Maybe not, but it felt like the universe began and ended in their feelings for each other, as foolish as that might be.
Thomas looked toward the Kauffmans’ house with the lights shining from the windows in the distance. A car swept down the rural road, headlights cutting through the darkness, and then a pickup truck came thundering afterward, Englisher teenagers whooping out the windows.
That was the foolish life he was trying to keep his daughter away from, but more immediately, whooping, half-drunk Englishers were also the kind of danger he needed to protect Patience from this evening. The sky was almost fully dark now, and he couldn’t let Patience walk to the Kauffman house alone—for safety’s sake.
“Let me get you home,” he said, and he caught her hand in his.
She squeezed his hand in return.
“We shouldn’t—” she started.
“Let me get you home,” he repeated, his voice low. “And then I won’t touch you again, or ask you to love me. I’ll let you focus on your work. I won’t make this harder on you. But just for now... Let me hold your hand.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
And they walked through that long, lush grass together as the moon started to rise and the first pricks of stars materialized overhead. Her hand was warm and soft in his grasp, and he wished that this walk, and these stars and that crescent of a moon could last forever. Because while his heart was breaking, at least he had her at his side and his goodbye could be postponed.
When they got to the gate, he stopped, and she opened it, hovering for a breathless moment as if she might come back into his arms.
“Good night,” she said, her voice broken.
“Good night,” he replied.
The front door opened and Samuel appeared, light from indoors spilling out onto the porch. Patience picked up her pace, and Thomas waved at Samuel, trying to act like this was nothing more than a friendly walk—like no hearts had been shattered this evening.
Patience got to the door, and he held his breath.
Look back... Look at me...
But she didn’t. She disappeared inside, and the door shut behind them, leaving Thomas alone in the darkness.
He couldn’t ask her to continue loving him. If he cared for her at all, he’d pray for Gott to rinse him out of her heart completely. But he couldn’t pray for that for himself. He wanted to remember... Because in all his life, he’d never loved a woman like this.
Chapter Thirteen
Patience stood at the window in the laundry room and watched as Thomas disappeared into the darkness. The older folks wouldn’t look for her here—not at this time of night—and all she wanted right now was a moment or two to try to collect herself. She’d cry upstairs alone, but she’d have to pass the Kauffmans to get up there. She wrapped her arms around her waist, tears welling up inside her. She loved him... And it wouldn’t work. She’d never felt this way before. She’d had a few crushes, and had even accepted a proposal based on profound respect, but what she felt for Thomas was deeper and broader and cut much more sharply at the realization that it could never happen.
She realized now that falling in love with Thomas hadn’t been a choice—hadn’t even been avoidable. Whatever they felt for each other was something outside their ability to wisely sidestep. How was this fair? Gott asked them to walk the narrow path—to do right when the rest of the world took the easy way. And she was doing her best to do right—to put Rue and Rachel ahead of her own deepest desire. There should be some comfort in knowing she’d done the right thing, and yet all she could feel right now were the cracks in her heart.
“Patience, dear?”
Patience wiped her eyes and turned to see Hannah in the doorway. Hannah held a kerosene lamp, lighting up the laundry room in a cheery glow. Her plump figure was illuminated—an impeccably white apron against a gray dress. She squinted through her glasses.
“I’m sorry, Hannah, I’m just a little emotional,” Patience said. She turned away again, blinking back her tears.
“I’m sure that some pie would help,” Hannah said.
“Not this time,” Patience said, and she wiped at her cheeks again. “I’ll be fine.”
“Is that the Wiebe boy?” Hannah asked.
“Uh... He walked me home. It got dark faster than I thought, and—” She couldn’t lie, so she stopped. There was so much more to the story, but it was private.
“And you’ve had some sort of lover’s spat?” Hannah pressed.
How obvious had their relationship been? They’d done their best to hide it—especially at Sunday service.
“I was helping with Rue,” she said.
“And falling in love, I dare say,” Hannah replied.
“It’s not that—” It was so much more than that. “We’re not engaged. There’s no agreement between us...”
“Ah, but so much happens before those understandings, doesn’t it?” Hannah asked. “A heart gets entangled before any proposals come along. Come now. I know you want to go upstairs and have a cry, but I’m going to suggest something else that works much better. Come to my table and have a cry there. I’ll bring you some pie and we’ll talk it all out. It might not fix what’s gone wrong with your young man, but it will start the healing that much faster, I can tell you that.”
Patience paused to consider. Hannah seemed to understand a whole lot more than Patience even realized, and if she were at home with her own mamm right now, she’d likely do the same. Except, she and her mamm liked to take walks together—walking and talking, and sorting out all the things that seemed so impossible on her own.
Tears spilled down Patience’s cheeks,
