Moriah nodded curtly. “I knew you were.” She drug the back of her hand across her forehead. “And then, when Eugene died, were you happy? Relieved I wouldn’t have a husband after all?”
Noelle gasped. “No. Of course not. Why would you think that?”
Moriah shrugged. “Because you were so jealous before.”
Noelle feared she might dissolve into tears. “No wonder you’ve been so cold to me.”
“Jah. At first I was just numb. But as the first anniversary approaches, it all hit me again. And I felt so disconnected from you.”
Noelle had heard once that sin separates. She could see that. Her jealousy had put a wedge between her and Moriah. And that had led Moriah to believe that Noelle could actually find relief in Eugene’s death. “I’m so sorry.” Noelle grasped Mamm’s old rolling pin again as she spoke, as if she could find strength in it. “I found no joy in Eugene dying. My jealousy was from my own grief.” The thought made her ill. “Actually, from my own hurt pride that Jesse didn’t come back and embarrassment that I wouldn’t be marrying.”
“But you didn’t want him to come back.”
Noelle’s heart sank. “Barbara said she heard that too, but she couldn’t remember who told her. But I know I didn’t tell anyone that.”
“Mamm told me. She said you were done with Jesse. She told me and a few other women.”
“Like whom?”
“Well, Barbara . . . like you said.” Moriah’s face grew red. “Mamm said you were so mad at him you didn’t care if he ever returned.”
Noelle grasped the rolling pin again, bracing herself against the hollowness growing inside of her. “I don’t remember saying that. . . . It’s certainly not the way I felt.” Had she said something similar? Something that Salome could have misconstrued? She had been mad at Jesse for leaving—especially when she felt she needed him most.
A wave of nausea swept through Noelle. To think Salome told others Noelle didn’t care if Jesse ever returned—before he started dating the Englisch girl.
Noelle released the rolling pin and rubbed her hands on her apron. “I can’t remember what exactly I said about Jesse, but when he left, even though we’d fought over him leaving at all, I expected he would come home. I still expected we’d marry. That I’d spend the rest of my life with him.”
Moriah wiped her hands on her apron. “I’m so surprised to hear that. It’s not what people were talking about, not at all.”
It all made sense now. Noelle must have said something out of frustration, and Salome had misinterpreted it. She’d gossiped about what she didn’t understand. What a horrible combination, like a bad batch of yeast that caused the dough to fall flat and useless instead of rise.
Another wave of nausea swept through her. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Moriah and then hurried down the hall to the bathroom. After locking the door behind her, she couldn’t stop the tears as she sat on the edge of the tub. A sob shook her and then another.
Moriah knocked on the door. “Are you all right?”
“Jah,” Noelle managed to gasp. “I’ll be out in a minute.” Nothing was as she thought it was. Jesse hadn’t come back because he felt rejected, not because he’d rejected her. Not because he’d found someone who was more fun, more outgoing. But simply due to Salome’s gossip. Another round of sobs shook her.
But she had to take responsibility too. She shouldn’t have said anything to anyone, especially not Salome—she knew better. And she should have written Jesse a letter or, better yet, called him. She knew his wounds and his fears of being abandoned after his father died and his Mamm left.
She thought of him, alone in Montana. Feeling rejected. She couldn’t help but ache for him, for that young man from three years ago. If only she could reach out to him and tell him so.
Finally she composed herself and washed her face.
When she returned to the kitchen, Moriah shot her a concerned look. Noelle ducked her head and, with a heavy heart, grasped the rolling pin again and went to work on the pie dough.
It was her careless words that had done Jesse harm. Now she needed to apologize to him too.
Thursday morning as Noelle rode with Pamela to the market, they passed a windmill with its blades spinning wildly. Although there was now only a dusting of snow on the ground, it was bitter cold outside. And windy. Noelle felt as icy on the inside as the weather was on the outside.
She’d all but given up on Family Christmas. Jah, she and Dat had prayed, and she’d been determined to do what she could to find something. But nothing had come from their prayers. Or from her hopes.
The Advent verse she’d read that morning was Psalm 29:11. The LORD will give strength unto his people; the LORD will bless his people with peace. She didn’t feel peace about not having Family Christmas. Nor about Jesse. Could she feel joy if she felt no peace? Did she have enough faith that she’d be able to experience either?
When Noelle arrived at the market, Holly and Carlos helped carry in boxes while she wheeled the rest on the dolly. “Are you ready for a crazy day?” Holly asked.
“Jah.” If only she could do well enough to convince Salome that her new ideas could succeed.
As Noelle unpacked and placed her baked goods on the shelves, she snuck a glance at Jesse’s booth. But he wasn’t there. The man she’d seen the first day she’d worked at the market, the carpenter who’d hired Jesse, was setting up the merchandise.
Noelle’s heart lurched. Perhaps Jesse and Greta had returned to Montana already. Perhaps she’d missed her chance to apologize to him. If so, she’d need to write
