force.

“Peter, are you all right?” Marie asked from outside the bathroom door. “You’ve been in there for quite some time.”

Sitting on the bathroom floor, the cold from the ceramic tiles seeping through the thin fabric of his wool pants, Peter was tempted to smile. Because if he knew anything, it was that he was mighty far from being “all right.”

At the moment he was reduced to hiding in his own bathroom, afraid to answer his wife’s calls. He’d never dreamed he would sink so low.

During breakfast, the familiar anger and frustration had coursed through him, as both of his parents steadfastly refused to discuss the photograph.

Even when he’d pressed the issue.

“It’s not right, this game you’re playing with us,” he’d said to them. “All of us deserve to know about your past.”

His father had stared back at him in the cool way he seemed to have perfected over the last sixty years. “I disagree.”

Years ago, his father’s implacable gaze would have rendered him silent.

Now he wasn’t ready to give up so easily. Turning to his mother, he’d said, “ I know Sam and Lorene would feel as I do, Mamm. Your children need to know the truth about how you grew up and how you joined our faith.”

“I don’t see why my reasons would have any effect on you. The past is long gone, Peter. Nothing I tell you will change that.”

She was right. But years of lying to them about her childhood was hard to swallow. All they’d ever known was that their parents had moved to Ohio soon after they married because the land was far cheaper than in Lancaster County. His
mamm
never mentioned her parents, and his father had only mentioned his brothers in passing, saying that the distance was hard.

Peter remembered Jacob once asking about their family tree for a school project, and being promptly silenced. His mother had said that the only family that mattered was right here in Berlin.

They’d never understood their parents’ silence about their extended family, but they’d quickly learned never to ask further questions.

His mother straightened, her spine as stiff as if it had been nailed to a ruler. “We will not discuss this a moment longer. I refuse to do it.” She had the gall to look toward Marie. “I’d like some more
kaffi
,” she said quietly. “And, Elsie, I want you to bring your grandfather some more biscuits.”

Both women had done as she bid. As they’d always done.

But now it felt wrong. Seeing his sweet wife waiting on his mother, seeing Elsie look miserable—he’d felt as helpless as a child. Which, of course, was how his parents were treating him.

“We will discuss this again,” he’d said.

“That is enough, Peter,” his father cautioned, his voice as unwavering as a rod of steel. “You are looking for problems that don’t exist. You’ll cause a lifetime of regret, son.”

Peter had been so stunned by his parents deftly turning the blame for their secrets into his fault for wanting to know the whole story that he’d felt physically ill.

He could only assume they were hiding something dark and terrible. It wasn’t all that uncommon for
Englischers
to fall for Amish people and change their ways, joining the church after consideration and lots of study. There was nothing shameful about it. If his parents were just concealing a complicated love story, they would have told them their story long ago.

Fearing that he would lose his breakfast in front of the family, he’d practically run to the bathroom.

He cooled his face with a damp washcloth. Brushed his teeth. Took deep breaths. But the tight knot of anger steadfastly stayed put.

Finally, he gave in to temptation, pulled out the bottle of vodka he’d taken care to hide in the back corner of the cupboard under his sink, and poured a small amount of liquor into a Dixie cup. Swallowed the alcohol in one long sip. And then poured another shot.

Almost immediately, he felt the tension in his muscles dissipate as his nerves began to steady.

And he was almost ready to go back out and confront his demons. But not quite yet. And definitely not in his wife’s presence.

There was still one person who he felt always saw the best in him, and that was Marie. No way did he want to disappoint her.

“Peter?” she called again, this time accompanied with a fierce knock. “Please answer. I’m starting’ to get concerned.”

“I’m fine, Marie.”

“Are you sure?” The doorknob jiggled. “Unlock the door.”

“Not yet,” he replied after vigorously washing out his mouth again with Listerine. There was no way he could come out of the room with the scent of liquor on his breath. “Marie, go on now. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Are you sure?” She lowered her voice. “Do you need some help? Unlock the door, Peter, so I can come in . . .”

Glancing at himself in the mirror, he grimaced. Looking back at him was a person who was on the verge of a breakdown.

Hating who he was becoming, he gripped the countertop, and waited for his eyes to focus. “Marie, let a man have his privacy, why don’tcha? Please, don’t worry so.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” Her words were muffled. Full of hurt. Maybe even slightly embarrassed. But he heard something else, too. A thread of worry and doubt. Yes, her tone was laced with mistrust.

Gathering the last vestiges of his patience, he murmured, “You’re not intruding, Marie. I just need one more moment alone. I’ll be right out. I promise.”

He heard shuffling on the other side. “If you’re sure . . .”

“I am very sure.”

When he heard her walk away, he hid the bottle back under the sink, behind an old assortment of shampoo and bars of soap and tissue.

After twenty-five years of marriage, his wife was starting to mistrust him.

He had married a smart woman.

And he was starting to feel as if she’d married a very weak man.

Something was going to need to be done soon. He couldn’t continue the way he was, holding everything inside, pretending he was fine when he wasn’t. All the subterfuge was taking a toll on his body and his soul. He had the sweetest wife in the world. And she put up with so much. She surely didn’t deserve the man that he’d become.

Schooling his features, he opened the door and walked out. To his surprise, she hadn’t gone far. She was standing at the end of the hall, eyeing him warily.

With a smile, he said, “There. I’m out now. What was so important that it couldn’t wait? Did you need something?”

She stepped backward, obviously disturbed by his tone. “As a matter of fact, yes. But now I’m wondering if, perhaps, you need to tell me something instead.” Her gaze seemed to take in every inch of him. And it was obvious that she saw something that didn’t please her.

“I don’t need to tell you a thing.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You sound like your mother.”

The glint in her eyes told him she was teasing. “I hope I don’t. She’s the last person I want to emulate right now.”

“Then Peter—”

Folding his arms over his chest, he fought to act like nothing in the world could ever be wrong. “Don’t fuss. I am fine, Marie.”

“Are you sure? Because, Peter, if you have a problem, I could help you. That’s what husbands and wives do for each other.”

“Of course they do. And you know I would move heaven and earth to give you help, if that’s what you needed.”

“I feel the same way.”

“I’m glad of that.” He gently rubbed his calloused thumb along the fine line of her cheekbone before turning and starting down the stairs. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore. Not about his drinking, not about his family. But he couldn’t tell her that.

She followed at his heels.

As he plodded down the steep staircase, trying to maintain his balance, he shot off a question. “Was there something you wanted to talk about now that we’ve determined that I am fine?”

“
Jah.
It’s about your mother.”

He swayed a bit and blamed it on the topic. He loved his parents. But were they also a source of hurt and stress in his life? Always!

As they came to the landing, Marie rushed to his side. “Peter, you almost stumbled. This is not like you. Are you all right?”

Though he knew it hurt her feelings, he shrugged off her touch. “I am perfectly fine, Marie.” When they reached the kitchen, he said, “Now, tell me. What’s wrong with Mamm now?”