With a sigh, she headed down toward the little creek. It was nice of James to let her stay here—she was grateful for that—but it was lonely. She crossed her arms over her chest, embracing the book that she had tucked under her zipped hoodie. After Dad died, the book of Bible stories had stayed in the back of a drawer for a long time, tucked away like so many memories. It wasn’t until Shandell was fifteen and helping Mom pack up the apartment to move in with Phil that she had discovered the book she had loved as a little kid.
The heel of her boot slipped on loose stones, and she hopped down closer to the creek and walked along until she found a sunny patch with a brown stone, perfect for sitting. Was this a fishing creek? Did James ever come here with his brothers and sisters? She figured there would be lots of them, because she’d read that Amish people usually had lots of kids.
Unzipping her jacket, she opened her book and leafed through the pages of colorful illustrations surrounded by decorative borders.
The book fell open to the story of the wise builder, Shandell’s favorite.
In Matthew chapter seven, Jesus told the story of a wise man who built his house on rock. When the rains came and the streams rose and the winds blew, the house was fine because its foundation was solid rock. But another man who built his house on sand? The rain and wind made it collapse.
Shandell liked the picture of builders carrying rocks, and another of a cute little stone house with two windows that resembled eyes. The story that Jesus had told was such a good lesson in life: to lay your foundation on your solid faith, not on false promises and people who will shift away like sand under your feet.
Wow, she’d really fallen for that one, hadn’t she? She’d only read this story a hundred times, and yet she had been foolish enough to trust Gary. Any house he built would be like a sand castle on the beach.
What had happened to her? She used to be such a good kid. She used to get along with her mom. But things had begun to fall apart last year when Phil lost his job. In the beginning, Phil had made Mom happy, and he’d been an easygoing guy, back when he was working.
But now? Phil was miserable, and he took it out on everyone around him. Usually, that was Shandell, who had the responsibility of keeping the house clean and putting together some kind of dinner each night while Mom was working.
In a couple of days, she’d be back home, serving miserable Phil again. She smoothed her fingertips over the orange border of the picture. She wanted to go home to Mom, but she wished that she never had to face Phil again.
Oh, grow up, Shanny.
He’s your mom’s husband now, and he’s not a bad person.
It was Phil’s drinking that made their lives so unstable. Somehow, it felt better to blame the alcohol. When Phil started drinking, the rock foundation had crumbled. Their house had shifted on its foundation of sand.
And now it was all tumbling down.
Well, not really. Shandell knew she occasionally exaggerated things. And she would be missing the point of the story about the wise builder if she blamed her unhappiness on Phil’s drinking. Shandell was the one who had run off with Gary. That had been her house of sand. And as soon as she got home, she was going to have a heart-to-heart with Mom. She wasn’t sure what to say about Phil, but it would be good to be honest with Mom again.
The sound of a man’s voice made her heart leap. “Hallo?” his voice thundered.
Adrenaline popped in her veins. She closed the book and clasped it under one arm as she jumped up and turned toward the creek.
Someone was coming …
Such a glorious day!
Rachel knew that April showers were needed for spring flowers, but she enjoyed the bright splash of colors that emerged with the first flowers of the season, along with the sunshine that made her feel calm and smooth as melted butter.
The good weather made for a perfect laundry day, and already Rachel and her mamm had taken in two loads of laundry, fresh and dry from the sun. With more clothes and sheets to pin to the line once this batch was dry, Betsy had told Rachel she could set up her easel out in the yard and paint while the laundry was drying.
“There’s not much time for too many other chores on a big laundry day,” Mamm said. As long as she stayed mindful of the time and took care not to get any paint on the clean washing, Rachel could paint outside beside the hanging clothes.
