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Authors: Shelley Shepard Gray
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simply spending time together.”
As the women started discussing Will and Gwen, and a few other new couples in their community, Mattie closed her eyes and pretended to fall asleep.
It was too hard to sit and smile . . . realizing that she might never be like Gwen.
If the chemotherapy didn’t work, or her cancer came back . . . she would never be thinking about a man of her own.
J ohn didn’t regret passing on the walk with Calvin, Lucy, and Katie in the slightest. Though he loved their company, it had been a long while since he’d spent so much time in the constant company of others. A little privacy was no problem.
And, for that matter, he didn’t necessarily think Calvin and Lucy were going to miss his presence all that much anyway. There was something going on between them—he was certain of that.
Even if they both seemed to be oblivious to those sparks.
After getting a cold drink, he found a quiet table and opened up his laptop. In no time, he was surfing the web, reading e-mails, and catching up on Facebook. As he read different posts, he replied to a few, clicked “like” for a couple others.
And then he spied Angela’s picture.
His ex-wife. He hadn’t heard from her in years, hadn’t thought about her in years. And now, not only had he been thinking about her on the train, but here she was, posting about a new puppy she was training to be a guide dog.
John’s fingers hovered over the keys. Every nerve inside him screamed to ignore her profile picture. To not revisit his past.
But, unable to resist the temptation of seeing her again, he clicked on the photo anyway.
Her dark eyes staring back at him brought forth another rush of memories. Oh, why did she still have to be so pretty? Like a starving man, he scanned her profile information. Noticed that she was married. Had two children.
Obviously nothing ever stayed the same.
He remembered their many arguments about their future. Time and again, she’d pushed off his talk about having a baby one day. All she’d ever wanted was a pretty house and the freedom to shop and do as she pleased—without her family’s suffocating closeness.
Though he hadn’t understood her need to distance herself from her parents, especially when they’d helped him so much, John had ached to make her happy. So, he’d never said a word when she insisted they stop visiting her family for Sunday dinner.
When she’d teased him about his Amish ways, he worked even harder to fit into the English world. He stopped talking about things that were important to him and worked hard. He’d bought her the things she said she wanted.
But, eventually, those things had not been enough.
And then his lack of education hadn’t been enough.
And then, one day, she’d told him that he hadn’t been enough.
All of a sudden, the pain of her rejection stung him as if it had just happened. Not years ago. Feeling frustrated with himself, he quickly shut down his computer and put it away.
He should have known better. It was hard enough to go back to Jacob’s Crossing—the last thing he needed was to spend more time on his failings with Angela, too.
After fishing out his book, he gave all his attention to the mystery. Yes, it was far better to concentrate on this story than his past. Or his future.
Or on how sometimes he felt sure Angela had been exactly right—he wasn’t enough, and he never would be.
Chapter 8
“M attie, are you all right?” her mother asked through the bathroom door. “You’ve been in there quite some time.”
Struggling for patience, Mattie replied, “I’m fine. I just wanted to get cleaned up.”
“Oh. Well, yes. I suppose it was a verra long day. Do you need help getting dressed?”
“ Nee . I can still dress myself, Mamm,” she said sharply. More sharply than she had intended.
“I know you can. I just thought you might need—”
“I don’t.” Mattie could hear her mother’s feet shuffling a bit, like she was trying to walk away
As the women started discussing Will and Gwen, and a few other new couples in their community, Mattie closed her eyes and pretended to fall asleep.
It was too hard to sit and smile . . . realizing that she might never be like Gwen.
If the chemotherapy didn’t work, or her cancer came back . . . she would never be thinking about a man of her own.
J ohn didn’t regret passing on the walk with Calvin, Lucy, and Katie in the slightest. Though he loved their company, it had been a long while since he’d spent so much time in the constant company of others. A little privacy was no problem.
And, for that matter, he didn’t necessarily think Calvin and Lucy were going to miss his presence all that much anyway. There was something going on between them—he was certain of that.
Even if they both seemed to be oblivious to those sparks.
After getting a cold drink, he found a quiet table and opened up his laptop. In no time, he was surfing the web, reading e-mails, and catching up on Facebook. As he read different posts, he replied to a few, clicked “like” for a couple others.
And then he spied Angela’s picture.
His ex-wife. He hadn’t heard from her in years, hadn’t thought about her in years. And now, not only had he been thinking about her on the train, but here she was, posting about a new puppy she was training to be a guide dog.
John’s fingers hovered over the keys. Every nerve inside him screamed to ignore her profile picture. To not revisit his past.
But, unable to resist the temptation of seeing her again, he clicked on the photo anyway.
Her dark eyes staring back at him brought forth another rush of memories. Oh, why did she still have to be so pretty? Like a starving man, he scanned her profile information. Noticed that she was married. Had two children.
Obviously nothing ever stayed the same.
He remembered their many arguments about their future. Time and again, she’d pushed off his talk about having a baby one day. All she’d ever wanted was a pretty house and the freedom to shop and do as she pleased—without her family’s suffocating closeness.
Though he hadn’t understood her need to distance herself from her parents, especially when they’d helped him so much, John had ached to make her happy. So, he’d never said a word when she insisted they stop visiting her family for Sunday dinner.
When she’d teased him about his Amish ways, he worked even harder to fit into the English world. He stopped talking about things that were important to him and worked hard. He’d bought her the things she said she wanted.
But, eventually, those things had not been enough.
And then his lack of education hadn’t been enough.
And then, one day, she’d told him that he hadn’t been enough.
All of a sudden, the pain of her rejection stung him as if it had just happened. Not years ago. Feeling frustrated with himself, he quickly shut down his computer and put it away.
He should have known better. It was hard enough to go back to Jacob’s Crossing—the last thing he needed was to spend more time on his failings with Angela, too.
After fishing out his book, he gave all his attention to the mystery. Yes, it was far better to concentrate on this story than his past. Or his future.
Or on how sometimes he felt sure Angela had been exactly right—he wasn’t enough, and he never would be.
Chapter 8
“M attie, are you all right?” her mother asked through the bathroom door. “You’ve been in there quite some time.”
Struggling for patience, Mattie replied, “I’m fine. I just wanted to get cleaned up.”
“Oh. Well, yes. I suppose it was a verra long day. Do you need help getting dressed?”
“ Nee . I can still dress myself, Mamm,” she said sharply. More sharply than she had intended.
“I know you can. I just thought you might need—”
“I don’t.” Mattie could hear her mother’s feet shuffling a bit, like she was trying to walk away
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