Where Healing Blooms

by Vannetta Chapman

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Do? I suppose I’ll call Bishop Simon, and he’ll decide whether to call the police.”

  Danny leaned against the stall wall, crossed his arms, and rubbed at his clean-shaven jaw with his right hand. “Or . . .”

  “Or? We have an or here?”

  “Just saying.” He spread his hands out in front of him. Big hands.

  Danny brushed at straw that clung to his dark pants. Suspenders draped over his pale-green shirt. He pushed back the straw hat covering his mahogany brown hair sprinkled with gray. When he did so, Emma noticed his bangs flopped close to his chocolate-colored eyes. The gesture made Emma think of the boy he had been. Perhaps that was the problem. She suffered from memory misplacement.

  He was a big guy—over six feet and trim. It was one of the reasons folks were surprised when he decided to be a writer. Danny would have made a great farmer, or a farrier, or even a cabinetmaker. All of those occupations would have made sense. But a writer? An Amish writer?

  She sighed and returned her attention to the horse stall. “You haven’t said anything.”

  “I wouldn’t want to put my opinion where it has no place.”

  “Out with it.” The words escaped as a growl. She sounded moody, even to her own ears. It occurred to her that she never used to snarl at folks, unless they were tracking mud through the kitchen.

  “What if you left him some food instead?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because he’s obviously living here, and he must be hungry.”

  “But I don’t want him to live here. I want him to leave. My barn is for my horses.”

  “You’re right.”

  “People don’t live in barns.”

  “Most don’t.”

  “And he must have a home. His parents are probably worried sick.”

  “Maybe.”

  Emma closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath. When she’d spoken to her daughter Edna about her moodiness, Edna had smiled and reminded her of the change. She had thought she was through with that. Maybe not.

  “I don’t want him to stay. I want him out of my barn and off my property.”

  Danny pulled down on his hat. He looked Amish, but there were times Emma wondered. All that traveling must have affected his way of thinking.

  She stood and swiped some hay off the back of her dress.

  “Seems as if he was careful with the cookstove,” she admitted. The boy had placed it inside one of the midsized tin troughs.

  “Indeed.”

  “Don’t know what he could have been cooking.”

  “He probably caught a rabbit.”

  She brushed past him into the main portion of the barn. A young boy, a boy her own grandkinner’s age, eating rabbit he’d caught from the field? And nothing else?

  “I’ll bring him some leftover ham and bread from last night’s dinner, leave it in his stall, but only this once.”

  “It would be a kind thing to do.”

  “And he can reciprocate by moving on.”

  “Maybe he’ll see the food and trust you, tell you what’s happening and why he’s here.”

  She humphed as they stepped out into the late-afternoon sunlight. Old people made that sound, and she was not that old.

  Danny touched a hand to her shoulder, and Emma froze. Her feet became like cattails in an iced-over pond. Her heart thudded in her chest. She refused to look at him as he leaned close and whispered, “Perhaps Gotte has sent him to you, Emma. Perhaps Gotte has sent this child to us.”

  Against her better judgment, she turned and looked up into Danny’s eyes. His expression was a curious mixture of intensity, hope, and amusement.

  What was she to say to that?

  How was she supposed to respond?

  Emma had no idea, so she turned and trudged off toward the garden.

  Later that evening she told Mary Ann about their guest in the barn.

  “I think Danny was right.” Mamm squinted her eyes as she glanced across the room and out the window. “We should try to help this one who is lost.”

  “We don’t know that he’s lost. Maybe he’s lazy.”

  “Few children are actually lazy, though they are often confused. Sometimes one looks like the other.”

  Emma stood to gather their dinner dishes. With only the two of them, cleaning up had become much easier. She checked the large kitchen table to be sure she had all the dishes, and the memories almost overwhelmed her. She could see their brood of five, plus Ben’s parents, crowding around the table. The children often jostled one another as they made room on the long bench or in the chairs. As if they were still there, she could see—actually see—them settle for prayer. The boys bareheaded, the girls with their kapp strings pushed back and stray locks peeking out. The deep baritone of her husband’s voice when he’d ask who was hungry.

