Leah's Choice

by Marta Perry

“Is it careful to be meeting that . . . Jarrod in the barn? How many times has he met you there?”

  Anna jerked her hand free. “All right, so I met him there a few times. Don’t tell me you never smooched with Johnny in the stable when you were young, because I wouldn’t believe it.”

  That hurt, but she wouldn’t let it show in her face. “That was different.”

  “Different why?” Anna demanded. “Because Johnny was Amish? Because you were going to marry him? But Johnny’s not Amish anymore, and you didn’t get married.”

  The pain sharpened, all the worse because the hurtful words came from her precious little sister. She wrapped her fingers around the bedpost, trying to focus on the present.

  “Are you in love with Jarrod?”

  Please, she murmured silently. Please.

  Anna shrugged. “I don’t know. I might be.”

  “Anna, stop and think what you’re saying. You can’t fall in love with him. He’s—”

  “Englischer. Auslander.” She threw up her hands in an extravagant gesture. “Listen to yourself, Leah. You talk as if a person can control who they fall in love with. Love isn’t like that.”

  Leah’s fingers tightened; her stomach twisted. She had to find the words that would turn her sister from her headstrong course.

  “What is love like, then?”

  Anna looked startled at the question. “Love is—well, it’s overwhelming. It takes you over and makes you willing to do anything, anything for the person you love.”

  “What about the other people you love? The people who love you and want what’s best for you? What about your duty to them?”

  “You don’t understand.” Anna swung away from her. “Honestly, Leah, sometimes I think you don’t have any feelings at all. You can’t talk about duty when you’re in love. If you were really in love, that wouldn’t matter at all.”

  No feelings. That was what Johnny had said to her, too, long ago, when she’d sent him away. But if she had no feelings, what was this pain in her chest, so sharp it took an effort to breathe?

  But she would breathe. And she would control her emotions, because that was what she did. It was for the best.

  “Anna, I just want you to be careful. And I want Mamm not to have to worry about you. Is that so much to ask?”

  Anna’s lips tightened. She grabbed the bag and headed for the door.

  But when she reached it, she stopped, hand on the latch. She didn’t look back at Leah.

  “I’ll be careful, all right?” Her voice was impatient. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

  She opened the door and was gone.

  “Come in, come in.” John Kile stood in the center hallway of the medical clinic a few days later, holding the door open for Leah. “Let me show you around our facility.”

  She stepped inside a little gingerly, not sure what awaited her. She’d hired a driver to bring her, because the clinic was too far to go with horse and buggy after school and still get home by dark. Her driver, Ben Morgan, would be waiting for her when she finished.

  It wasn’t that the idea of the clinic was foreign to her. She’d certainly spent a great deal of time in medical facilities last year when Mamm had been ill.

  But this was different, both because Johnny was here and because of what he wanted from her.

  The decision to come, even to look around, hadn’t been easy. She’d struggled with it for over a week, praying endlessly, staring at the ceiling when she should have been sleeping.

  Finally she’d realized why it was so hard. Because of Johnny. Because Johnny was the one who’d asked her.

  If anyone else had approached her, her thoughts would have been for the children and how she could help them. Chastened, she’d made her decision.

  “You can hang your bonnet there.” Johnny nodded to a row of wooden pegs on the wall of the hallway. His blue eyes were alive with excitement, and he was as eager as a child with a new scooter.

  She took her time removing her bonnet and straightening her head covering, trying to get accustomed to the place.

  On the outside, the clinic had clearly been designed to make Amish visitors feel welcome. Although new, it was built in a style reminiscent of a sturdy Pennsylvania Dutch barn. A row of hitching posts lined one side of the parking lot under a row of shade trees.

  “This is the clinic area.” Obviously impatient, Johnny seized her elbow and steered her through the archway into a waiting room lined with chairs.

