A Simple Hope

by Rosalind Lauer

  “That’s enough.” He turned to her, but his expression was frosty. “If I wanted more advice, I’d be sitting here listening to my dat make plans for me. I thought you, at least, would be on my side.”

  “But I am on your side.” Rachel took his hand, holding it tight when he tried to pull away. “I’ve been by your side through this whole thing, and I’m not going away, James. So you can turn the table over or tell me to leave, but I’ll always be nearby. I’ll never stop loving you.”

  He snorted. “Not much of me left to love.”

  “You know that’s not true.” She pressed his hand to her cheek, then placed a kiss on his knuckles.

  “Oh, James. The light’s gone from your eyes.” She couldn’t bear it. Pushing out of the rocking chair, she paused beside him, then kneeled down. Leaning against him, she clasped his hand in hers and pressed it to her heart. “Don’t turn away.”

  That brought his dark eyes to meet hers. She used to be able to see so much in his eyes, but tonight they were smoky and mysterious. She snuggled close, the way she used to, and she was relieved to feel James’s fingers grip hers. “Tell me you still love me, James. I need to hear it from you.”

  “I do love you,” he breathed. “But it’s all so … it’s wrong now. You can’t be expected to marry half a man.”

  “Hush. I’m going to marry the man I love,” she said with her ear pressed to the broad wall of his chest. “Hmm. Heart still beating. And still breathing. Well.” She lifted her head to peer into his smoky eyes. “Still alive, though I’d never guess that, considering your part in this conversation.”

  James ran his fingertips over the line of her jaw, down her neck, and across her shoulder. His touch still sent tiny stars of sensation tingling along her skin. Did he feel the same thing? His eyes seemed vacant, his thoughts a million miles away.

  He shook his head, his face gone white as a cloud. “It’s all over for me if I can’t get out of this chair. I know the orchard well—I’ve got a map of every tree in my mind—but I can’t really work it without the legs Gott gave me. And I can never get married.”

  His words cut through her like fat thorns, but she tried to reason away the pain. “No one says a man has to be able to walk to get married,” she pointed out. “There are plenty of things you can do from your chair. You’ve proven that to everyone, tending to yourself, making coffee, and doing so many chores from a wheelchair.”

  “I’ll go crazy if I have to be stuck this way the rest of my life. Verhuddelt. And if that happens, I’m not going to make you suffer, too.”

  “I wouldn’t give up on you,” she argued. “If it’s not Gott’s will for you to walk again, we can make do, make some changes. We can get a place in town. I could paint and send my paintings in to that gallery, and you could do the bookkeeping for the orchard, like your dat said. It wouldn’t be so bad. You know, I never felt that I was well suited for farm life. To me, a house in town would be a dream come true.”

  The strong, sturdy arms that had embraced her slipped away. “Are you saying that it’s okay for me to be crippled because you can get the easy city life you’ve always wanted?”

  “What?” Rachel straightened away from the warmth of his chest, shocked to hear her words twisted. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

  “It’s what you said. Your dream come true—a house in town. And you would have me leave the orchard? Just like Dat. You don’t think I can handle the trees anymore.”

  “I didn’t say that. James, listen a minute. I—”

  “You’d better go.” His arms went stiff, nudging her away.

  Bewildered, she stood up. “James, don’t push me away. I was just trying to—”

  “It’s late, and a girl like you shouldn’t be out alone on the road late at night. There’s a reason why the fella does the courting.”

  Rachel hated leaving like this. This was supposed to be a wonderful good night for them, like her dream in the orchard. She had imagined them joking and laughing. Talking about matters, small and large. Sitting together and holding each other close. How she longed to feel his strong arms around her, his warmth warding off the chill of night, dissolving the dread of worry. Tonight, she had hoped to snuggle close with James and remember all the reasons she loved him.

  Instead, his muscular arms had pushed her farther away.

