by Anna Schmidt
“Arlen?” Grady shouted, and the minister turned away from the chicken coop that he and Samuel had been inspecting. “Wanna come have a look at this?” John waited while the three men slowly worked their way to the interior of the house. He was aware that Zeke had come to stand with him. The two of them watched as Samuel scrambled up a pile of broken bricks and chunks of concrete to get a closer look at the chimney. He turned to Arlen and shook his head, and Grady made a note on his clipboard. This pantomime was repeated at least three other times before Grady came back to where John waited.
“The good news is that there’s no reason you can’t rebuild,” Grady said slowly, not meeting John’s eyes.
“And the bad news?”
“You’ll have to start from scratch. This stuff—” Grady waved a hand over the remains of the packinghouse and outbuildings and shook his head. “You’ll need permits. I can help you get the survey and flood certification documents, but you’re going to need permits for the building, plumbing, electrical—if you decide to put that in—and when it’s all up again, you’ll need a final inspection and occupancy permit before you can move in.”
“It’s my land,” John argued. “I don’t need anyone’s permission to live on my own land.”
“You’re right,” Grady agreed. “But unless you plan to live in a tent here, you’re going to need those permits.”
“And if I refuse?”
“There will be fines, hefty fines that will make the cost of the permit look like peanuts. And you could go to jail.”
John felt a sense of overwhelming grief rise up into his throat. He had worked so very hard, and he had come so close. Why would God test him in such a way?
“I’ll start over,” he said and only realized he had spoken aloud when Zeke grinned.
“That’s the spirit,” the homeless man said as he clapped John on the back.
John couldn’t help noticing that neither Grady, Arlen, nor Samuel seemed to share Zeke’s enthusiasm. And their obvious doubt only strengthened John’s will to succeed.
“You’ll still need those permits,” Grady warned.
John did not acknowledge this comment. Instead, he held out his right hand to Grady. “Thanks for coming,” he said as in turn he shook hands with Grady, Arlen, and Samuel. He even shook hands with the engineer. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.”
“As long as they’re here,” Arlen said with a nod toward the men in hard hats and the bulldozer, “why don’t we clear away those fallen trees by your beach?”
John weighed his answer against what was most likely to get these people to leave as soon as possible and decided that since the bulldozer and other equipment had to turn around, they might as well move the fallen trees. “I’d appreciate that,” he told Arlen and could not deny that it felt good to see the older man’s smile. It was not a smile of victory. Rather, it was one of appreciation. Arlen was grateful for John’s willingness to allow him to do at least a part of the work he no doubt believed that he had been sent by God to accomplish.
True to their word, Grady, Arlen, and Samuel climbed back into the Jeep driven by the engineer and followed the heavy machinery back down the lane as soon as the trees were moved out of the way and the path from the house to where the pier had once stood had been cleared.
“You’re going to need some help,” Zeke commented as he watched them go. “Those MDS crews can get a lot done in a short time if you give them half a chance.”
“I expect you’re right,” John replied, “but I just need time to think it all through. Can you understand that?”
“Yep.” Zeke headed back to where he’d left the boat. “You ready?”
It was just past noon, and there was so much to do. Surely Zeke wasn’t planning to—
“I gotta get the boat back,” Zeke called as he unleashed the boat from the tree and waited. “You coming?”
John wasn’t ready to go. Not yet. But then, the boat was the only way in or out. He let out a sigh. “Be right there,” he called and turned to take one more look around, memorizing every detail. And that was when he remembered that the lane was open. He could stay and walk out to the road.
“You go on,” he shouted. “I’m going to stay awhile longer.”
“No worries,” Zeke replied as he pulled the starter rope and eased the boat back out into the calm waters of the bay.
Part Two
O thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not comforted,
behold, I will lay thy stones with fair colours,
and lay thy foundations with sapphires.
ISAIAH 54:11
A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener.
HENRY DAVID THOREAU, WALDEN: LIFE IN THE WOODS
Chapter 10
Hester and her family had spent over a week at the church shelter before Jeannie Messner insisted they come and stay with her. By that time, power and water had been restored to Jeannie’s neighborhood as well as much of Pinecraft, although there were still outages in the homes along the creek.
Jeannie and her husband, Geoff, lived with their daughter, Tessa, in a large house on Slipper Street just outside the Pinecraft area. Given that there was no word when they might be able to move back to the houses ruined by the flooding, Hester and her father gratefully accepted Jeannie’s invitation.
“Emma and her brood are in here,” Jeannie told Hester as she led her down an upstairs hallway past three inviting-looking bedrooms. “My sister insisted on taking only one room for her entire family.” She rolled her eyes. “Do not ask me to understand the sense of that when Sadie and Tessa could easily share. They’ve always been more like sisters than cousins, and we could put a cot in my sewing room for Matt.”
“Gramma and I can share a room,” Hester suggested.
