The Bridge of Peace by Cindy Woodsmall Read Free Book Online Page A

to her Daed, and he’d not stopped searching for it yet.
    Aaron stepped between them. “ Kumm .” He motioned Lena to the door. “Keep the watch. But it’d be good if you didn’t come back here again. I’ll see to it the bull stays out of that field, okay?”
    “Denki, Aaron.” Clutching her Daed’s watch, she went to her carriage.

Five
    Grey walked out of his bedroom at the same time Elsie walked out of hers. Startled and a bit curious what had kept her in her room past daylight, he stopped in his tracks. They stood in their small hallway, staring at each other under the soft glow of early morn. His shirt was not yet buttoned, and his suspenders were attached to his pants and dangling near his knees. She stood as erect and graceful as a deer when watching for danger. Each part of her clothing was tended to as perfectly as women did on their wedding day.
    Sing for me, Grey . The memory of their earlier years echoed inside the emptiness of who they now were.
    She lowered her gaze. “May I fix you breakfast?”
    The question came at him most mornings, as if she were giving him a choice. It didn’t matter that he hated breakfast. A wife cooked each meal for her family. At one time he’d thought it was her way of showing respect, maybe even love, but he knew better now.
    “Ya.”
    While she moved about the kitchen, he sat at the table, reading the newspaper.

    Saturday. Regardless of what he did to use up the day, Saturdays were a reminder of the emptiness between them. The aroma of bacon frying filled the room. Sunlight and cool air streamed in through the open windows. He and Elsie were in the same room, about to sit at the same table. Those things made it look and smell as if normal life went on inside this house.
    The clock ticked louder by the minute, telling him time was moving, and yet he wasn’t. He and Elsie were in the same place they’d been for at least three years. With each week and month that passed, he was getting farther and farther from all chance of contentment. He’d let go of wanting happiness quite a while ago. But life was too long to live it like this, wasn’t it? He closed his newspaper and set it to the side. “Any plans for today?”
    “Usual. You?”
    The morning begged to be enjoyed, and he knew what they needed to do. “I’m taking Ivan fishing. Would you like to go?”
    “There’s work to be done.”
    “There always is, and it’ll still be waitin’ after we’ve caught a few fish.”
    Cracking another raw egg into a bowl, she shook her head. She beat the eggs mercilessly with the whisk, but one would have to know her well to notice the slight, sharp movements as she dumped them into the pan and set the glass bowl firmly, but not too loudly, into the sink. She didn’t let her movements reflect too much emotion. If she did, he could point it out and try to get her to open up.
    She’d held her silence for years, never saying what really ailed her. Her complaints ranged from not liking the way he breathed to not understanding how he could get so dirty during a workday. If he dared to hum, she’d walk out. But, contrary to how he’d felt over the last few years, he wasn’t a fool. When one person picked apart everything about another, the things being mentioned weren’t really the problem. They were the side effects.
    He understood the grief that had captured her when she gave birth to a stillborn son. He’d mourned the loss deeply, but it’d been three years since then. Did that painful time still cling to her? Her response to burying their second son hadn’t seemed much different than her reaction to Ivan’s birth. Perhaps that’s how she dealt with pregnancy hormones, or maybe it was just her ways. Without them talking, he had no way of knowing.

    When he tried to unravel the binding that held them prisoner, she grew more distant, more quiet. So as she carefully and yet sharply plunked his plate in front of him, he wasn’t going to ask what was wrong. It could be