A Simple Hope

by Rosalind Lauer

  Silence swallowed the group that only minutes ago had been joking and laughing. Clearly, the visit was over.

  “I’ve got a few more house calls to make.” Doc Trueherz checked his watch. “Thank you for the pie, Edna. And I hope you folks give Alec Finley a shot. I’ve read up on this procedure. In one of the early trials back in 2011, the patient was able to stand on his own within three days of the treatment. It’s not often you see results that quickly.” He clapped James on the shoulder. “Think about the study, son. I think it’s worth giving it a try.”

  James was a drowning man reaching for a lifeline. He looked to his parents, but they were miles away, no doubt concerned about what the bishop and others would think about their son trying yet another Englisher medical procedure.

  Dylan rose from his chair, but then dropped down on one knee so that he was eye level with James. “I’d like to keep checking up on you, if that’s okay,” he said directly to James. “Haley and I want to keep the strong ties we’ve made here in your community.”

  James nodded, aware of his father’s eyes burning a hole into his back. “You’d best not come around here anymore. Don’t take offense, but my father, he’s had bad experiences with the English. It’s not about anything you’ve done.” The words were sour on James’s tongue, a bitter pill. James knew his father had been crushed by a bad experience, but why couldn’t he let bygones be bygones? “But I’m grateful to you, and to Haley.”

  “Just doing our jobs,” Dylan said casually, though James knew it wasn’t true. They had given help and coaching and consolation in their personal time, and now … now Dat wanted to send them both away.

  Haley and Dylan said their good-byes and headed out.

  Without looking back at his parents, James followed them, rolling himself out the door and onto the porch. Once outside, he breathed deeply, trying to find calm in the cool spring air. Steering the right path through Dat’s obstacles was exhausting.

  “You okay, buddy?” Dylan asked, his brows lifted in concern.

  James glanced back at the house. At least Jimmy and Edna had not followed them outside. “There’s an expression folks around here say: ‘If you get to the end of the rope, tie a knot and hang on.’ ”

  Dylan pursed his lips, thoughtful for a moment. “So you’re tying a knot.”

  James nodded. “Every day.”

  “That’s the way, one day at a time.”

  After the visitors left, James returned to the house to find his parents sitting in the living room—a rare event for any afternoon.

  “James.” Dat’s voice summoned him, and from the grim slash of Mamm’s mouth, James knew the weather was not improving.

  “I’m glad that’s the end of the visits.” Jimmy stroked his beard. “No more Englishers in our home.”

  “I wanted to ask you about that. What if just Haley and Dylan kept coming out?” James asked, his voice thin as a dying wind. “Just for physical therapy and counseling.”

  “Counseling.” Dat winced over the word. “Why not get counseling from Samuel or Preacher Dave? When you were baptized two years ago, you agreed to live in this world, but not of it. You should be looking to the church leaders for answers. Not to fancy folk, who are putting dreams and notions of walking in your head.”

  “Dat, please,” James begged. “Don’t blame them because I want to heal. It’s my dream, my plan. And you know how I am. When I set my sights on something, I don’t back down.”

  “We can’t have the Englishers here anymore,” Dat said.

  “But that means I’ll have to stop physical therapy.” The therapy that got me out of bed … out of the stew of dark thoughts.

  “You can go see a doctor if need be, but I won’t have the Englishers in this home anymore.”

  “So then …” James pushed back. “I’ll be doing the experimental therapy with Dr. Finley.”

  “Just as long as you don’t go riding in a car.”

  James sank back into the chair, feeling like a hollowed-out tree, a mere shell of life, solitary and decaying. “You know I can’t climb into a buggy just yet.”

  “Maybe that’s Gott’s way of telling you to stay home,” Dat said.

  James set his teeth, staring at his father. He had always known that Jimmy Lapp had backbone, but he’d never bumped up against this solid wall of resistance. He looked to his mother for help, but Edna was staring down at the floor. Did she agree with Dat?