“Actually, I thought Nelly could stay in Geoff’s study on the ground floor. It’s close to the powder room and no stairs for her to manage,” Jeannie continued. “And the hide-a-bed is fairly comfortable, short-term.”
“This is very kind of you, Jeannie. I mean, after all, with school about to start, you and Geoff must have your hands full.”
The perky red-haired woman’s large eyes sparkled. “Hey, I didn’t completely lose my way when I came over to the ‘dark’ side.” She laughed at her own joke about making the leap from the conservative to the more liberal branch of the faith. “I thought you and Margery could share this room, and then your dad and…what’s his name? The guy from Tucker’s Point?”
“John?” Hester’s step slowed. Surely Jeannie wasn’t thinking of inviting John Steiner to stay with her as well.
“John Steiner,” Jeannie repeated, committing the name to memory. “He can bunk in with Zeke and your dad—if I can get Zeke to come in out of the rain.”
“Unlikely,” Hester said, although her mind was still on the idea of John Steiner in this bustling house.
Jeannie laughed. “Yeah, I know, but I do keep trying. The man is a gifted musician. One of these days he’s going to be discovered, and, well, I want to be sure he doesn’t forget me when he’s rich and famous.”
Hester smiled. “You are such a good person, Jeannie.”
“Aw shucks, ma’am,” Jeannie replied, mimicking a shy cowboy digging the toe of a boot into the carpet. “Just like this friend of mine who will hopefully be getting married to a certain young carpenter from Pennsylvania soon, I just can’t stand seeing folks in need.”
But Jeannie’s brand of service was different. While Hester and Emma were constrained by the rules and protocol set forth by their respective agencies, Jeannie simply went out and did good in the world. She walked down a street, saw someone in need, and took action. No questions asked about should I or could I—just action. Once, when Hester had mentioned Jeannie’s gift for helping others, Jeannie had grinned. “Like the ad on TV says, ‘Just do it.’ Works for me.”
This certainly wasn’t the first time that Hester had felt confused by Jeannie’s references to popular m
edia. Hester and her father owned a small television, but it was used for information like weather updates, not entertainment. But she understood that like any Mennonite woman would, Jeannie was simply deflecting the compliment she’d been given.
“And speaking of good-looking carpenters from Pennsylvania, I forgot about a place for Samuel,” Jeannie said, frowning. “Well, Geoff can just bring in another rollaway. How about some lemonade?”
“Samuel has his camper. He had taken it to pick up more cots for the church the morning the creek flooded, so it was unharmed,” Hester reminded her.
Jeannie grinned and clapped her hands. “Perfect. We can park it on the drive, and Matt can bunk out there with him.” She started down the curved stairway with Hester following. “I mean, my sister is pure salt of the earth when it comes to being good people, but can you imagine expecting two teenagers to bunk in with their parents even for a couple of nights, and this will be a lot longer than a couple nights.” She shook her curly hair. “She has got to loosen those apron strings.”
Jeannie filled tall slender glasses with ice and then covered the cubes with lemonade. “Tessa cannot wait to have what she likes to call ‘our’ lemonade,” she said, nodding toward a tree that was heavy with fruit not yet ready for picking outside the kitchen window. “And how blessed are we Floridians to be able to walk outside our back door and right there hanging from branches are lemons and limes and oranges and grapefruit? I’ve lived here my whole life, but I still can’t get over how fortunate we are to be living in such beauty.” She seemed not to notice the destruction the winds and rain had caused to the variety of fruit trees in her yard. Instead, she boosted herself onto one of the high stools that lined the serving counter separating her kitchen from a large family room and took a long swallow of her store-bought lemonade.
“Speaking of Samuel,” she said as she set the glass on the counter and gave Hester her full attention. “What’s the deal?”
Hester felt the familiar prickle of irritation that had lately begun to accompany anyone’s question regarding Samuel’s place in her life. I don’t know, she sometimes wanted to scream. And besides, it’s none of your business.
But there was something about Jeannie that invited sharing, and before she could censor herself, Hester was telling Jeannie all about her exasperation with her father’s clumsy attempt at matchmaking. “He means well,” she said, trying hard to walk the fine line between criticizing her father and expressing her own frustration. “He just wants me to be happy.”
“Aren’t you?”
The question stunned Hester. For so long she had been going about her life, her daily routine, under the assumption that she was doing what she needed to do to care for others and at the same time find some personal happiness for herself.
“Of course,” she replied too quickly.
Jeannie lifted an eyebrow and got up to refill their glasses. “I mean ‘happy’ as in over the moon, can’t wait to get up in the morning to see what the new day might bring,” she said. “I mean having someone or something in your life that just thinking about it, or him, makes you glow.” She set the glasses down and looked at Hester. “Samuel,” she whispered and leaned forward to study Hester more closely. “Nope. Not even a twinkle, much less a glow.”
