Free Along Wooded Paths by Tricia Goyer Page A

anything they’d continue deep into the night, the angry words building with each breath. They hadn’t fought that way in years, but he’d never forget how things used to be when they first got married. She’d always try to justify her actions, his anger would build, and soon they’d both be shouting. Thankfully they’d mellowed over the years. By the time Ruth was pregnant with Marianna, they’d been happy. After the death of the girls they struggled with their loss. Sometimes together—more often alone. He saw something else in Ruth’s gaze after that night that he didn’t understand. Guilt. As if their daughters’ deaths were her fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it was his. He was the one who fell asleep before the crossing.
    Abe hadn’t seen Ruth’s blameful look in a while, and he was thankful. That’s why he knew he needed to drop this whole issue with Aaron’s surprise visit. He let out a low breath, telling himself that wasn’t what got him all riled up in the first place. It was Ben’s question that made him angry.
    Would non-Amish go to heaven? Didn’t Ben know that wasn’t for Abe to decide? Men could not decide the fate of other men. That was up to God alone.
    Yet the more Abe thought, the more he realized what Ben was really asking: “Am I good enough for your daughter?” Ben loved God, that was clear. He cared for others. He read God’s Word. Yet deep down in Abe’s heart, the answer was “no.”
    Ben was not good enough for Marianna.
    And that’s what bothered him. Because by making this distinction, he was doing the judging.
    He was setting himself up as God.

CHAPTER TEN

    The next day at work Marianna was in the office, looking for more labels for their packages of bread when Annie looked up from her computer and cleared her throat. Marianna grabbed up the labels and turned, looking to Annie. She wore a long blonde ponytail like she always did, and though the wrinkles on her face hinted she was older, the youthful brightness in her eyes made her beautiful.
    “Marianna, there’s something I want to show you. I hope you won’t be mad.”
    “Mad at you?” Marianna smiled. “I don’t think that’s possible. What is it?”
    “Remember this summer at the auction? A friend of mine offered to take some photographs for me. She’s building a Web site for my store and I wanted to post them online. She gave me the original prints to look through.”
    Marianna furrowed her brow. Whatever Annie talked about had to do with the computer. It meant nothing to her, so how could it make her mad? Marianna looked at the photos spread on the desk in front of Annie. There was a photo of the Miller’s gas-powered ice cream maker. There were many photos of quilts. And one photo of three Amish girls sitting on a bench. From the back all you could see were their dresses and kapps.
    “One of the things my friend found interesting was the interaction between the Amish and Englisch. She got some great shots.” Annie held up a photo of an Amish girl, who Marianna recognized as one of the Shelter kids, handing an ice cream cone to a teenage boy with numerous tattoos and piercings on his face. “My friend’s from Kalispell—not here. She didn’t understand about Amish not liking to have their pictures taken, especially their faces . . .”
    Marianna put her hands on the desk. Oh . . .
    “Do ya have a photo of me?” She leaned forward, scanning her eyes across the desk.
    “Yes, it’s one of my favorites too.” Annie reached into the envelope and pulled out a photo. “I wasn’t going to use it on my Web site—you know, as a way to honor you.”
    Marianna took a step forward. “May I see?”
    Annie held it up. “Yes, of course.”
    Marianna took the photograph from Annie’s hands, and for the briefest second thought Annie had been mistaken. Studying it closer, Marianna realized the beautiful Amish girl in the photograph was her.
    She tilted her head. She’d never seen herself in such a way.