She had handed him back his application with a sneer. “Come back after you finish high school, college, and have completed graduate work in library science.”
Science for libraries? What was that? He just knew he liked to read, and he liked being around people who liked to read.
He found the title that the friendly librarian had placed a star beside and sat down to read it. Within a few pages, he knew he’d found some valuable information. He needed paper and pencil to jot down notes and went back to the main desk to ask the librarian for them.
The crotchety librarian spoke first. “No.”
The friendly librarian rolled her eyes. “Oh goodness, Betty. It’s just paper.”
“If we give paper to one patron, we have to give it to all.”
The nice librarian sighed and handed Luke a pad of paper and a pen. He read and wrote and read and wrote. He hadn’t even realized it was quitting time until the lights started going off. He scrambled, gathered his papers, and went to the main desk to check out the book.
Librarian Betty stood by the door with her large arms crossed against her generous chest. She had a beaklike nose and black button eyes that scowled at him as if she suspected him of trying to steal books.
He handed her the book. “I’d like to check it out. There’s more information in it that I need.”
“Where’s your library card?”
“I don’t have one.”
“We close early on Saturdays. I’m not staying late to get you a library card.” She lifted one eyebrow. “No doubt you don’t even have proper identification.”
“What kind of identification do I need for a library card?”
“Something with a picture.” Those thin lips of hers pulled even thinner. “Driver’s license is preferred.”
Very funny. “I could bring my police record. It has my mug shot on it.”
Her beady eyes went wide for a second, then narrowed. She thought he was tweaking her, but he actually wasn’t.
“If you don’t have a photo ID, bring some kind of proof of residence. An electric bill, for example.”
Was she being serious? The sneer he’d sensed under her words certainly seemed snarky. “I’ll come back tomorrow with something that proves residency.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I will. I’ll be back.” There must be something at Windmill Farm he could use to prove residency.
“Not tomorrow. We’re closed on Sundays. I read Amish fiction. You people are supposed to obey the Sabbath.”
You people. Those kinds of sweeping remarks irked Luke. If he were a more mature person, like Amos or David, he’d respond in silence. Alas, he wasn’t. “Say, did you hear the story about the Quaker farmer? A fellow broke into this farmer’s house to look for cash. He figured that since Quakers were pacifists, he’d get away unharmed. But the Quaker farmer caught him in the act and pointed a shotgun right at him. ‘Son,’ he said, ‘I would never do thee any harm yet thee is standing where I am just about to shoot.’” Luke chuckled. “I love that story.”
The librarian glared at him. “I suppose you think you’re funny.”
“Actually, what I think is that many folks have ignorant perceptions about others. Even if they happen to work in a library.” So maybe he shouldn’t have added that last remark.
Her eyes narrowed again. “And I think you people ought to pick up after your horse and buggies.”
Oh that. It was a longtime festering debate in Lancaster County that he had no interest in discussing. Some people liked the signs of rural life that were part of the horse and buggy world. Others thought it was a public nuisance. He could see what side this librarian fell on the debate.
The friendly librarian walked over to them, took the book out of Luke’s hands, went back to the main desk, took out her own card, swiped it against a machine that beeped, and handed the book back to Luke. “It’s due back in three weeks.”
“Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t do that,” Betty said. “If you do it for one—”
“I know, Betty. I have to do it for all.” She smiled at Luke. “Please remember to bring it back within three weeks.”
“I promise. You can take that to the bank.” He tipped his hat at scowling Betty as he sailed through the door.
A tour bus had come by the makeshift farm stand this afternoon and bought Izzy out of the day’s peaches in less than five minutes. Five minutes! She thought she might see if Luke could pick more peaches for Monday. Amos wouldn’t let a single peach get picked before it was fully tree ripened, but she hoped that Sunday’s Sabbath pause would mean double Monday’s harvest. She could be selling twice the amount, if she could only get more produce to sell. She thought about asking Amos to consider buying additional fruit from a neighboring farm, maybe strawberries and blackberries and raspberries, but she suspected he would tell her that enough was enough. They didn’t need more.
But they did! There was always a need for more.
And where was that new farm stand, anyway? All talk, that Luke Schrock. No action.
She swooshed the last little lamb into the pen behind its mother and closed the gate. She turned around to see Luke walking toward the garden with a bucket in one hand. He waited for her at the path intersection. “Izzy, are you afraid of snakes?”
“No.”
“Would you help me catch some? Preferably harmless.”
“Why do you need snakes?”
“I’m trying to help a woman overcome her fear of snakes.”
“That sounds like stirring up bees. No good can come from it.”
“Some good might. I’m trying to help her. She needs help.”
She caught eyes with Luke and could see something strange in his face. To her surprise, he seemed genuinely concerned about this woman. “Who is she?”
“Alice Smucker.”
“I don’t know her.”