  Disappointment lay heavy on her shoulders as she plodded off toward her horse and buggy. “Pansy, kumm.” As she gave her horse the instruction to go, she was grateful to be by herself under the dark, velvety sky. At least this was one time when she could be alone with her tears.

  Shandell had never known such darkness. She had walked miles from the lights of town, far from streetlights and brightly lit rows of houses with the blue light of televisions flickering in the windows. Out in these parts, most of the farms were owned by Amish people who did not have electricity in their homes, and the few lights she saw in windows burned with the softer glow of kerosene lamps.

  It seemed like she’d been walking forever, but it had probably only been a few hours since she had headed out of Halfway with her pack on her back and tears rolling down her cheeks. At least she had managed to hold it together in the sheriff’s office, where they’d let her use the phone to call home. It would have been mortifying to cry in front of the dispatcher and the deputy. As it was, she felt like a fool. A stupid runaway. Only at age eighteen, she wasn’t even considered to be a runaway anymore.

  She was an adult, free to leave home anytime she wanted. The problem was, no one told you that you might not be free to return home.

  When Elsie and Ruben had closed up shop around six, Shandell had thanked them and moved on to the library. No one seemed to mind when she sat at a table, reading quietly until closing time. She knew her mother worked at the laundry until nine, and next time she called, she had to catch her.

  She timed things right, walking through the dark town for a few minutes before she found her way to the sheriff’s office. The female dispatcher had narrowed her eyes suspiciously when she saw Shandell’s large backpack. But once Shandell sat down and spilled her story, Melanie Bamburger clucked her tongue in sympathy.

  “Poor thing. I have a nineteen-year-old daughter at home, and I would be up all night worrying if she took off. Your mother must be freaking out.”

  Shandell shrugged. It hadn’t sounded that way when she’d called home, but then Phil was not a great communicator. “I really miss my mom. We had a fight before I left.”

  “Aw. Are you hungry?” With a cloud of brown hair that curled softly above her shoulders and rectangular-framed glasses with rhinestones on the edges, Mel had the soft but authoritative manner of a mother hen. “We’ve got some gnarly snacks in the machine here, but the pizza place across the street is still open, and I’ll send you for a slice.”

  Shandell thanked her for the offer, but told her she had been given some food by the young woman at the country store.

  “Elsie Lapp? She’s a sweetheart,” Mel said knowingly.

  “She really saved me,” Shandell said, realizing that she’d been fortunate to duck into the Country Store when she’d been running from Gary. “My friend was getting really weird. He kept promising to take me home, but we were just driving around in circles.”

  “Sounds like you were right to give him the slip. But now you’re in a bit of a pickle, hon. Social services would intervene and get you home if you were under eighteen. Since you’re legally an adult, there’s not a lot I can do for you.”

  Shandell told Mel that she just wanted to go home. “Can I use your phone to call my mom? I’m sure she’ll come and get me.”

  “Sure thing.” Mel had set her up at an empty desk, with a bottle of water and a box of tissues. “In case you get emotional, like me,” the older woman said.

  This time, Shandell’s mother answered, but her response wasn’t half as kind as Mel’s. “Do you have any idea how many sleepless nights I’ve spent worrying about you? And you couldn’t call?
Not even a text to let me know you’re okay?”

  “I’m sorry. At first I was mad. You were mad, too. And then I wanted to call, but the battery ran out on my cell phone and—”

  “So many excuses, Shandell. I’m fed up with your excuses, blaming other people for everything that goes wrong.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve had time to do some thinking, and I know I need to step up. Right now, I just want to come home.”

  “Fine. Come home, then. We didn’t change the locks.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Shandell sat back in the chair, relieved to be heading home soon. “Can you come get me? I’m in a little town called Halfway. It’s in Lancaster County.”

  “That is hours away!” Chelsea Darby let out a sigh of frustration. “I just got home, and I have to work a double shift tomorrow at the laundry. Do you realize what you’re asking? I can’t blow off work or stay up all night driving just because you decided to go on a wild spree with your boyfriend.”