  He didn’t want to think about the days and weeks ahead without visits from Dylan and Haley. Physical therapy had gotten him out to the orchards again. And sometimes, talking with Dylan was the one thing that kept fear from flapping in James’s chest. Dylan had a way of helping James break the knot of tension in his chest so that he could line his ducks up in a row. It was a wonder, the things that Dylan could do, just by talking.

  “So, that much is settled, then.” Dat’s eyes were dark as shiny lumps of coal. “No more Englishers in the house, and you’ll begin to see that this is where you belong. Walking or not, this is where the Almighty wants you to be, living Plain with your family.”

  James gripped the arms of his chair, longing to push himself up and stand before his father.

  Look at me, Dat, he wanted to say. I am here, living Plain, and I’m not going anywhere, trapped in this chair.

  Anger tasted sour on his tongue, and James worked hard to swallow it as he relaxed his arms and sank back. If he was going to be stuck in this chair, half a man forever, he would shrivel and dry like a fallen leaf.

  But he could not say this to Dat, who already thought that James was acting fancy. For now, James had to swallow the bitterness, and hope that, in time, Dat would see his oldest son in a new light.

  They had been driving in circles.

  Gary was still trying to make it sound like they would be turning toward home any minute, but Shandell had figured out his game.

  He wanted to stay in Lancaster County because it was so easy to steal from the Amish. Both Gary and Shandell knew that Amish people wouldn’t fight him or get violent. The Amish were pacifists; fighting back went against their beliefs. That made them an easy target.

  So far they had spent the day driving from one Amish town to another so that Gary could snag things while vendors were looking the other way. He had stolen a brick of cheese and popcorn and a leather belt. He had made off with a quilt that had to be worth a lot, and a wooden cradle that he had absolutely no use for. When she’d asked him about it, he’d told her that he would sell it off, just like the flowers. While they’d been parked at a rest stop, he had traded some lady the entire carton of hyacinths for five dollars.

  “This is found money,” he’d told Shandell.

  More like stolen money.

  The cherry pie filling stolen from the roadside stand had been his dessert last night. Watching him pluck out a fat cherry with a long white plastic spoon, Shandell had felt sick about how low he had fallen and worried about how she would extract herself from his crime spree.

  “We could be just like Bonnie and Clyde,” he had said last night. “Except that instead of robbing banks, we rob the Amish.” He’d laughed at his own joke. “I just wish we could come up with a way to get free food from that Amish diner in Halfway. They’ve got good eats. I would dine and dash, but it might attract too much attention. You never know if there’s a cop nearby.”

  A cop … that would be a relief. Shandell could turn herself in and ask for help getting home. Right now, she was beginning to doubt that Gary would make good on his promise. Even worse, when she had asked him to drop her at a bus stop, he had squinted at her as if she was the crazy one.

  She had almost called him on it. Oh, I’m not allowed to go home? I can’t go off on my own? What, am I a prisoner? Is this a kidnapping now?

  She thought that Gary might back down if she confronted him, but she wasn’t sure. And what if he didn’t? Would he stick her in the trunk, along with the stolen quilt and cradle? Fear shivered down her spine, despite t
he warm sunshine streaming into the car. She didn’t know how low Gary would stoop, but she wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

  He turned off Halfway’s Main Street and pulled in to a parking lot shared by the library and the ice-cream shop.

  “I’m gonna hit the restroom in the library,” he said. “You coming along?”

  He was giving her a choice. This was her chance. “Nah. I’ll wait here. All those books remind me of school.”

  Gary snickered as he slung the car door open. “I told you, you don’t have to go back to school at all. You’re eighteen now.”

  But she wanted to go back to school. Even with all those floating, angry equations in algebra, even if she had to go back over the summer to get her degree, school was better than the guilt and shame of tearing through these peaceful hills and valleys to rob the Amish. She would spend hours sprawled on her bed, studying. And then hug her pillow and slip under the comforter covered with puffy white clouds on a background of blue …

  Oh, she missed the comforts of home!

  “I’ll be right back,” Gary said, slamming the car door.

