He watched as she moved to the door of the barn. He thought she might leave, until she picked up one of the old lanterns hanging on a peg near the door. She retrieved a match from the match holder bolted to the wall and lit it.
She walked toward him, her beautiful face illuminated by the soft yellow glow. “I want to see your face when you tell me, Josiah,” she said, moving closer to him. “And I want you to look at me. Because when you're finished telling me your secrets, I want you to see that I still love you.”
His throat hitched. Unconditional love. That was what she was offering him, even before she knew what he had done. He did not think he could love her any more than he did at that moment. But it would only take a few words from him to destroy what she felt for him.
“Things were bad when
Mamm
got sick,” he said, his memory sending him back to that terrible time when he had just turned twelve and he found out his mother had cancer. She had survived for almost a year before she succumbed. “
Daed
was angry all the time, especially when
Mamm
went into the hospital that last time. He'd always had a temper, but I never saw him raise a hand to her, ever. But . . .”
“He hit you?” She brought her hand to her mouth, her eyes widening. “Josiah, I had no idea.”
“No one did. He'd always say he was sorry afterward. And he really didn't do it all that often . . . usually when I broke a rule or didn't do my chores.”
“That's no reason to strike a child.”
“I know that now. But when
Mamm
got sick, he started smacking me harder. More often. Sometimes he'd bring me out here.” He glanced over his shoulder at the far corner of the barn, where the horse whip and stool remained. “He didn't always use his fists.”
“Josiah, that's awful.” Tears shimmered in her eyes.
“After
Mamm
passed,
Daed
just broke down. He stopped going to work, stopped caring about anything. He only spoke to me when I got in his way. After a while I avoided him as much as I could, and worked at my
onkel
's shop every chance I got. Pretty soon the only income we had came from the money I made working there. I resented him for that, and it wasn't long before we were arguing all the time.
“Then one day I came home from the shop, and
Daed
told me to pack my clothes, that we were leaving. He didn't tell me where, or why, just that we had to
geh
. We drove into Paradise and met a man who had arranged to buy our buggy and horse, and then he hired someone to take us to Indiana. He planned it all out and didn't tell me anything.” He paused and looked at her. “That's why I didn't tell you good-bye. I would have if I'd had the chance.”
“I know, Josiah.” She sniffed and wiped her cheek. “I never resented you for leaving. I just wished I had known what was going on.”
“What could you have done about it? No one knew what
Daed
did to me. He made sure not to leave any visible marks. I don't know if my
aenti
and
onkel
had any idea either. Besides, at that point I figured I deserved what I got.”
“How can you say that?”
“I was young; he was my dad. I believed him.” Josiah started to pace the width of the barn. “I could never do anything right. I was in the way. Everything was my fault.” He stopped and looked at Amanda. “You hear that enough, you begin to believe it's true.”
AMANDA COULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT JOSIAH HAD JUST TOLD her. How could she have lived next door to him all those years, been his best friend, and not known that his father abused him? But as more and more memories came to the front of her mind, she realized there were subtle signs. The fact that he never wanted to go near his barn. That the year after his mother died, he never invited her in his house. The underlying sadness she had attributed to grief over his mother's death.
“Did my parents know?” she asked, dread pooling in her belly. “Please tell me they didn't know.”
“I'm not sure. It doesn't matter anyway. They couldn't have done anything.”
“They could have confronted your
daed
! They could have gone to the bishop!” The lantern shook in her hand as she spoke.
“
Daed
would have just denied it. Besides, it would have made things worse for me.”
“I don't see how they could get any worse.”
“Trust me, Amanda. It did.”
Her arms ached to hold him. She couldn't stand thinking about what he had suffered at the hands of his own father, and she could see by the tortured look in his eyes that he was reliving those memories.
“When we got to Indiana, we didn't know anyone. I think
Daed
thought the move would give us a fresh start. For a time things were okay. He got a job working in one of the RV factories there, and I did some odd jobs for some of the Amish and
Englisch
that lived near us. He bought a small trailer, and we moved in. At least he stopped hitting me for a while. But that didn't last very long. A couple years later he started drinking. A lot, which made his temper worse.”
“Oh no,” Amanda whispered.
“I was almost seventeen and ready to move out anyway. I was sick of him yelling at me and smacking me around, and I had made some friends with a few
Englisch
guys. I moved in with them for a couple years. I tried living their fancy lifestyleâI even bought a carâbut it wasn't for me. By this time my
daed
had drunk himself sick.” Josiah went and sat on one of the hay bales, his shoulders drooping. “I ended up having to take care of him.”
Amanda went to him and sat down, letting the handle of the lantern dangle from her fingers. “Josiah, why didn't you get in touch with me?”
He looked at her with a sad smile. “You couldn't fix this, Amanda. Although I have no doubt you would have tried.”
“What happened to your father?”
“He died when I was twenty-two. He got drunk one night, and on his way to the bathroom he tripped and fell. Hit his head against the corner of his dresser. When I found him, he was dead.”
“Josiah, I'm so sorry.”
“I'm not.” He stared straight ahead. “At least a part of me isn't. I didn't recognize him anymore. He wasn't my father by that point.”
She reached for his hand, but he moved. “Josiah, don't pull away from me. Not now.”
“I'm not finished. What I didn't tell you is that I not only didn't recognize my father anymore, I didn't recognize myself.”
“What do you mean?”
He popped up from the bale. “I'm just like him, Amanda. Sometimes I get so angry I can feel it boiling inside my veins, running through my body. My temper is just as bad as his.”
“But you're not him, Josiah. You would never hurt anyone.”
