Page 8 of Unforgiven

He pretended not to notice.

Carefully she poured two mugs of cider. “Well, um, here you go. Hot cider.” Looking a little unsure, she added, “Do you want to sit at the table?”

He’d just noticed the filled canvas bags on the floor as well as a giant bag of flour. “What is all this?”

“Groceries. My sister and her boys stop by once a month. They left a few moments before you arrived.”

“Want me to help you put them away?”

“Nee. It will give me something to do later.” She carried the mugs to the table.

“All right, then.” He followed and sat down across from her.

“Oh! I forgot.” In a flash she was on her feet again, fluttering around the kitchen like a scared bird.

Tabitha pulled a plate out of a cabinet, opened a pie safe, and sliced a piece of apple pie. Despite how he was fairly sure he didn’t like spiced cider, he sipped his drink, needing something to do as he attempted to come to terms with her generosity. It was hot and a bit too sweet but not awful.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he murmured when she set the plate and a fork in front of him.

“You’ve been bringing me meat and produce for months. You’ve split most of my wood. I don’t think a slice of pie is too much to give in return.”

True. “Perhaps not.”

He closed his eyes and silently gave thanks. It was their way. And even though he was no longer Amish, he still found comfort in giving thanks to the Lord for His gifts.

When he opened his eyes again, he found her watching him from across the table. “Do you still pray before meals too?”

“Sometimes.”

“It’s hard to give up, ain’t so?”

“I have no need to stop.” Her voice lowered. “I understand why I had to leave the order. Marriage is a sacred vow before the Lord and the community. I know some couples whose marriages fail choose to separate and live apart, but that didn’t feel right to me. I felt as if I had no choice. I didn’t want any ties to Leon.”

“I understand.” He tentatively took another sip.

“Do you? Some women came here soon after I told the bishop about my divorce lawyer.”

“What did they say?”

She looked down at her untouched drink. “About what you’d imagine. They reminded me of my marriage vows.”

“I was in prison, but I still heard about how badly you were beaten. It wasn’t the first time, was it?”

Those eyes, so soft and vulnerable, met his again. “It wasn’t even the worst,” she whispered. “But I still lost my baby.”

“You did what you had to do, Tabitha. Even if folks here in Crittenden County don’t understand, I do. I think God does too.”

Tabitha curved her hands around her mug but still didn’t take a sip. “I hope He does. I made my peace with His will some time ago. I decided that no matter what, I’ll have to face my Maker one day, but until then I have to live on this earth. I couldn’t live like that anymore.”

Seth had never imagined he was a kind person. Certainly not sensitive. He had no experience hugging children or holding a woman in his arms while she cried. But at that moment, he wanted to hold her hand. That was it. Simply hold her hand in between his two work-roughened ones. Give her a bit of contact. Give her a reminder that she wasn’t alone in this world. Nee, remind her that she wasn’t going to have to wait until death to find comfort.

“You haven’t tried the pie.”

He couldn’t help but grin at that. “And you haven’t tried the cider.”

Her eyes brightened as she brought the earthenware cup to her lips and sipped while he took a bite.

Just as he’d imagined, it was delicious. The crust was flaky and light while the filling was cold and tart and sweet. Cinnamon teased his tongue.

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