A Simple Hope

by Rosalind Lauer

  He nodded. “James. How old are you?”

  “Eighteen. Too old to be a runaway. That’s what the police told me.”

  And you can’t stay here. You need to go. It’s time to move on.

  There were a million ways to send this Englisher on her way, but somehow James couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

  What was wrong with him? Paralyzed legs, and now a frozen tongue, too?

  “Is it James Lapp? I mean, the sign said the Lapp orchards, and I met a girl named Elsie Lapp at the Country Store in Halfway. Do you know her?”

  “Elsie is my cousin.”

  “Really? She’s awesome. She saved my life yesterday.”

  “Is that so?” He hadn’t heard any recent stories of Elsie’s good deeds, but then Elsie would never be so proud as to talk about herself that way.

  “She helped get me out of a very scary situation. I was trying to get away from this guy … Gary? I thought he was my friend, but I was so wrong about that. I was wrong about a lot of things. And by the time I figured it all out, we were here in Lancaster County, miles from home. He sort of turned on me. I was really scared, but Elsie helped me hide. She is one brave girl. And after Gary left, she and Ruben gave me some food. And Elsie showed me how to finish a patch for a quilt.” She shifted to the side to reach down into her backpack. “She even gave me my own little rag bag to keep working on.” She smoothed out a lavender patch with finished edges.

  “That sounds like Elsie.” His cousin had a heart of gold. “So. This bad friend is gone. Why don’t you go home?”

  “I’ve got no way to get there. No money for the bus, and Baltimore is too far to walk.”

  “Baltimore, Maryland?”

  She nodded. “My mom is going to come get me, but she can’t do it until Thursday night. She works two jobs, and that’s the soonest she can get away. Do you think I could stay here until then? I won’t cause any problems for you, James. I’ll stay out of the orchards, and I’ve got enough granola bars and stuff to last me until then.”

  He knew the answer to that had to be no. Dat would not want an Englisher staying on their land, especially after his decision to restrict outsiders from their home. He drew in a breath to tell her, but something about this girl brought him to a place he hadn’t known for many months. A place of compassion.

  “For you to stay here … it’s not allowed,” he said, thinking of his father’s rules.

  “I know, I’m not Amish. I don’t belong here, but please don’t kick me out. I won’t mess anything up. And I promise you, I’ll leave on Thursday. It’s just a few days. Please. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”

  James frowned. A mouse would not make a good guest. A mouse scratched around in the wall and made a mess of things. No, this girl could not stay.

  Open on the bench was a child’s book of Bible stories. That did not seem to match the teen sitting in front of him. A stranger and an outsider. An Englisher.

  But underneath all that, she was just a frightened girl. She could be one of his sisters, gone astray during rumspringa. This one needed help.

  “You can stay the night,” he said. Not even Dat would send a young woman packing after nightfall.

  “Thank you.” Her eyes swam with relief. “It’s weird, being out here in the middle of nowhere, but last night I really slept. I feel safe here.”

  The middle of nowhere? He squinted. Didn’t she know she was sleeping in the back acres of a family orchard? Shandell seemed sweet, but not very wise of the world. “That’s good. But till Thursday is a long time, and we’re not in the business of putting up strangers here. It would be good if you could find some other place to go tomorrow.”

  Before Dat or anyone else sees you back here.

  She nodded. “I’ll work on that. First thing in the morning.”

  “All right.” As he switched off the brakes and turned the wheelchair, he realized that Shandell was one of those rare people who spoke to him without even seeming to notice that he was in a wheelchair.

  “Good night,” she called, as he headed out the door into the darkness.

  He wouldn’t have minded staying and talking some more, but he didn’t want to arouse concern back at the house. He didn’t want Dat coming out this way to search for him.

  “Good night,” he answered without looking back. There was a curious ripple in his chest as he rolled into the velvety dark of the April night. An odd feeling of responsibility.

  The memory of Shandell’s face in a pool of light, the way her legs swung from the bench, too short to reach the ground. Shandell needed to be taken care of. And right now, James was the person Gott had chosen to do that.

  PART TWO

  The Long Road to Paradise

  For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face-to-face:

  Now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

  And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three;

  But the greatest of these is charity.

  —1 CORINTHIANS 13:12-13

  Rachel sat in the patch of moonlight spilling into the attic room and added dots of silver to the starry sky of her painting. Behind her, Rose’s breath whispered in a steady rhythm, a reminder that it really was time to sleep. Anyone who saw Rachel now would think she was verhuddelt! Crazy to be awake so late at night.

  But after such a day of hurt feelings and raw emotion, this was just the thing to soothe her. There was something calming about Gott’s magnificent sky, and as she added dots of purple, blue, white, and silver to her painting, she felt her sorrows begin to fade ever so slightly.

  Moving close to the canvas, she painted tiny lines radiating out from the stars.

  She didn’t quite understand why painting eased her burdens. Sometimes she wondered why Gott made her to think that way, in bits of color and light. It was not the Amish way. True art was viewed as self-expression, and the Amish believed that garnered feelings of pride and superiority—hochmut. That seemed funny to her, since she didn’t feel proud about her art. It was just something that flowed from her, and that was that.

