Ruh,
Schliesse meine Augen zu;
Vater lass die Augen dein,
Über meine Bette sein.
Ja, Jesus liebt mich,
Ja, Jesus liebt mich,
Ja, Jesus liebt mich;
Die Bibel sagt mir so.”
Ellie drifted off to sleep somewhere before the chorus. Marianna’s heart expanded in her chest and she sang it again, this time for herself. The Bible meant so much more to her now. Its truth filled her with warm hope.
“Tired am I, go now to rest,
And close my eyes;
Father, let Thine Eyes
Watch over my bed.
Yes, Jesus loves me,
Yes, Jesus loves me,
Yes, Jesus loves me,
The Bible tells me so.”
Dear Rebecca,
Thank you for your short note. It made me laugh at your description of the cows passing on news with their moos, and the horses their neighs. As fast as word about Aaron’s accident and stay is traveling around the Indiana community, I wish we could blame it on the cows and horses. But I know some of the church ladies too well. They need no help in getting the word out!
You ask how I’m doing with Aaron here—if I’m able to sleep at night due to his closeness. I’m not sleeping as well as I used to. Aaron’s taken my room and I’m sharing a bed with Ellie. For a small thing she sure takes up a lot of room! Part of me is happy to have Aaron close. It makes me consider more what it would be like to be married to him. Another part of me feels like something has been robbed. For so long my imagination has built up what it would be like to live so closely with someone. Reality isn’t nearly as fanciful as my imagination. Is that bad?
To answer your question, Aaron and I have not talked about dating or marriage since he’s been here. Right now we’re just concentrating on getting him better. He’s concerned about getting home and checking on his house and herd. I don’t blame him.
There is much more I want to tell you, but I can’t do it justice in a letter. Just know that I’m planning on coming back to Indiana some day, and then I can tell you face to face.
What I can tell you . . . I’ve found God in new ways here. I feel so alive. Rebecca, I have a feeling you would never look to the world again for happiness if you experienced what my soul knows now.
Love,
Marianna
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ben drove down the mountain, his eyes focused on his headlights illuminating the road. This time of year the sky darkened at 5:00 p.m., and though it was only 9 o’clock it seemed like the middle of the night. He knew the way to Roy’s place by heart. His first summer in Montana he’d spent weekends there—still trying to bridge his old life with his new one. After he’d returned to Montana to stay for good, he hadn’t visited his old friend much. Yet he’d be welcome. Even more than a good friend, Roy had been a great business manager. Though Roy had sold his house in L.A. and bought a large place in Montana, he still had his finger in the business.
Ben pulled off the main road onto the long driveway. The tall iron gates were open. In Los Angeles, Roy couldn’t give his address out. If he did, dozens of wannabe musicians would be lining up outside or ringing the doorbell all hours of the day and night. In Montana, all Roy had to fear was a black bear breaking in and getting into his trash. Montana was a great neutralizer. People were just people here, important or not.
He parked his old truck next to the shiny Suburban in the driveway and jumped out. The pavement had been cleared all the way to the front door, and Ben guessed the guy who did maintenance around Roy’s house got paid more than most folks up in West Kootenai.
A front porch light lit the tall front door made of solid wood. Ben rung the doorbell, even though it wasn’t necessary. From Roy’s media room he had a camera on the front door. With one push of a button, Roy could open the door.
Sure enough, after five seconds the door swung open. Ben stepped inside, closed it behind him, and looked to the curved stairway that led up to the second story.
Schliesse meine Augen zu;
Vater lass die Augen dein,
Über meine Bette sein.
Ja, Jesus liebt mich,
Ja, Jesus liebt mich,
Ja, Jesus liebt mich;
Die Bibel sagt mir so.”
Ellie drifted off to sleep somewhere before the chorus. Marianna’s heart expanded in her chest and she sang it again, this time for herself. The Bible meant so much more to her now. Its truth filled her with warm hope.
“Tired am I, go now to rest,
And close my eyes;
Father, let Thine Eyes
Watch over my bed.
Yes, Jesus loves me,
Yes, Jesus loves me,
Yes, Jesus loves me,
The Bible tells me so.”
Dear Rebecca,
Thank you for your short note. It made me laugh at your description of the cows passing on news with their moos, and the horses their neighs. As fast as word about Aaron’s accident and stay is traveling around the Indiana community, I wish we could blame it on the cows and horses. But I know some of the church ladies too well. They need no help in getting the word out!
You ask how I’m doing with Aaron here—if I’m able to sleep at night due to his closeness. I’m not sleeping as well as I used to. Aaron’s taken my room and I’m sharing a bed with Ellie. For a small thing she sure takes up a lot of room! Part of me is happy to have Aaron close. It makes me consider more what it would be like to be married to him. Another part of me feels like something has been robbed. For so long my imagination has built up what it would be like to live so closely with someone. Reality isn’t nearly as fanciful as my imagination. Is that bad?
To answer your question, Aaron and I have not talked about dating or marriage since he’s been here. Right now we’re just concentrating on getting him better. He’s concerned about getting home and checking on his house and herd. I don’t blame him.
There is much more I want to tell you, but I can’t do it justice in a letter. Just know that I’m planning on coming back to Indiana some day, and then I can tell you face to face.
What I can tell you . . . I’ve found God in new ways here. I feel so alive. Rebecca, I have a feeling you would never look to the world again for happiness if you experienced what my soul knows now.
Love,
Marianna
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ben drove down the mountain, his eyes focused on his headlights illuminating the road. This time of year the sky darkened at 5:00 p.m., and though it was only 9 o’clock it seemed like the middle of the night. He knew the way to Roy’s place by heart. His first summer in Montana he’d spent weekends there—still trying to bridge his old life with his new one. After he’d returned to Montana to stay for good, he hadn’t visited his old friend much. Yet he’d be welcome. Even more than a good friend, Roy had been a great business manager. Though Roy had sold his house in L.A. and bought a large place in Montana, he still had his finger in the business.
Ben pulled off the main road onto the long driveway. The tall iron gates were open. In Los Angeles, Roy couldn’t give his address out. If he did, dozens of wannabe musicians would be lining up outside or ringing the doorbell all hours of the day and night. In Montana, all Roy had to fear was a black bear breaking in and getting into his trash. Montana was a great neutralizer. People were just people here, important or not.
He parked his old truck next to the shiny Suburban in the driveway and jumped out. The pavement had been cleared all the way to the front door, and Ben guessed the guy who did maintenance around Roy’s house got paid more than most folks up in West Kootenai.
A front porch light lit the tall front door made of solid wood. Ben rung the doorbell, even though it wasn’t necessary. From Roy’s media room he had a camera on the front door. With one push of a button, Roy could open the door.
Sure enough, after five seconds the door swung open. Ben stepped inside, closed it behind him, and looked to the curved stairway that led up to the second story.
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