  Leah had to pause and blink. In contrast to the mellow exterior, this room fairly shouted at her. The walls were covered with bright wallpaper in an abstract design, the plastic chairs bore brightly colored pads, and posters were plastered on the walls over the chairs.

  “Great, isn’t it?” Johnny gestured. “We even have a play area for the children.”

  The play corner was filled with bright plastic toys, some of them representing objects Leah couldn’t identify, but she nodded and smiled.

  He ushered her over to the counter that lined one end of the room. “I’d like to introduce our receptionist, the person who keeps us all on track. Leah, this is Julia Alcott. Julia, Leah Beiler.”

  Johnny gave Julia his most charming smile, and in that moment Leah realized that underneath his outward assurance, he was nervous. With all his education, did he still question his acceptance here?

  Julia nodded, her eyes cool. She was probably in her midthir ties, although Leah found it difficult to judge the ages of non-Amish women, and the beige suit she wore made her look more like one of the professionals than a receptionist.

  Before Leah could decide what, if anything, to say, a door behind the counter opened. The man who loped through was tall and thin, with keen gray eyes behind his glasses and an eager, youthful smile. He came quickly through the break in the counter and extended his hand to her.

  “Welcome, welcome. I’m Alex Brandenmyer. You must be the friend of John’s who’s going to help us. I’m pleased to meet you.”

  “Leah Beiler,” Johnny said, and his voice had an undertone of increased nervousness.

  It was little wonder. Leah shot a look at Johnny. She had said she’d consider this job, and the doctor acted as if her acceptance was an accomplished fact. Either Johnny was overly optimistic about persuading her to do this, or else he felt he knew her so well that there was no question of her cooperation.

  With no help for it, Leah shook the man’s hand, feeling awkward. “I’m not completely sure that I will be able to help you.”

  His eyebrows lifted at that, and he gave Johnny a questioning glance. “Well, we’ll just have to convince you that we need you, won’t we? Tell me, what do you think of our waiting room? We want it to be comfortable and welcoming for our Amish clients.”

  “It’s . . . It’s very nice.” She found it anything but comfortable, but she couldn’t say that.

  “That isn’t really what you think, is it?” He smiled, but his gaze was keen and assessing. “Tell me. I’d like to hear your opinion.”

  He was quick to size people up. A good quality in a doctor, she supposed, but she found it a bit uncomfortable when it was turned on her.

  “Well, I . . .” She glanced at Johnny, hoping he could get her out of this awkward situation, but he was gazing attentively at his mentor. “It’s very . . . busy. If your visitors are already nervous about being here, they might find it a little overwhelming.”

  “Good point. See, you’ve helped us already.”

  The doctor beamed, apparently pleased, but Julia looked annoyed. Had the woman picked out the colors and patterns? Leah hadn’t meant to offend anyone, but he’d forced her to give her opinion.

  “This is the clinic area, as you can see.”

  Dr. Brandenmyer seemed determined to take over the tour. She’d find it less intimidating to be shown around by Johnny, but he faded back in the presence of Dr. Brandenmyer.

  “We see patients daily, but over here on the other side of the hallway is where the real work is done.”r />
  He moved quickly, towing her along as he crossed the hallway and opened the door. A completely different atmosphere permeated this side of the entry area. A hallway stretched the depth of the building, with rooms and cubicles off it to the left.

  Dr. Brandenmyer gestured as he walked, giving her the impression that he liked to do more than one thing at a time. “Here we have an exam room with an area for drawing blood. Next we have the laboratory to analyze that blood.” He nodded to a young man in a blue lab coat wearing goggles.

  “The Amish provide a unique opportunity to study genetic diseases, you know.” He paused. “Genetic diseases are those that are carried in the genes, passed on from parent to child.”

  He apparently assumed that she had no understanding of the problems at all.

  “Like the Crigler-Najjar syndrome and the maple syrup urine disease,” she suggested.

