Maybe it was freedoms; maybe he had lost his faith in God—Levi had no idea, though there had to be something. But he couldn’t think of anything that would make him leave his wife and child.
Not when he would do anything to have them back.
He flipped to the other side, but in the darkness the view was no different, and it wasn’t any more comfortable. It had nothing to do with the bed, his pillow, or the sound of the tiny ice pellets hitting the glass panes of the window next to his bed. It had everything to do with the woman upstairs.
He wasn’t being fair to her. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. But his feelings were powerful. It cost him dearly to give her one of Mary’s dresses to wear. And it shouldn’t have. Mary was gone. She couldn’t wear it anymore. Tillie was here and she needed it. But offering it to her was like pouring salt in the wound.
Lord, give me strength. Stand with me. Amen.
He said the prayer even though it had been a while since God had answered any of his requests. Maybe that was the problem. He was asking too much. Or maybe it was just that he was asking. Every man knew there was a time when you gave, you gave to the Lord. And there were times when you received. Apparently this was one of his giving times.
That’s not what he wanted this to be about. He didn’t want his life to feel like a chore, like a sacrifice to God.
Lord, give me strength, he prayed again.
Maybe if he asked for time . . .
Levi closed his eyes, only then aware that he had opened them again. Every little sound disturbed him. Puddles was in the kitchen next to the potbellied stove, where she had been sleeping these last few days. She was warm, and her puppies were still safe inside. And if she went to whelp in the house, it would just be another mess to clean. But the little cattle dog puppies would be warm and safe. The woman upstairs had a dry dress. She had a warm blanket, a soft bed, and a pillow to cushion her head. He had provided her a roof over her head and shelter from the storm. There was nothing more he could give her.
His animals in the barn were stabled. They had hay and water and everything they needed as the ice fell outside. So why did he feel like there was something more? Why did he feel like there was something he had forgotten?
* * *
Tillie woke in the middle of the night with a start. Somehow she had drifted off to sleep without being aware of doing so. But the thought that had awakened her was of her family. She had just walked out. She hadn’t told anyone where she was going. At the time she hadn’t known. And she certainly hadn’t predicted ending up at Levi Yoder’s house. She had simply started walking. But no one at her house knew where she was. As if her mother didn’t have enough to worry about. Truth be known, Eunice Gingerich was something of a worrywart. But Tillie knew her mother just loved her children. She wanted them safe—wanted her children and her grandchildren safe from harm.
They had been in the middle of the Christmas celebration. The middle of the family party filled with games and laughter. And Tillie had walked out. She was certain they knew she was gone now just as she was certain that the ice falling here was falling there. No one would find her until tomorrow. No one would know where she was. Her mother would worry unnecessarily. And there was no one to blame but Tillie.
She had always been impulsive. The nature of impulse had led her to where she was today. Impulsively she had left her family behind. Impulsively she had thought her relationship with Melvin was secure enough to break the rules she’d been taught her entire life. Impulsively she had left him and come home. And impulsively she was now stranded at Levi Yoder’s.
She could feel the anxiety building in her chest. She’d never meant to worry her family. And she hoped and prayed that they weren’t beside themselves wondering where she was. But she knew that wasn’t the case. She hoped no one got out in the messy weather to look for her. Surely they would figure out that she had found shelter. But even with that thought, the anxiety built until she felt like there were bricks on her chest. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm the rising panic inside her.
But her breath caught as her side twinged again. This time harder, this time straight across. It went from left to right and felt like someone was tearing her in half.
Calm down, she told herself. She just needed to calm down. All this anxiety, all this panic, all this worry was doing nothing but upsetting the baby. Mammi Glick would tell her that she would give the poor child a birthmark worse than the mark of Cain if she wasn’t careful, if she didn’t stop worrying. So she tried again, pulling in a breath, shorter this time. It wasn’t pain-free, but at least it didn’t send fire across her body.
She turned onto her other side. Most of the pain was gone now, just a tight feeling and a lingering throb. It was hours till dawn and a few more until she would be able to let her family know that