  She nodded, pretending to be distracted by searching for a radio station as he went through the parking lot to the front of the library building.

  Watching him from the corner of her eye, Shandell calculated. The sheriff’s office was just down Main Street, over to the right, but she would have to cross in front of the library to get that way. No, she couldn’t take the chance that Gary would see her through the library’s floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on Main Street.

  She would have to run in the other direction. The back of the parking lot stretched out to the other side of the ice-cream parlor, allowing plenty of extra room for Amish buggies and horses. In fact, there were two buggies parked there now, their horses nickering as they waited in the mild afternoon sun. She would cut over that way, around the far side of the ice-cream place, and then run like crazy.

  As soon as Gary disappeared from sight, Shandell popped out of the car. Her hands shook as she opened the rear door and reached in for her backpack, but she warned herself to stay calm. Keep breathing … and run!

  Her pack thumped against her back as she bolted across the parking lot, cutting a wide arc around the ice-cream place. Once she flew out onto the sidewalks of Halfway’s Main Street, she had to watch for pedestrians. She darted past two chatty teenaged Amish girls and cut around a woman helping an elderly man out of the car parked at the curb. With tourists and local people dipping in and out of shops and chatting casually, Halfway’s Main Street was no place to be in a hurry.

  Her heart raced, more from fear than exertion, as she passed a cute little tea shop and Kraybill’s Fish and Game, where some handsome wooden ducks were on display in the window.

  At the next corner she paused and peered behind her. No sign of Gary yet, but there was no telling how long he would be. She couldn’t outrun him. She would have to hide.

  Bracing herself, she bounded ahead, feeling a sense of relief with each step she put between herself and Gary. She had to get away—now.

  She raced past the bakery, its window teasing with iced pastries and buttery pretzels. The scent of baking rolls made her stomach growl, but right now hunger was the least of her worries. She had to get away and time was running out. But where could she hide?

  Her heart thumping, she slowed to a jog and paused at the door to the Country Store. It was as good a place as any. Bells jingled as she stepped inside to the mixed scents of lavender and sweet chocolate fudge. Old, white-scrubbed wood shelves and display cases held crafts like crocheted potholders, wooden birdhouses, handmade quilts, and Amish rag dolls. The quaint shop beckoned to her, a refuge.

  “What should I do with these, Elsie?” a big Amish guy asked the young woman sitting behind the counter.

  “Put them in the storeroom for now,” she answered.

  A quick glance told Shandell that Elsie had an unusual smile. Shiny dark hair was pulled back under her white kapp, and her eyes seemed kind as she focused on Shandell. “Can I help you find something?”

  Swallowing back her pride and fear, Shandell pressed her palms to the counter.

  “Please … Elsie, that’s your name, right? I need your help.”

  The young Amish shopkeeper’s eyes grew wide. “Tell me what I can do for you.”

  “Hide me.” Shandell’s heart was thumping fast now. She checked the door, sure that at any moment it would burst open and Gary would barge in, flashing the handsome smile that didn’t connect to his heart. “My friend is … well, he’s gone a little crazy and I need to get away from him. I ran from his car just now, but he’ll be coming after me. Please, will you help me?”

  Elsie’s dark brows lowered as she shot a look at the door. “Come with me.”

  As the Amish woman slid down from the stool, Shandell saw that she was barely three feet tall. A little person. Still, she moved with authority as she led Shandell past an aisle of wooden plaques and quaint paintings of green fields and Amish quilts.

  “You can stay in here,” Elsie said, pulling the curtain back on a doorway.

  Shandell quickly scanned the dim, windowless storeroom, its walls lined with shelves of neatly arranged boxes, jars, and fabric. “Thanks, but there’s no door. Gary could just walk right in here, and he probably will. Maybe I should go out the back way …”

  Elsie stepped behind Shandell, her compact body blocking her from backing away. “What’s your name?”

  “Shandell Darby. I live in Baltimore, and I don’t know how I ended up here with Gary, but I just want to get away from him and go home.” Shandell didn’t mean to blurt out her life story, but there it was, bald and true.