  Shandell swallowed hard over the knot in her throat. She had thought her mother would come, but of course, she hadn’t considered the reality of Mom needing to work. With Phil out of a job, Mom was the only one making money now. She understood that Mom’s jobs were a priority. But still, her heart ached. How could Mom abandon her like this?

  “Gary got you out there,” Chelsea was saying. “Tell him to bring you home.”

  “We’re just friends, Mom. And I’m not with Gary anymore.” Shandell winced. “He was … acting weird.” She didn’t want to announce right in the police station that her friend had been stealing from locals. “I had to get away from him.”

  “Oh, Shandell.” Her name came out in a long sigh of disappointment. “What are we going to do with you?”

  For a second Shandell was going to suggest that her stepfather come for her in the morning, before he’d had a chance to start with the heavy drinking, but she knew that wouldn’t work. Phil didn’t have the desire or focus to make the trip to Lancaster County.

  Shandell eyed the tissue box on the desk as her eyes began to sting. No. She wouldn’t cry here. She had to hold herself together. She didn’t want Mel and the deputy, who was watching from across the room, to know just how much trouble she’d gotten herself into.

  “How are you going to get home?” her mother asked.

  “I don’t know. There’s a bus out of Lancaster and one out of Philly. But Halfway is pretty far from both of those cities, and there’s no bus service here.”

  “Fine. Get yourself to the city and take the bus, then.”

  “But, Mom?” Shandell turned away and lowered her voice, mindful that Mel was watching. “I need you to send me some money. Like through a wire service or something.”

  “You don’t have money with you? What about your savings?”

  “I brought some cash, but we used it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were planning to stay with Gary’s sister.”

  “And how did that work out for you?” Mom asked.

  “You know it didn’t.”

  “I don’t know what to do.” Chelsea Darby sounded exhausted, her voice cracking with stress. “I don’t have the spare cash to wire money to you, and I don’t even know if I trust you anymore. How can I be sure Gary didn’t put you up to this? You know I never trusted him or any of those kids who hang out in Ryan’s garage.”

  “This isn’t a trick.” Her mother’s suspicion stung, but Shandell knew she deserved it. “I just want to come home.”

  “And honestly, I don’t know how to make that happen. My next day off is Friday. Thursday night is the soonest I can come for you. But what would you do until then?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just hitchhike home.”

  Across the room, Mel was shaking her head vigorously. “Bad plan. Hitchhiking is too dangerous for a young woman.”

  “The police here don’t think hitchhiking is safe,” Shandell said.

  “They’re right, and I want you to stay safe. But, Shandell, I can’t drop everything to come and get you. And you shouldn’t expect that.”

  Shandell bit her lower lip, swallowing back the knot of emotion in her throat.

  “You are eighteen. It’s time to grow up. I feel terrible about this, and you know I’m worried about you but … you need to find somewhere safe to stay until I can drive up on Thursday. Maybe a campground or something.”

  “Okay. I’ll figure out something.” Shandell could not miss the raw emotion in her mother’s voice as they said good-bye.

  “How’d it go?” Mel asked, cocking her head to one side. “Is she coming to get you?”

  “She’s on her way,” Shandell said brightly, keeping the happy mask on her face.

  “That’s good.” The police dispatcher looked out the precinct window toward Main Street. “You want to get some pizza while you’re waiting? My treat.”

  “No, thanks. I’m not really hungry.” That part was true.

  “Did you tell Mom to pick you up here? You can hang out there in the waiting area. We’re about the only thing in Halfway that’s open all night, except for the 7-Eleven on the other side of town.”

  Shandell hesitated. Where was she going to go? Halfway was too small for a bus station or a public place where she could spend the night, and she knew these people wouldn’t like the idea of a homeless girl roaming their streets for the next few days. “You know, maybe I will wait for her here.” Shandell didn’t mean it, but it would be a warm place to stay until she could come up with another plan.