Now she swirled her brush in a blob of pink that was so bright, she had to smile. She had decided to cover her sorrow and brighten the shadows in her heart with wild, loud colors. These paintings were different from the quaint, pastoral scenes of cows and barns and quilts on a clothesline. One canvas showed a close-up of clothes hanging on the line, but these dresses were the deepest blues, brightest reds, and sunniest yellows she had ever seen. On another canvas, she had painted purple pears. There were also blue hens and the silhouette of a simple house with a pink and orange April sunset heating the sky behind it.
All in all, it had been a good day of painting and laundry. Rachel was happy to balance the fun of painting with a chore that kept the house in order.
The sun was dipping low in the sky when a gray buggy came up the lane. It was one of the Lapps’ horses, with Edna Lapp driving. She expected James’s mother to continue on to the barn and visit with Betsy, but the buggy paused right beside the daffodils that bordered the lane near Rachel. Quickly, she placed her palette on the grass and walked over to greet Edna.
“I’m on my way to talk with Gideon Yoder, but I wanted to stop in and visit you.” Edna wrapped the reins around the stub and stepped to the ground. Her face looked drawn and tired.
“Do you want some tea?” Rachel offered.
“No time for that, and I haven’t much of a stomach for it after this afternoon. Such a scare there was! Mark was driving James home from Paradise, and the new horse went wild. Pulled their buggy off the road.”
Oh, no! Rachel’s stomach dropped. As the memory of the van accident began to stir anxiety, Rachel’s fingers found the pins in her apron. “Is everyone okay?”
“Mark and James are fine. James was able to stop the horse, but not before it tore through some of the Yoders’ spinach. We’ll need to patch up the field.”
“I’m glad everyone’s okay. I’m sure the Yoders will understand.”
“We’re grateful it wasn’t worse. Jimmy was reluctant to buy this horse, and I suppose we should have thought better than to take on a Morgan named Rowdy. It’s hard to train a horse that’s been subjected to harsh conditions. But Mark had his heart set, and he’s been working with the horse.”
Rachel knew that James’s younger brother had a way with horses. Loving and patient, Mark enjoyed training and grooming them—a necessary chore in every Amish home. “Some horses are more stubborn than others,” Rachel said. “I’m sure Mark will have Rowdy in line soon.”
“Gott willing. But it made me see that Mark is too young and inexperienced to be driving into Paradise. He was bringing James home from his new procedure. Electric wires to heal his legs! Isn’t that a strange thing?”
“James told me about it. I pray that it helps him.”
“He still has hope. His dat, not so much.”
Rachel noticed lines of weariness around Edna’s eyes, and she thought of the hospital vigil and steadfast care Edna had provided for her son. So many long hours.
“And what do you make of it, Edna?” Rachel asked. “Do you think this could help James?”
“I know my son. Right now, he needs to return to the orchard he loves. If this will help him get back on his feet, then I’m grateful to Gott and the Englisher doctors.
“I know you two are planning to marry, and I know you’ve tried to support James. He just doesn’t appreciate Gott’s blessings right now, but he could use your help. He’s going to need a daily ride into Paradise for this new therapy. His dat doesn’t approve, and I can’t be doing it every day.”
A ride to Paradise … Rachel wished it was that simple. She would cherish the chance to h
elp James, but if he rejected her in front of his mamm and his family, that she couldn’t bear.
“I want to help,” she told Edna, “but James doesn’t want me around anymore. He said so.”
“Did he, now? He’s been a mite grumpy lately. Can’t say I blame him on that. But a mother can see past cross words, and I know he’s not grumpy about you. For James, seeing you ride up the lane would be a better sight than rhubarb pie. And we both know he favors rhubarb.”
Rachel blinked back tears as she smiled. “Do you really think so?”
“I know my son. Sometimes he needs a push,” Edna said. “Come around. And if your parents can spare you, it’d be wonderful good to have someone to drive James. Right now, it’s one more hardship that’ll be difficult for our family to bear.” She climbed back into the buggy, and headed down the lane.
Rachel felt lighter, a burden lifted from her heart. She left her easel and the laundry and raced after the buggy.
