The Forgiven by Marta Perry Page B

when they said you’d certain-sure turn Englisch.”
    â€œNo, they had it right all along.” Clearly she wasn’t going to be satisfied unless he explained a bit more. “I think my folks thought moving out west and meeting the challenge of a new place would be enough to settle me down. Maybe it did, for a time, but eventually . . . well, I guess I was just born wanting to see what lay over the next ridge.” He glanced toward the ever-present ridge that guarded Brook Hill.
    â€œHow did you get along out there among the Englisch?” She made it sound far away, even dangerous.
    He shrugged, aware of how close she was. Near enough that if he moved his hand, he’d bridge the gap between them. “It wasn’t as bad for me as it is for some fence-jumpers. I’d been apprenticed to a furniture maker, so I had a trade I could turn to. I did okay.”
    â€œBut you still came back to the faith eventually.” There was a question in the words, and it was one Matt had no intention of answering.
    â€œI realized I didn’t really fit in anywhere else. At heart, I will always be Amish.” He let a little impatience creep into his voice, afraid if she asked more he might reveal too much. Rebecca was just too easy to talk to, with her sweet face and innocent eyes. “Why is my life story important to whether or not you rent the building to me?”
    She nodded, as if to accept the implied rebuke. “I just want to be sure you wouldn’t turn the stable into a workshop and then up and leave.”
    â€œI wouldn’t.”
    Again he sensed the struggle in her, and he knew he had to say something more to reassure her.
    â€œLook, Rebecca, I’m ready to make a permanent change in my life, and coming back to where I started is my choice. I can’t prove my commitment to you. I’m afraid you’ll just have to accept it. Or not.”
    Rebecca’s expression seemed to grow still, and he had the fanciful feeling that his words had struck an echo in her. After what seemed a long moment, she nodded. “All right.” She gave a small nod. “We have a deal. You can start moving in as soon as you want to.”
    He turned toward her, his hand braced against the back of the swing so that it nearly touched her shoulder. “Denke, Rebecca. You won’t regret it.”
    He’d like to say he promised, but experience had taught him that making promises was a dangerous thing to do.
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    Rebecca stood by the lane watching until Matt’s buggy disappeared behind the trees along the road. Was she doing the right thing? She could only pray she wouldn’t regret this decision.
    She’d been on the verge of saying no. And then Matt had said something about changing his life, making a fresh start. She’d been irresistibly reminded of the promise she’d made to Grossmammi about reacting positively to life’s changes, and she’d been caught.
    Well, having Matt working in the stable that she still thought of as Paul’s would certainly be one of those changes, and she’d just have to do her best to welcome it.
    Thoughts of supper stirred in her mind, and she went up the three steps to the porch, unable to prevent herself from looking at the bell as she passed it. Her stomach had lurched when Matt had brushed against it, and at just the thought, she felt the sensation again.
    She reached up, her fingertips touching the cool metal. She and Paul had been moving the last few things into the farmhouse when she’d come outside and found him attaching the bell to the roof of the porch.
    â€œWhatever are you doing?” She’d looked up at him, laughing a little at the sight of him teetering on a chair to fasten the bracket.
    â€œI’m putting the final touch to our new home.” He stepped down lightly. “Every farmhouse has to have a bell. How else will you call me for