  All done with the silver, she plunged her brush into a jar of water and stood up to get a closer look out the window. Under the starry sky, the lawn stretched away from the house, the dark grass crossed by pale paths and lanes.

  It wasn’t hard to remember how James had stood down there in the yard, courting her on Saturday nights last year. He used to shine the beam of a flashlight on her window to let her know he was here, and she would rush downstairs, padding quietly in bare feet, and let him in. He would add some wood to the embers in the stove, and she would ease into his arms, secure in his embrace, secure in his love.

  A few times in the winter they had met at the sugar shack for innocent but delicious kisses by the fire. Now, as she hugged herself to ward off the chill, she tried to remember the wonderful warmth of being in James’s arms. His strength had made her feel secure and safe. She had believed that there was no problem they could not solve if they worked together. And his unquenchable sense of humor had promised a lifetime of laughter.

  Once, when he was visiting while she was working on a scrap-book page for a sick cousin, James had penciled in a little joke while she wasn’t watching.

  What starts with T, ends with T, and is full of T? Answer: Teapot.

  “What a rascal he could be,” she said aloud, and then looked behind her, glad to find that Rose was still sleeping. Sadie was the only person she’d told about what had happened that day. The ache in her heart was still too raw as she wondered if she was really losing James. Had his love for her drained away like his sense of humor?

  She pulled a quilt over her shoulders and tiptoed across the cold wood floor to the dresser. There was the clock James had given her, a pretty round face with fancy arrows, set behind clear plastic with silver trim. It had been an engagement gift, a private thing between a fella and his girl. When she moved downstairs, she’d left it up here, thinking it would be safe until she and J
ames were married and moving into a home together. But now that their engagement was in question, should she give the clock back?

  No, that would be like saying she didn’t love James anymore. She wasn’t going to give in so easily.

  Pressing the clock to her heart, she remembered how she had refused his words.

  You and me, we don’t belong together.

  Ha! He had a lot of nerve saying that. Didn’t he know how those words would break her heart?

  She had fended him off, but now she wasn’t sure where she stood with him. It was a terrible mess, and she didn’t know how to fix it.

  With a sigh, she turned away from her paintings and headed downstairs to bed. The house was silent now, but come four A.M., Mamm and Dat and the men would rise to tend to the cows and other chores. Along with the scuffle of her feet, she heard the small beat of the clock’s second hand.

  Downstairs, she huddled under the quilts and placed the clock at the edge of her pillow. She couldn’t make it out in the darkness, but she heard it ticking softly. She yawned, listening as time moved on. This was the thing James didn’t understand. True love would beat on, like the flapping wings of a bird, like the beating of a heart.

  Wheels turning, spinning endlessly. Arms pumping, pushing … the images had filled James’s mind the whole night through. In his dream, he had made the trip into Paradise on his own, simply by propelling his wheelchair along the side of the paved road, one ferocious push at a time. All to get himself to Dr. Finley’s clinical treatment on time.

  The dream still held him when he awoke at three A.M., drenched in sweat, his biceps aching. As he washed and dressed, thoughts of escape clung to him. Much as he wanted to take control of the situation, he knew that it would take all day and half the night to wheel himself the many miles into Paradise. He needed another plan … a way to get to town without relying on anyone in his family. After Dat’s order about staying Plain, the only solution would be to turn to someone else in the Amish community. There were plenty of folks willing to help, but many of them would be put off by the opinions of Dat and Bishop Samuel. Once they heard of their concern over this new test as well as their disapproval of James’s associations with the Englishers, well, most folks wouldn’t walk into that tangle of thorns.

  He rolled his wheelchair out of his bedroom and was surprised by the smell of coffee, savory and warm. Who was up before him?

  “James.” Mamm’s voice, low and quiet, caught him before he spied her bending over to poke at the fire in the woodstove. “Come. Have coffee.”

  “It smells good, Mamm.” He maneuvered over to the hutch, where he lifted two mugs from their hooks. He stowed them in the chair’s side pocket, wheeled over to the table, and set the cups on the vinyl tablecloth. “Nothing quite like coffee first thing in the morning.”

  “Ya.” The door of the stove closed with a squeak, and Mamm straightened, wiping her hands on her apron. “I knew I’d have to get up before the birds to catch you.”

  “Ya. It’s early to bed, early to rise for me.”

  “I reckon it’s easy to get up before dawn when you don’t stay out late at singings and such.”

  Was this going to be about him refusing to go to social functions? Another push for him to settle into a life in this chair? James’s chest grew tight as she poured a cup of black liquid into his mug. He used to add milk, but since the accident he’d started drinking it black, savoring the bold bitterness, so like his new life. He took a sip now, silent as Mamm placed her mug beside the cutting board and began to chop baked potatoes left over from Saturday’s supper. Nothing went to waste in an Amish kitchen.

  “Hash browns for breakfast?” James asked.

  Edna nodded. “And scrambled eggs. You’ll want a good breakfast in your belly for the trip to Paradise.”

  James gripped the mug. “Paradise?” Had he heard right? “Are you talking about going to the clinic? The treatment with Dr. Finley?”