“Edna!” she called. In a few loping strides, she had caught up with the buggy and waiting horse. “If it’s okay with Mamm and Dat, what time do you need me?”
“Eight would be right fine.” Edna’s smile softened the creases in her face. “See you tomorrow, Gott willing.”
Rachel ran inside to find Mamm. Driving James to Paradise would be a good way to help, and it would give them time together, every day. Oh, please, dear Gott, let Mamm and Dat say yes!
There was hope for James and her. A simple hope.
As soon as his mother had left for the Yoders’, James had rolled out to the sugar shack, not sure what he would find there. He knew Gott’s will would be done, but he hoped that he was in time to stop her from leaving.
It had been quite a day. With the first electric treatment and the buggy incident, James thought he would be exhausted when they reached home. Instead, something had come alive inside him when Mark turned the buggy onto the lane leading through the orchard. As if he could feel the hand of Gott upon his shoulder, James now knew what he had to do.
“Hallo?” he called out, watching for movement as crisp green leaves crackled in the breeze overhead. When he had knocked on the door to the sugar shack, there’d been no answer. Inside, ashes glowed in the woodstove, the wood supply dwindling. He’d been relieved to see her things there, her backpack on the ground. The sleeping bag was neatly spread on the bench.
What would his parents do if one of the girls decided to leave home and travel about like this? Surely Mamm would be riddled with worry over Verena … or Lovina or Hannah when their time for rumspringa came around. It was one thing to let a youth in rumspringa test the boundaries. But if a young person like Shandell asked for help, the Savior himself would not turn her away.
He rolled down the path that ran along the creek, minding to avoid the deepest ruts. Although the rest of the orchard was well-tended, no one groomed the land this far back, which was used just once a year for maple sugaring.
A movement in the scrub to the right caught his eye. He turned to find nothing … and then Shandell’s head popped up from the bushes along the ravine.
“I’m so glad it’s you!” She clasped a hand to her chest dramatically. “I thought I was in big trouble.”
“Because you’re not supposed to be here?”
“Exactly. I was just sitting by the water, trying to think of another place to go.” The sun touched her hair, and it glowed, blue as the pond on a summer day. He hadn’t noticed in the dim light of the sugaring shack last night.
Blue hair? This girl was full of surprises. “That’s something for us to talk about.”
“I know I told you I would leave,” she went on, “but honestly? The last two nights were sort of cozy here, and I’m afraid the next place I try down the road won’t be so kind to me.”
“The sugar shack might serve you well until your mother comes. Let’s talk about this a little bit.” He turned his chair and wheeled around toward the woodpile. Time for her to earn her keep. “I see you’re running low on wood. I’ll show you how to split some more.”
“Really? Okay.” She walked alongside him, then skipped ahead, reminding him of an eager child. “I know where you keep the wood, but I couldn’t find an ax.”
“It’s tucked away, so the blade doesn’t rust.” For the next few minutes, he became the teacher and Shandell was an interested student. From his chair, he was able to sink the ax into the first piece of wood. He showed her how to go for the center, to split along the lines. “Then after you hear it crack, you tap it hard against the stump to separate the remaining chunks and free your ax.”
Resolve shone on her face as she pounded a few times and cracked the fat log into two manageable pieces of wood.
“There you go.”
“Wow.” She grinned, flexing her arms in the air. “I have mad lumberjack skills.”
James couldn’t help but grin. “I reckon.” He showed her how to bundle the wood to make it easier to carry inside. And then Shandell set to splitting another log.
As she worked, she asked him what he did all day.
“Today I went into Paradise to see a doctor.”
“Are you sick?”
Her questions came without embarrassment. She didn’t realize she was crossing a line.
“I’m getting a new treatment. But it was a day full of excitement. On the way home, our horse got spooked and ran off the road.”
“You’re kidding me.” She rested the ax blade on the ground with a thunk. “That must have been scary. Is everyone okay?”