“It doesn’t always happen that way. I barely know the man,” Hester protested.
Jeannie shrugged. “I met Geoff on a Friday morning down at the bay. He was fishing and I was looking for conch shells. He asked me out. I said yes and three days later he proposed, and I said yes.” She glanced around. “And fifteen years later, here we are…happy as clams.”
“But everyone knows that both you and Geoff are incurable romantics,” Hester reminded her. “Some of us are more—”
“Take the word of a romantic, then. Samuel is not for you, and, for that matter, you aren’t for him. The two of you might make a go of it, but for all the wrong reasons. Life on this planet is way too short to settle.” It was the same advice that Emma had offered her.
Hester took a moment to drink her lemonade and let Jeannie’s advice sink in. Emma’s sister had always had a reputation for being spontaneous and even a little capricious at times, but she was making perfect sense now, and that alone made Hester uneasy. A clock chimed in the family room. “I have to get back,” she said. “Thanks so much for taking us in. We’ve got crews ready to start scrubbing down the homes that got flooded as soon as MDS gets the go-ahead to go in and take care of the major stuff. I expect we’ll be able to move everyone back in by mid-September—that’s only a week and a half away, but if having us here becomes too much …”
“Hey, stay as long as you need to. We thrive on the ruckus,” Jeannie assured her as the two of them walked to the front door. She stood on tiptoe and kissed Hester’s cheek. “I’ll take care of getting Nelly from the shelter. She’ll be all settled in by the time you and Arlen get here later tonight.”
“Thanks. We really appreciate it.”
Hester was already on her bike when Jeannie crossed the yard to stand next to her. “And don’t forget to let John know he’s welcome.”
Hester felt her cheeks grow pink, and she missed her footing on the bike’s pedal and almost fell.
Jeannie laughed. “Hey, is that a twinkle I see?” she called as she headed back to the house.
“Twinkle, my foot,” Hester muttered as she pedaled hard down the street. The man had been nothing but trouble from the moment she’d met him.
When Hester got back to Pinecraft, she saw Samuel loading his camper with a variety of tools, gallon jugs of bleach, and boxes of rubber gloves, along with dust masks and protective goggles. Assuming that he was preparing to muck out the houses in the neighborhood by the creek, she pulled her bike up next to him.
“Hi,” she said, slightly winded from having ridden away from Jeannie’s so fast.
“I was just thinking about you,” Samuel said. “Do you have some spare clothes and canned goods I could have? Maybe a sleeping bag or some blankets?”
Hester couldn’t help smiling. “Oh, Samuel, you aren’t going to have to work all night. The ladies from MCC and CAM will make sure you and your crew have plenty to eat and drink. Just be careful that you—”
“It isn’t for me. I mean, it’s not meant for cleaning up the houses.” He nodded toward the deserted lane where the floodwaters had finally receded and after days of waiting the men could finally start their work. “Arlen’s got that covered. I’m taking this stuff out to the Tucker place.” “Why?”
It occurred to Hester that she had seen John Steiner only twice in all the time since he’d helped rescue her grandmother and the others. The first time had been that same day after he and Zeke had taken off together. The second had been earlier that very morning when she was on her way to Jeannie’s and she had seen John arguing with Grady. More than a week had passed in between. Where had he been all that time?
“John Steiner has moved back out to his place, and he’s refusing to leave,” Samuel explained. “I’d really like to help him.”
“I saw him in town this morning. He’d traded the splint for a cast and certainly seemed fine.”
“Well, yeah, he comes and goes, but he’s staying out there and I don’t know. There’s just something about the guy, Hester. He seems so determined and at the same time so lost.”
“What’s he doing out there?” Hester had a sudden image of the wreckage of the place the day they had gone to rescue him. It couldn’t be much better now. “And how in the world is he managing a boat with one arm in a sling?”
Samuel shrugged. “The utility company cleared the lane to his place, so he gets back and forth by foot, or he hitches a ride. And Zeke and Margery help him out some when he lets them.”
“Dad told me that he and Grady surveyed the place and it’s pretty much a total loss.”
Samuel nodded and continued loading the supplies. “He’s got his work cut out for him, that’s for sure. So I thought maybe he’d accept the
loan of my camper. I mean, he needs a place to sleep and get out of the sun.”
“But where will you stay? We’re all moving in with Jeannie Messner and her husband, and she’s counting on you bringing your camper for extra sleeping space for you and her nephew.” She couldn’t believe what she was saying. Here was Samuel making a real sacrifice to help a fellow man, and all she could think of was how it was going to be an inconvenience for Jeannie. What was it about John Steiner that made her go against the very mission she had set for her life? Helping others was her calling. She had never questioned the worthiness of a person’s cry for help before.
But John wasn’t asking for help. In fact, he was doing everything he could to go it alone. And maybe that was her problem. She rarely had faced someone so desperately in need who had neither wanted nor asked for her help.