  “Yes, exactly.” He looked at her approvingly, as if she were a brighter pupil than he’d anticipated. “You see, most Pennsylvania Amish are descended from the same small group of ancestors. That means that genetic diseases can be more prevalent. If we’re able to trace the family trees of those who are affected, we can come that much closer to identifying the causes.”

  “And finding a cure?” Her heart clenched at the thought of the families who would be touched by such a thing.

  “We’re a long way from that right now,” he admitted. “But everything we learn moves us forward. Early testing and intervention can help many of the affected children live a much more normal life.”

  He stopped at the entrance to a room that seemed completely filled with computers. Johnny brushed past her and crossed to a woman who swung away from one of the screens as they came in.

  “Leah, this is Stacie Corson.” He rested his hand lightly on the back of her chair.

  The slight, dark-haired young woman shot Johnny an intense glance before nodding at Leah.

  “This is where Stacie and I analyze the data,” he said, gazing around at the computers the way her father might look at a field overflowing with ripe corn. “But we need more information to work on.”

  “That’s where you come in,” Dr. Brandenmyer said. “You see, the information you bring us will be keyed into the computer.” He moved to one of the machines, patting it lovingly. “This is the most advanced equipment on the market today.” He bent over to tap something, so that a complex chart appeared on the screen. “You see, this is a sample of the—”

  “It’s not necessary to give Leah a crash course in computers.” The woman who spoke had been sitting behind one of the machines in the corner of the room, and Leah hadn’t noticed her until that moment.

  But she was relieved at the interruption. Very relieved. Her head had begun to ache with the strain of trying to follow Dr. Brandenmyer’s explanations. She’d been keeping up all right, she thought, until they’d reached the computer room, but here she was totally out of her depth.

  “Lydia, I didn’t see you back there. This is Leah Beiler, the young woman John told us about. Leah, this is Lydia Weaver.”

  “Leah is the teacher, I know,” Lydia said, coming toward them.

  Her smile was piercingly sweet, lighting her plain face with an inward beauty. She wore a simple dark dress with low-heeled shoes, her graying hair short and swept back from a face that was frankly middle-aged and didn’t attempt to hide that fact.

  “Goodness, look at the time,” Dr. Brandenmyer exclaimed. “It’s a good thing you stopped me, Lydia. I must go. I have a conference call with those researchers in Luzerne in a few minutes. John, you’d better come with me. Stacie can show Leah the charts and explain about the interviews.”

  In an instant they were both gone. Stacie didn’t look especially happy at being left behind. She shoved her chair, and it rolled to the next desk so quickly that Leah had to step out of the way.

  “It’s very simple, really,” she said, sounding doubtful that Leah could manage no matter how simple. “We’d expect you to visit families who have an instance of genetically linked illness and persuade them to cooperate. There’s a family-tree form to fill out.” She shoved a paper into Leah’s hands. “And an interview form.” She passed her another one. “We encourage all the members of the family to come in for DNA testing. You know what that is, don’t you?”

  Leah’s hands tightened on the forms that had been thrust into her hands. This woman didn’t like her, and she wasn’t sure why. Because she was Amish? Plenty of Englischers were prejudiced against the Amish, but this would be a funny place to work if you felt that way.

  Or did this have something to do with Johnny?

  “I said do you know about DNA testing?”

  “Yes.”

  Leah clipped off the word and put the papers down on the desk carefully because she wanted to throw them. If Johnny thought she’d be convinced to help them by making her the object of condescension and rudeness, he was mistaken.

  “I’m sure there’s time for all of these explanations once Leah has had a chance to think about this,” Lydia interrupted smoothly. “I always have a cup of tea about this time.” She touched Leah’s arm lightly. “Please, come and join me.”

  Leah would rather leave, but she would not return rudeness for rudeness by saying so. “That is very kind of you.”

  With the sense that the woman had unexpectedly come to her rescue, Leah went with her.

  Lydia led the way into yet another office, but this one was totally different. There was not a computer in sight. The room was simplicity itself, with off-white walls and matching fabric shades on the windows, drawn up to give a view across green pasture. In the distance, an old orchard spread along the hillside, its apple trees gnarled and bent, but still bearing blossoms.