“Lucky for us, Rowdy got slowed down when we tore through a field of spinach. But the field wasn’t so lucky, I reckon.” He took off his hat and rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re going to have to do some more planting in the Yoders’ field.”
When she asked who had been driving, he told her about Mark, who couldn’t be blamed for his inexperience at the age of twelve. “Though he should have listened to Mamm. Rowdy isn’t ready to pull a buggy just yet.”
“Awww. But that’s sweet that your brother is trying to rehabilitate a horse.”
“Ya. Mark is good with horses.”
“Have you been in a buggy accident before?” she asked. “I mean, is that why you’re in a wheelchair?”
He scratched the back of his neck. This girl had nerve, but he was beginning to mind it less and less. Since the accident, too many folks had been tiptoeing around him, as if they thought talking about his injury was going to make it worse. “Not a buggy accident. I was riding in a van, coming home from Philadelphia, and a car hit us on the highway.”
Her eyes grew wide as she set aside an armful of split wood. “That’s terrible. You’d never think of an Amish person being hurt in a car accident. Especially since you’re not supposed to ride in cars, right?”
He explained that his district allowed members to be passengers in automobiles, but they could not own them or drive them.
“When was the accident?” she asked.
“January. I got knocked unconscious, so I don’t remember much.” He explained that the shoulder harness of his seatbelt had malfunctioned, so his spine was jolted when he doubled over. “I hit my head, too. I had a concussion, but that was easy to get over. The paralysis, not so much.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She frowned. “Were your legs broken?”
“My legs are fine; it’s the spine that was damaged. The spinal cord. I’ve been through rehabilitation and some surgeries. It’s a new treatment I started today. The doctors think I might be able to walk again. It’s possible.” He nudged his thighs with his fists. “Isn’t it strange that legs in perfectly good condition can’t work without the message from the brain?” Like the empty shell of a man without Gott’s light inside, he thought.
“I never was good at science,” she said. “I just think the whole human body is one of God’s great miracles. Of course, my biology teacher didn’t really want to hear that answer on a test.” She fingered the gems in her ear. “I guess I’ll never be
a doctor.”
“Me, neither. Plain folk don’t go to school past eighth grade. We pick up a trade, work the family farm. We work close to home.”
“I wish I had a job close to home,” she said wistfully.
“There’s always the cooking and cleaning.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not a job.”
“But it needs to get done. Amish or English, everyone needs food and a roof over their head to live.”
“That’s true. I’ve learned that the hard way over the past few days.” Bracing herself, she lowered the ax into the center of a fat log. A good strike.
“But you’re also learning a skill,” he teased. “Now you can split wood.”
“Like I said, I have mad lumberjack skills. At least I’m learning something positive out of my bad choices.” She drove the ax deeper into the wood.
“How did you wind up out here, anyway? Why did you come here, to Lancaster County?”
“At the time, the destination wasn’t important. I just wanted to run, fast and far from home. Gary called it a road trip. He said we had a place to stay at his sister’s house. We were going to ride through the countryside with no deadlines or commitments. That sounds like fun, right?”
“Mmm. I’ve never left Lancaster County, but some Amish folk travel once in a while. My mamm went to Florida with her family when she was a girl. She got to swim in the ocean.” James and his siblings had always enjoyed her stories of the miles of blue water that met the sky on the horizon. Holding hands with her sisters and brothers, she had hopped over the incoming waves—like jumping rope. The salty spray. The way her feet sank into the sand as the tide pulled the floor out from beneath her.
“The ocean is great,” Shandell said, pulling her hair to one shoulder, “but I’ve never been a beach bunny. I’m so pale. An hour in the sun, and I’m burnt to a crisp.”
“You need a hat.” James pinched the brim of his black hat as he turned it in his hands. “A hat and sunscreen.”
“I’m just not a hat girl. Hats always squash my hair.”
A Simple Hope Page 13