  “Ya. I’ve been thinking on it, and this is a time when we must call on our friends and family, find someone in the community who’d be willing to drive a buggy for us. We’ll supply the horse and all.”

  “It’s a big task, a lot to ask.” Despite his doubts, James felt a weight lifting. “The treatment has to be every day, seven days a week. For who knows how long.”

  Mamm nodded, and as she faced him, James noticed the new creases at the outer edges of her eyes, and that there was more silver in the hair scraped back beneath her prayer kapp. His injuries had taken a toll on her, too. “But if it’s a task worth doing, it’s worth doing right. I would have put the word out yesterday after church, but I didn’t want to cross your father.”

  James frowned, his lips taut against his teeth. “He doesn’t want me to get the treatment.”

  “That’s not true.” Mamm held an onion to the cutting board and cropped off the papery skin at the end. “We talked about it last night, and he’s right fine with it as long as you take support from our community, not from the Englishers.”

  “Mmm.” James took another sip of coffee to mask his concern. This would all be so easy if Dat would allow Dylan or a hired driver to transport him. But this treatment was so important to James, and he was glad for a way to get to Paradise without crossing his father and the bishop. “I’ll do anything I can to get there, Mamm. Even if I have to wheel myself down the road.” He told her about his dream, about the hours of strained muscles and dust.

  Edna clucked her tongue. “I think we can do better than you wheeling yourself. I’m going to ask Gabe King or Lois Mast if they can take you in each morning.”

  James nearly choked on his coffee. “The bishop’s wife?” Lois had a stern way about her. “I’m not sure I’m ready to spend so much time with the bishop’s eyes and ears.”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers.” Mamm didn’t look up as she diced the onion. “She’s been a great help with fund-raising and all.”

  “I’m thankful for that. But would you try Gabe first? I’d rather ride with a man.”

  Mamm nodded. “I’ll try, but Gabe will need to be back in the afternoon for milking. For today, I’ll take you in this morning. I can stop at the bulk store on my way home. And Mark will go in and pick you up when he gets home from school.”

  “Little Mark?” Twelve-year-old Mark was right good with horses, but he didn’t have much experience driving a buggy yet. “He’s never ridden alone into Halfway, and Paradise is twice as far.”

  “It’s time he learned. Right now, he’s the only one who can be spared around here, and he’s eager to do it. He’s a good boy, James, and he wants to help you.”

  Were the tears in her eyes from the onion, or the high emotion of the situation? Suddenly, James wanted to kick himself. All these months, he had been so wrapped up in his own pain, he hadn’t thought of how the accident had affected his mother. Mamm wanted the best for her firstborn son. She wanted James to walk again, and she was doing everything in her power to make it so.

  “Mark will learn by doing,” James said. “It’s a right good plan, Mamm.” Grateful, he nodded at his mother, wishing that he could undo the creases and gray hairs and worries of the past months.

  “We do what we can.” Her thin lips curved slightly, and James caught a glimmer of that whimsical light in her eyes, an enjoyment he’d seen there when she served up a slice of pie or savored a good joke. Edna Lapp hadn’t always been a stern woman; it was the difficulties of the past few months that had dulled her smile like a worn blade.

  As his mother turned away and scraped potatoes and onions into the sizzling fry pan, James breathed in the mouthwatering smells and savored the new hope in his heart. No one but Gott in heaven knew for sure whether or not he’d be able to walk again. But now at least he had a chance.

  Down in the kitchen, Rachel and Mamm were well into frying bacon and grating cheese when Rose came down the stairs, barefoot and bleary-eyed.

  “What’s for breakfast?” she asked.

  “We’re m
aking the bacon and egg casserole,” Rachel said with a smile. The dish, a baked combination of hard-boiled eggs, Colby cheese, and cream of mushroom soup, was a favorite of the King children. They especially liked it served over Mamm’s flaky biscuits.

  “We’re just finishing the bacon, so you’ve got plenty of time to help with the milking first,” Mamm told Rose, who was breaking off a corner from a slice of crispy bacon.

  “Off with you now,” Betsy told her daughter. “It’s the early bird who should be getting the bacon.”

  “I was tired this morning,” Rose said as the door to the mud room closed behind her.

  “Out late with a fella.” Mamm turned to Rachel. “Did she tell you?”

  “I heard bits and pieces when she came in,” Rachel said, “but I’m sure I’ll hear more about it later.” This was big news. Rose had just started her rumspringa, and she so longed to catch a fella’s eye.

  “And why didn’t you go to the singing last night? Last I checked, you’re still a single youth.”

  “James has trouble getting out to singings,” Rachel said. She didn’t want to mention that James might not be her beau anymore. The uncertainty of it all made her feel prickly inside.

  “You’ve a good heart, Rachel, but no one expects you to marry James anytime soon. The accident changed all that, and you can’t argue with the hand of Gott.”

  “I know, Gott doesn’t make mistakes.” Rachel pressed her lips together as she scooped diced onion into the pan of hot bacon grease. There was no arguing with Gott … or Mamm. Still, no one would stop her from loving James. “But that doesn’t change things for me and James.”