  There were blossoms inside, as well, with pots of African violets filling the windowsills. Though there was a desk in the far corner near crowded bookshelves, the focus of the room seemed to be two comfortable-looking padded rockers on an oval hooked rug.

  “I like your office.” At an inviting gesture from Lydia, Leah sank into one of the rockers. Its bentwood back fit her perfectly.

  “My aim was to make it look as little like an office as possible.”

  Lydia turned on what seemed to be an electric kettle and put two mugs on a tray. Her movements were slow and smooth. Calming.

  Leah leaned her head back, feeling the last of her stress drain away. “You succeeded. It’s peaceful here.” She hesitated. “You rescued me. That was kind of you.”

  Lydia opened a tin and began arranging cookies on a plate. “You looked as if you needed it. I’m afraid this place can be overwhelming.”

  “Ja.” The word was heartfelt.

  “I’ve noticed that scientists become so focused on their own subject that they’re totally unaware of other people’s reactions.” The kettle was boiling already, and she poured hot water into the cups. “You can be staring at them with a totally blank expression, and they’ll just keep talking.”

  That surprised Leah into a laugh. “I’m afraid blank is a wonderful gut description of how I felt when they started talking about the computers.”

  “I’m a little familiar with computers, but I confess, the complex programs John and Stacie work with are beyond me.”

  Lydia carried the tray to the small, round table that stood between the rockers and put a steaming mug down next to Leah.

  Once Leah had taken the tea and an obviously homemade oatmeal cookie, Lydia served herself and sank back in the other rocker.

  “That’s better. I always want a break in the late afternoon.”

  “This is pleasant.” Leah looked at the woman, curious. “You talk about the scientists as if they’re different from you, but you work here, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I’m a psychologist, not a genetics researcher. I help the families and the children cope with the difficulties of their situation.”

  “It is very hard,” Leah agreed. “I know of several children who ought to be i
n my school, but their condition doesn’t permit. I try to do what I can, taking them books and learning activities, but it’s not enough.”

  Lydia nodded in understanding. “Whatever we do never seems enough, does it? Still, no matter what their condition, the children are a blessing. And those we lose—well, they’re safe in the hands of Jesus.”

  Leah studied the woman, caught by the turn of phrase, the way she dressed, even the way she sat. “Lydia, are you . . .”

  She stopped, realizing that the question she wanted to ask might be considered rude.

  “Am I Plain?” Lydia finished the question for her, smiling. “I was raised Amish, yes.” She shrugged. “But I wanted more education, more choices about the life I would have. So I chose not to join the church.”

  “Are you—” Questions flooded her mind. “Do you have a relationship with your family?”

  “Oh, yes. It took some time, but we’re close now. They live in Indiana, so I don’t see them as often as I’d like, but we write often, and my nieces and nephews visit in the summer.”

  “That’s gut.”

  At least, she supposed it was. So far, Johnny didn’t have that chance, but perhaps it would come, given a little patience. Unfortunately, patience had never been one of his strong points.

  “You’re happy?”

  Lydia considered the question. “Not entirely, I suppose. Sometimes I long to be an Amish woman again, sitting in my own kitchen with my children around me. But none of us gets everything we want, Amish or English. I am content. And I’m very satisfied to be part of the work we’re doing here.”

  “I know that it is important work.” Leah stared down at the dark brew in her cup, a little troubled. “But I’m not sure it is right for me.”

  For a long moment Lydia didn’t speak. Then she nodded. “I understand. It would be difficult for you in any event, but having John here makes it worse.”

  She wanted to deny it, but Lydia saw too much. Or maybe Johnny had been talking about her. That thought was distasteful.

  Lydia’s chair rocked as she patted Leah’s hand. “Think about it. Pray about it. See what God’s answer is. That’s all we can ask of you.”