  She settled into a comfortable chair and checked her backpack to make sure her cherished book was there. She would have liked to take it out and skim over the familiar Bible stories with their colorful illustrations, but it would be too embarrassing for anyone to see her reading a children’s book. Mel came to the rescue with a stack of magazines, a warm blanket, and a hot cup of tea. “If your mom’s coming from Baltimore, you got a few hours. Try to get some sleep.”

  She did. The comfort and safety of the waiting room allowed Shandell to doze off, stretched out on the vinyl-cushioned couch.

  When she woke up, the clock on the wall was swinging toward four o’clock. It was still dark out, but Shandell felt a little better. Mom always said that things would feel better in the morning. Well, it would be morning in a few hours.

  Mel was gone, and the deputy was talking on the phone with the dispatcher’s headset on. She figured that Mel was probably on break. It was a good time to leave. She appreciated the woman’s kindness, but Shandell knew that Halfway’s police department wouldn’t let her camp here for the week. She had to leave—before Mel realized that Shandell had been lying to her.

  She left the folded blanket and the stack of magazines on the counter. The deputy glanced up and she gave him a friendly wave, then headed out the door.

  Her backpack didn’t seem so heavy anymore, but now loneliness was a dull ache that made her feel hollow inside. So cold and empty. Her life was in ruins, like the bag of scraps in Elsie’s shop. But while Elsie could finish patches and sew them into a beautiful quilt, Shandell was clueless when it came to piecing her life together.

  Feeling like the last person awake in the world, she plodded down the road in search of open land.

  The old one-room shack was rustic, and super isolated. Shandell had turned down a farm lane and walked for at least a mile, following as it passed a dark farmhouse and narrowed into more of a footpath. Her plan had been to zip into her sleeping bag under the cover of some trees or bushes, but when she came upon the old deserted outbuilding, she began to think that maybe God hadn’t forgotten her, after all.

  There was no electricity that she could find, but there were plenty of matches and a big black woodstove with a stack of dry wood beside it. The small fire she’d built chased away the damp cold inside the hut, and the kerosene lantern gave her enough light to do a quick cleanup of cobwebs and dust with the broom she’d found leaning against one wall. Once she brushed off the two stackable plastic chairs an
d the wooden bench, the place actually took on a warm personality.

  Now that the cabin was relatively clean and warming up, she unzipped the sleeping bag from her backpack and spread it out on the wooden bench across from the fireplace. Good thing she’d brought that! She had thought she might need it to sleep on the floor at Gary’s sister’s house. She rooted around inside her pack until she found the plastic bag that had remained stashed away during most of the trip. Her fingers framed the book inside. Many times she had longed to take the book out and lose herself in the familiar pages, but she didn’t dare let Gary see. She knew he’d mock her, either with laughter or with a speech about how she was eighteen years old and should be done with children’s books.

  Shandell couldn’t count the nights when she’d been soothed by this little blue book. Sometimes just the colorful illustrations and encouraging captions gave her comfort. Nestled inside the sleeping bag, she opened the book, inhaling the sweet scent of the pages.

  The book fell open to a chapter about the parting of the Red Sea. A wicked king was being mean to God’s people, so God told Moses to lead the people away. But the king and his soldiers chased them. She thought of her escape from Gary that day. It seemed like long ago, but the snap of fear was still vivid in her mind. She understood the fear the Israelites must have felt at being chased from their homeland. Turning the page, she saw the happy little cricket holding a banner with the word of the lesson: Safe. “God’s love keeps us safe,” she read aloud.

  With a deep breath, she let the open book fall on her chest as she took in the raw wood beams of the shack and the uneven wooden boards that made up the ceiling. Even in a deserted shack in the middle of nowhere, God knew where she was, and He had the power to keep her safe.

  She snuggled into the puffy ridge of her sleeping bag and closed her eyes. Maybe she wasn’t ready for the real world. If growing up meant giving away the book that soothed her troubled mind, well, then she would never grow up.