  Mary Ann reached out and covered Emma’s hand with her own.

  It startled her from the past.

  “It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling, dochder.”

  About the past?

  About the vagrant in her barn?

  About Danny?

  “I don’t know what you mean, Mamm. Unless you’re referring to my feeling tired. I’m not as young as—”

  “Gotte isn’t done with you yet.”

  “I suppose not, since I’m still here.”

  “He has plans, Emma.”

  “Ya? Has He let you in on any of them?” She couldn’t help smiling as she added dish soap to the warm water and plunged the first plate into the suds.

  “You’re laughing, but He has. I believe He has.” Mary Ann stood and carried her glass to the sink. At a time in life when most folks slowed down, she was still quite spry. Too thin. Emma remarked occasionally that she’d like to give some of her extra girth to Mary Ann, if that were possible. It seemed no matter how she changed their meals, Mary Ann became a little smaller each year, and she became a pound or two heavier.

  “Share with me, then. I’m interested to know what my future holds.”

  “No one knows that, dear.” Mamm picked up a dishcloth and began to dry.

  There was something about her tone that caught Emma’s attention. All this talk of the future and God’s plans. It was different from their normal evening banter.

  “Danny says perhaps Gotte brought this boy to us. That maybe that’s why he’s here or why we found him.”

  “The boy could have gone anywhere,” Mary Ann said.

  “There’s no telling how long he’s been hiding in there. I don’t look in that back stall often.”

  “But today you saw him.”

  “I did, which is strange, Mamm. If he were hiding, it seems he would have been more careful.”

  “Maybe he wanted you to see him.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. He ran the moment our eyes met.” Emma let her hands soak in the warm water. All that was left to wash was the pan she had used to stew the chicken and potatoes. She wanted to enjoy the dishwater before it grew cold and soiled.

  How long had it been since the boy had enjoyed a warm bath?

  She closed her eyes against the question. It wasn’t her responsibility to worry about the welfare of a stranger.

  And yet the Scriptures spoke often about strangers. Didn’t they? Something about the welfare of strangers and angels unaware?

  Mary Ann hung up her dish towel, then stretched to kiss Emma on the cheek. She’d always been affectionate, but in the last few years, she’d become more so. Maybe she realized the importance of expressing her feelings while there was still time.

  “Pray on it, my dear.”

  With those words of wisdom, Mary Ann turned and left the room.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The next day proceeded as most Tuesdays had since the children moved away. Emma and Mary Ann ate their breakfasts, cleaned two of the downstairs rooms, and then donned their shawls for the Stitch Club, which took place at a neighbor’s home.
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br />   Laura’s home was on the other side of town. It wasn’t a far drive, and though the day was cloudy, it felt good to be out and about. Emma guided their buggy through Shipshewana, past the Blue Gate where Edna had worked her first job as a waitress. They stopped at the light, and she glanced over at the Davis Mercantile. While she didn’t need any more fabric, it was always nice to drop in and say hello. The light changed, and she resisted the temptation to stop, directing her sorrel mare past Yoder’s and onto Laura’s street.

  The group was working on a quilt for the June auction. The women numbered a baker’s dozen, and they were all excited to be in the last stages of the project. Stretched on the quilt stand, which took up a good portion of Laura’s sitting room, was a large double-wedding-ring quilt. As they stitched it together, Emma wondered about who would purchase it. Newlyweds? Or a couple who had already spent a lifetime together? Amish? Or Englisch? Would someone buy it for themselves or for a loved one?

  The Lord knew. Before they began stitching each week, Laura reminded them to pray for the recipient. As soon as they had silently done so, the room became a bevy of activity.