“That's where you're wrong. I know how important it is for the Amish to be peaceful. To swallow their anger and turn the other cheek. Even though I didn't see that with my father, I understood that controlling those impulses is a basic tenet of the faith. And that's the problem. I can't control them.” He looked at her, and she saw the shame in his eyes. “I hit my
daed
, Amanda. And not just once, either. We didn't just argue, we fought.”
Amanda shut her eyes against what he had just revealed. She could barely fathom that gentle Josiah, the boy who wouldn't even step on a spider or squash a bug, would ever hit another person, much less his own father. Yet she couldn't doubt his words either.
“Now you see why I can't stay here. Why I keep pushing you away. Why I can't marry.” He squatted down on the floor and held his head in his hands. “I can't risk hurting anyone else.”
Heat emanated from the lantern, so she set it on the floor of the barn, well away from the hay bales and anything else that might catch fire. Tentatively she knelt down and put her arm around his shoulders, glad when he didn't pull away. “Josiah, listen to me. Everyone gets angry.”
He looked up at her, his gaze narrowing. “Don't patronize me, Amanda. I know everyone gets angry. The difference is they can control it. I can't.”
“With the Lord's help you can.”
“The Lord's help?” He let out a bitter laugh, then sat on the ground, slipping out from beneath her embrace. “God abandoned me long ago.”
“God is faithful, Josiah. He would never abandon us.”
“Easy for you to say. Your
mamm
didn't die and your
daed
didn't beat you on a regular basis.”
Amanda cringed, properly chastised. “I suppose it does sound like a platitude. I didn't live your life, and I can see where you might doubt God's presence.” She said a silent prayer for the Lord to give her the right words before she continued. “But, Josiah, He was with you. You had to have amazing inner strength to survive what you did. That type of strength comes from God.”
“I did what I had to do.” He looked at her. “I'm still doing what I have to.” He rose from the floor and retrieved his hat, then put it on. “I've told you everything, the whole sorry story.”
She stood and faced him. “I know. And I'm still here.”
He looked at her for a long moment, a myriad of emotions crossing his features. Shame. Anguish. And for a fleeting instance, hope. Then his expression hardened. “
Geh
home, Amanda. Forget we ever had this conversation.”
“I can't just forget what you told me, Josiah.”
“You have to. I'll be gone soon, once the house is sold.”
“You think running away is going to fix everything? That didn't work out so well for your
daed,
did it? You can't keep running from the past, or from God. You'll never be free if you do.”
“Maybe I don't deserve to be free. I hit my own
daed
, Amanda. What kind of
sohn
does that?”
“A
sohn
who was abandoned by his
vatter
, and who thought everyone else had abandoned him too.”
He didn't look convinced. “I know you want to fix this, Amanda. To fix me. But you can't.”
“Oh, I know I can't. Only God can do that.” She reached for his hand, squeezing tightly when she sensed him pulling away. “I want to pray for you, Josiah. Will you let me do that much?”
Pain like he'd never experienced welled up inside him. He had thought, or at least sincerely hoped, that when he had confessed everything to Amanda, she would leave him alone. But he should have known better. Amanda Graber never knew an underdog she couldn't champion or a lost cause she wouldn't support. She just couldn't understand he wasn't worth saving.
That thought had hit home when she had admitted she loved him. The words lifted up his heart while crushing his soul. Other than his mother, and for a short while his uncle, Amanda had been the only good thing in his life. Then when he moved, when she had been taken away from him, he knew God had written him off. Somehow he'd managed to go through the motions of life since then, not feeling much of anything except rage at his father, a rage he had expressed with his fists, just like his
daed
. He'd only punched his
daed
twice, but the look of shock and betrayal on Levi Bontrager's face was permanently stamped on Josiah's memory.
Why couldn't she see how dangerous he was? Even if he could afford to entertain the thought of a future with her, she could never trust that he wouldn't lose his temper with her or their children. Yet she stood strong, wanting to pray for him. “It won't do any
gut
,” he muttered, knowing if he refused she would persist until he gave in.
“I think you'll be surprised at how much
gut
it will do.” She gripped his hand and bowed her head. The words of her prayer skimmed over him, having little effect on his emotions or his opinion of himself. When she finished, she looked up at him, her eyes consumed with anticipation.
Her hand felt so soft and warm in his, he never wanted to let go. But he did. “It's late, Amanda. You need to get home.”
She'd obviously expected some kind of miracle from her little prayer. He knew from experience that prayer didn't work. He'd said enough prayers after his mother became ill to last a lifetime.
“All right, I'll
geh
.” She started for the door, only to turn around and rush toward him.
She threw her arms around him, drawing him against her. “This isn't the end, Josiah,” she whispered in his ear. Her embrace tightened. “I still love you. God loves you too. One day you'll believe both of us.” She released him, then turned and fled.
He stood in the center of the dusty barn, his arms slightly lifted. He realized he had been about to return her embrace. Although her hug had been brief, her warmth had flowed straight through him, and he ached to hold her again.
Tater whinnied, pulling him out of his stupor. The horse had been amazingly quiet during his conversation with Amanda. Weariness suddenly overcame him, both emotional and physical. He wanted to fall into bed and try to get this entire evening out of his mind.
But as he headed for the house, he realized that wouldn't happen. He couldn't put Amanda's reaction out of his mind. She truly believed in God's faithfulness, and a part of him wished he had her conviction.
Sleep didn't come easily to Amanda that night. She tossed and turned, her emotions somersaulting as she tried to process everything Josiah had told her. She felt so clueless, so sheltered. Were there others in their community suffering the same fate as Josiah? Would she be able to tell if they were?
Unable to rest, she left her bed, walked to the window, and opened it. From here she had a clear view of Josiah's house, although a large oak tree that stood between the two properties partially obscured the barn. The lights were out in his house, and she wondered if he was already asleep.