  “Then get away, you will.” Elsie nodded at the storeroom. “But for now, you’re better off in here. We’ll cover you up right good. Put your pack in there and sit on the floor by this wall.”

  Shandell followed Elsie’s instructions. First she stashed her backpack inside a wooden love chest with a seat that opened. Then she huddled up against the wall by the shelves holding bolts of fabric.

  “Now, this is thin muslin cloth, so I reckon you’ll be able to breathe through it,” Elsie said as she unwound a bolt of tan cloth. She opened the material and doubled it up so that it would cover Shandell. Then she slid the bolt onto the shelf just above Shandell’s head. “There. How’s that?” Elsie asked.

  “I feel like a mummy. Can you see me?”

  “No.” Elsie patted Shandell’s head gently, then adjusted the cloth again. “Are you good under there?”

  “Fine.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll be out front, but you just sit tight.”

  She was about to thank Elsie, but the Amish shopkeeper’s footsteps were already receding. Shandell pressed against the wall. If she closed her eyes and melted into the floor and wall, maybe she would be invisible to Gary.

  Shandell took comfort in the voices from the main shop. Elsie seemed to know how to please customers, and the Amish guy had a deep, low voice that complemented Elsie’s high-pitched tone.

  The place had a peaceful atmosphere, like one of the scenes in the paintings by the storeroom door, with patchwork fields lined by purple hills, black hats on hooks, a horse and buggy silhouetted by a brilliant orange sunset. For a few minutes, Shandell let herself float in the good memories of the past few days.

  Then, with a jingle of the door bells, she felt him enter the shop.

  “I’m looking for my girlfriend.” Gary’s voice chilled the air. “We were just on our way home, and we stopped in town.”

  Liar. She wasn’t his girlfriend. And he wasn’t going to take her home. It was all an act.

  Tears of frustration and anger sprang from her eyes. How did she get into this mess?

  “Did you see a girl with black hair?” Gary asked.

  “Lots of girls like that around here,” Elsie answered.

  “Yeah, but hers is sort of tinted blue.”

  “You can take
a look.”

  “I figure she went off to browse in a shop and lost track of time,” Gary said. “You know how women are.”

  His voice was growing louder, a sign that he was creeping closer. Shandell clenched her jaw, fighting to remain very still. She held her breath as she sensed him closing in on her.

  Was he in the storeroom?

  Go away! Leave me alone.

  To keep from quivering, she imagined herself floating away from him on a thick white cloud.

  “All right. Whatever.” His voice, coming from the shop once again, let her breathe again. He talked with Elsie a minute more, turning on the charm. Then, at last, he said good-bye.

  Shandell’s heartbeat began to steady as the bells jingled. A minute later, she heard Elsie’s voice.

  “He’s gone, but you best stay put for a few minutes, in case he pops back in.”

  Shandell spoke through the muslin. “Thank you. I … I really need a break from him.”

  “I’ll say. He talks sweet, but I wouldn’t trust him. He made off with two bars of lavender soap. Tucked them right up under his shirt.”

  “He did? I’m so sorry.” Shandell thought of the few dollar bills she had hidden in a pocket of her backpack. “I’ll pay you for them.”

  “No need,” Elsie said. “From the looks of him, I reckon he could put the soap to good use.”

  A few minutes later, Shandell still felt shaky as she emerged from her fabric cocoon. Elsie peered into the storeroom while she was smoothing out the muslin and wrapping it neatly.

  “I can’t thank you enough.” Shandell replaced the bolt of fabric and stepped back into the shop, where the Amish man was tending to customers. She kept her voice low, not wanting to make a scene. “Really. I … I had to get away from him.”

  Elsie nodded, her brown eyes wide with concern. “How will you get back home? Baltimore is too far to walk.”

  “I’m hoping my mom will come pick me up.” Shandell swallowed against the knot in her throat. That was going to be a difficult phone call to make, but she was ready to apologize. “I want to go home,” she said, her voice raspy with emotion.