  Emma’s daughters had not been able to attend, since school was now out of session and they were busy with their children. Instead, she and Mary Ann would stop by Eunice’s house on the way home. Her eldest daughter, Eunice, lived next door to Esther, her youngest, which made for easy visiting.

  They’d finished piecing the quilt together and were now ready to begin the actual quilting, as they’d basted the top to the back the week before. Once the quilting was finished, they’d bind the edges and be done! Perhaps three more weeks.

  The conversation around the quilt fluctuated from letters folks had received, to items read in The Budget, to the occasional phone call shared with a loved one. Finally, they descended into gossip.

  Emma wasn’t proud of this, though it probably wasn’t the type of gossip a bishop might frown upon. She thought of it as gossip because the conversation was based on what had been heard and tidbits passed along the grapevine, versus cold hard facts.

  She only listened, though she’d been known to participate. Her thoughts kept wandering to Danny and the boy in her barn. Suddenly Emma realized someone might know something about the boy, so she focused her attention on the conversations swirling around her.

  Nothing related popped up. Certainly this group would know if the boy was a runaway from any of their families.

  There was a lull in the conversation. Laura cleared her throat and asked if anyone had seen or heard from Nancy Schlabach. An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

  “I sent my youngest girl to take them some fresh eggs.” Verna pulled off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. “She told me Nancy was sporting a black eye. Didn’t offer any explanation about it.”

  “Like before, I’m sure she would give some illogical account of what happened.” Laura shifted her chair to the right and bent over her row of stitches.

  “I know the bishop has been by to see Nancy and Owen.” Emma ran her fingers down the strings of her prayer kapp as the group stopped what they were doing and stared at her, waiting for more details. “I asked Bishop Simon because I was worried, and I thought maybe there was something we could do.”

  “And? What did Simon say?”

  “That the church leadership was meeting with Owen, trying to convince him to enter a rehab program. He hadn’t agreed to it, and Simon suggested it might be necessary to move Nancy and the boys.”

  Verna spoke up. “The problem is that they’ve no family here. When they moved from Ohio, they thought the land they were buying would be forty-five acres of heaven. But farming is hard work, and their property was a mess when they bought it.” Verna replaced her glasses and picked up her quilting needle. “I’ve spoken to her about staying at our place, but she won’t. She knows we have children to the roof rafters. Still, we would make room for her.”

  “Ya, we all would,” Laura murmured.

  Each woman in the circle nodded in agreement. Each of them would gladly offer shelter to Nancy and her two small boys.

  Mary Ann had barely said a word since they arrived. She glanced up from her stitching. “Nancy needs a sanctuary.”

  “Sanctuary? What type of sanctuary?” Laura stowed her needle and sat back in the chair.

  “A place of healing. A safe place.”

  “Ya, we could use that in our community. Oaklawn has been a real benefit to Goshen, Elkhart, and South Bend. Perhaps they will build a facility here.”

  Verna sighed and bent even closer to her stitching. “Supposing the Mennonite Alliance did plan a facility like that here, it would take a year or more to complete. Nancy needs help now.”

  “God provides sanctuary,” Mary Ann reminded them.

  Emma remembered what she’d said the day before, about gardens being a place of blessing. Where a person could rest, draw closer to God, and heal. That was the sort of place Nancy needed. A garden of God’s design.

  So many people were hurting in the world. Emma felt rather ashamed that her thoughts had been ungrateful of late. Mary Ann was right. More time in prayer and no doubt she would have a better perspective.

  Eunice was sitting on the front porch, rocking baby Silas, when Emma and Mary Ann pulled into the driveway. Her six-year-old older daughter, Miriam, sat nearby, playing with three wooden horses.

  “Let me hold that little man.” Mary Ann settled into the rocker, and Eunice placed the baby in his mammi’s arms.

  Emma didn’t know who looked more content, the child or Mary Ann.

  “Where’s Esther today?”

  “The boys wanted to go into town and do some shopping with the money they earned from helping tend to Doc’s garden.”

  “It’s a wonder he has one at all, as much time as he spends in his office.”

  “Georgia loves the fresh vegetables, but the arthritis in her hands makes gardening nearly impossible. It must be hard for the doctor to see his own wife suffering so. The boys were only too happy to make a little spending money.”

  “Only eight years old and already the twins are hard workers.” Emma pulled Miriam into her arms when she skipped over to show the women the horse she was playing with. Even at her young age, she already had a real preference for anything to do with animals.

  “So tell me about this boy in your barn.”

  Emma wasn’t surprised she’d heard. It was the way of life in their small community. She told Eunice all she knew, and then added, “The food I left last night was gone when I checked on him this morning.”

  “But he wasn’t there?”

  “Nein. His stuff still was—a small duffel bag too small to hold more than a change of clothes.”

  “It is strange that he’d pick your barn.”

  “Have you checked yours lately? Could be that we all have Amish teens stowing away, and we just don’t know about it.”

  Eunice laughed but then grew somber. “Just be careful, okay, Mamm? And tell Danny if you need anything.”

  That was the way of things too. Her family now accepted Danny, counted on him, as if he’d never walked away from their community. She’d asked Danny about that once, about how he could bear to leave. He’d told her that at the time it had seemed what he ought to do, what he had to do, but that now he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

  As they were walking back toward their buggy, Eunice tucked her arm into the crook of her mother’s. “I saw Danny’s piece in The Budget. So he is still writing.”

  “Ya. I suppose.”

  “Do you ever talk to him about it?”

  “Nein. What’s to say?”

  “You could ask where he’s been, what things he’s seen. Maybe he wants to share his experiences with someone.”

  “I believe he shares them with his notebooks, piled high around his desk.”

  “Well, we’re all relieved that he decided to come home, that he changed his mind about selling his parents’ land. It’s gut to have
an Amish man living next door to you. Someone we trust.”

  “Must have been a hard decision for him.”

  “Why do you say that?” Eunice had helped her mammi into the buggy. Now she stood in the afternoon sun, studying her mother.

  “He didn’t stay when his folks passed. Only came home for a week or so.”

  “I’m sure he had his reasons.”

  “Ya. Then a year later he shows up, pulls the For Sale sign out of the yard, and settles in. I guess he had a hard time deciding whether he wanted to continue with his travels, with his studies, or move home.”

  “What’s important is that he’s here now, and you can depend on him if you need someone.”

  “I can depend on my kinner too.”

  “Ya, Mamm. But Danny is right next door. Don’t be proud. Let him know if you need something. And call me from the phone shack if you want Aaron to come over and speak with the teen in your barn.”

  “Your husband has plenty to do without worrying over a teenage boy.”

  Eunice stared down at the baby in her arms. “He’ll be that age before I know it. And I would not want him sleeping in a barn, but if he was . . .” She stepped closer and kissed Emma on the cheek. “I’d want him in yours.”

  Later that afternoon, Emma and Mary Ann were once again working in the garden when Danny arrived. He was wearing the same dark pants but a pale-blue shirt. Danny looked comfortable in whatever he wore. Had he worn Englisch clothes while he was away? Did he miss that life? And why did he appear every afternoon to help in their garden? Perhaps he needed the exercise of gardening after sitting at his desk all day. Emma had seen a few of his articles in The Budget over the last six months, but she had an idea he was working on something bigger.

  She didn’t want to ask what it was. Somehow it seemed rude unless he brought up the subject.

  Besides, if he wanted her to know, he would tell her. Wouldn’t he?

  They finished pulling carpetweed and prickly lettuce from around the mint, then moved on to care for the butterfly weed. Though its name indicated it was a weed, it was far from it. The plant’s orange blossoms hadn’t made an appearance yet, but they would soon—before July. Once they did, the butterflies would descend on it, and what a sight that was.