“That’s because she won’t leave her house. Not since I scared her with a snake in her buggy.”
“What’d you do a fool thing like that for?”
“I don’t know.” He let out a deep sigh. “Haven’t you ever done something stupid in your life?” He rolled his eyes. “Probably not. Anyway. I did plenty of stupid things. This happened more than two years ago, and Alice hasn’t left her house since. I need to make this right.” He strode past her.
“There’s a bunch of garter snakes that live under a big rock in the garden,” Izzy called after him. “But you can only take one. Fern says they keep the gophers away from the tomatoes.”
Luke pivoted. “Mind showing me where the rock is?”
She walked up to him. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Seems like it might scare this lady all the more.”
“I haven’t had time to finish the chapter in a book, but it talked about conditioning a patient to fears. Exposing the snake to her, little by little. I thought I’d get started.”
Izzy squinted up at him. She was tall, but he was taller. “Don’t you think you should finish the book?”
“I thought I should, you know, strike while the iron is hot.”
Izzy wondered at that logic. But she could tell he was sincere, and so she helped him find the rock with the snakes underneath. He lifted the rock, she picked one up and put it in a sack.
“Most girls are afraid of snakes,” he said.
“I was. But not after I realized they’re more afraid of me than I am of them.”
“Kind of a metaphor, I’d say.”
“How so?”
He didn’t elaborate. “Izzy, aren’t you afraid of anything?”
That question, she chose not to answer. “So where is the new farm stand? That card table is way too small.”
Luke tapped his head. “It’s in the works.”
Right. All talk. No action.
A storm blew through Stoney Ridge on Sunday morning, clearing the air with a cooling breeze. After Luke returned home from church, he drove the buggy over to Alice Smucker’s and
knocked on her door. “Alice, it’s me, Luke. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Go away.”
He sighed. “Alice, I’ve been reading up about snake phobias. That’s what you have. A snake phobia. I’m the one who gave it to you, and I feel I should be the one to help you overcome it too. Would you be willing to try?”
“No.”
“Alice, there’s a better way to live. I think I can help.”
Silence.
He dropped his shoulders and started to walk away. Then he heard the door open, just a crack, and he slowly turned around to face the eye that was peering out at him. “How?”
He walked back to the door. “I’ve been reading about a man who first helped people with phobias. His method guarantees success. He’s considered to be a genius.”
The door opened just a tiny bit more. “How? How does he do it?”
“First, he helps people become educated about their fear. That takes away a lot of the power of the phobia. Little by little, he helps them face their fear, until they’re no longer afraid.”
The door opened a little bit wider. She was interested! That told Luke a great deal.
“Alice, if you’d like to try to face your phobia, I have some snakes in a sack in my buggy.”
The door slammed shut.
Luke left Alice alone for a few days, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He had to try again. The book he’d been reading had much to say about the success of conditioning patients. He knew he could help Alice, but he also knew he needed a good reason to stop by her house. A rock-solid one so that she’d actually open up the door to him.
The opportunity came the following day, after he’d dropped Amos and Fern off at Dok’s office for an appointment. He stopped in the Bent N’ Dent just as Jesse received a call from Alice Smucker for some groceries to be delivered. It seemed fortuitous! Like a sign from above. “I’ll deliver them.”
Jesse looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”
“I’m trying to do you a favor.”
Jesse hemmed and hawed, and finally relented. “I’m only saying yes because I’m the only one in the store this afternoon and Alice wants her stuff pronto.” He pointed to Luke. “No funny business.”
A truly humble person is not easily offended. It was a saying Fern oft quoted, aimed like an arrow at Luke. He was proud of his efforts to be humble. “I’ll be back in an hour or so and let you know how it went. I have to pick up Amos and Fern at Dok’s by three.”
Luke picked up the boxes of groceries, one in each arm, and hurried out the door before Jesse changed his mind. Man, when did he turn into such a straight-and-narrow guy?
At Alice’s door, he knocked and knocked and knocked. “Alice! I’ve brought your groceries from the Bent N’ Dent.” He knocked again. He knew she was in there.
“Leave them on the stoop. I’ll get them later.”
He went back to the buggy and picked up one box of groceries. He turned, then stopped when he saw the sack with the snake wiggle. He’d brought it along with him, only one little harmless garter snake, just in case. He thought he might see if Alice would at least look into the sack. Step one in the conditioning process. He grabbed it and put it on top of the groceries, set the box down on the stoop, and went back for the second box. He heard the front door shut and whirled around. Oh no, oh no . . . Don’t tell me! She’d taken the box inside.
He bolted to the house, but before he could reach the door, he heard Alice let out a bloodcurdling, ear-piercing scream. When he opened the door, she was up on a chair, screeching to high heavens. Luke bent down to snatch up the sack with the snake, only to discover the sack was empty.
Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.
eleven
By the time Luke had captured the garter snake, apologized profusely to Alice, and stopped at the Bent N’ Dent to explain the situation to Jesse, word had traveled ahead of him.
As Luke walked into the store, Hank Lapp spotted him and shouted, “THERE HE IS! STONEY RIDGE’S JUVENILE DELINQUENT IS BACK IN BUSINESS.” He roared with laughter. “THE SNAKE BUSINESS.”
Luke wasn’t sure how Alice was able to get a message out to people when she wouldn’t leave her house, but somehow, she did it. And if Hank Lapp knew, then the entire town would know by nightfall.
Jesse glared at him and pointed a thumb toward the back room. “Dad wants to see you.”
Luke’s heart sank. He was hoping David hadn’t yet returned to the store.
In the back room of the store, David sat at his desk. He glanced up at Luke, put down his pencil, and pointed to a chair. “So what happened?”
Now, that was another thing Luke appreciated about David Stoltzfus. He actually asked him what happened first, instead of assuming he knew all, like Hank Lapp.
“I was trying to help Alice get over her fear of snakes. I went to the library and read up on it. Did you know there’s an actual name for it? Ophidiophobia. Fear of snakes. I found a garter snake, a harmless, tiny garter, and I was just going to show it to Alice. But that’s when things went terribly wrong.” He explained the sequence of events.
David listened carefully. “Luke, Alice is a woman full of fears. Not just snakes, but all kinds of phobias. They hobble her life. You’re not qualified to cure her. Amos and I, we just wanted you to realize how you’d added to her fearfulness.”
“Oh, trust me. I get it.” Luke took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “I wanted to help her, David. I still do. No one should live like that. Her house . . . it smelled like stale air. Like she hadn’t opened the windows in years.”
David leaned back in his chair. “You did what we asked you to do. Now, I’d suggest you move on to the next person on your fence-mending list.”
Luke should’ve felt relieved, but instead he was disappointed. “But I do want to help Alice.”
“I appreciate your intent, Luke, and I believe your sincerity. Birdy has a saying she’s fond of: ‘There’s a vast difference between putting your nose in other people’s business and putting your heart in other people’s problems.’ Your heart is in the right place.” He put a palm on his desk. “But I still want you to move on down the list.”
“Tell me something. How did Hank Lapp hear about this?”
“Edith Lapp. She dropped by Alice’s while you were hunting for the snake. She came right to the store to tell me what had happened. Hank was already sitting by the stove.”
“I suppose the whole town has heard it by now.”
“Probably.”
“Fern has a saying too. ‘When once a dog has killed a sheep, it will be blamed for the death of every sheep.’”
David smiled. “Maybe so. But it does seem to me that you have an opportunity here.”
“How so?”
David leaned forward on his desk and fixed those sharp brown eyes on him like he was pinning him to his chair. “Prove them wrong, Luke. Prove them wrong.”
Izzy walked through the garden rows, inspecting the tiny shoots of onions she’d planted last week. She picked a few forgotten raspberries and popped them in her mouth as she walked around the beds. Pole beans wound their way up, twirling around the cornstalks. She bent down to see how the pumpkins were setting. Three Sisters, Fern had called this trio. Cornstalks provided support for beans, beans provided nutrients to the dirt, and pumpkins provided shade for the plants’ roots. Fern said Three Sisters was a practice passed to the first Amish settlers from local Native Americans, and if it worked for them, there was no reason to change anything.
Why indeed? Izzy had to swallow back a smile when Fern told her that. Didn’t that sound just like the Amish?
She picked more zucchini—so many zucchini, when would it end?—and carried them to the house in her apron. She noticed the library book that Luke had left on the kitchen table and spent some time skimming through it. When she saw Luke drive the buggy up the lane, she went outside to take it to him. “You left it inside.” The weight of the universe looked to be
resting on his shoulders. “I heard about the snake in the groceries.”
“You too? Good grief. Gossip runs faster in this town than downhill water.”
“Sounds like it didn’t go well with Alice.”
“It was a disaster.”
She barely swallowed back a smile when she heard Luke’s version of what had gone wrong, especially when he did a perfect imitation of Hank Lapp’s overly loud voice in the Bent N’ Dent. She tried not to laugh, covered her mouth tightly with her hand, but the thought of poor Alice Smucker screaming like a banshee, of Edith Lapp rushing inside to rescue her, and then the story spreading like wildfire through Stoney Ridge—she couldn’t help herself. Soon, she was doubled over, laughing.
Luke watched her with a curious look on his face. “Do you mean to tell me that all I’ve needed to get you to talk to me is to show myself as a buffoon?”
That got her giggles starting all over again. “Oh, no. You’ve already done that plenty of times.”
“Then what’s so funny about this time?”
She dabbed tears from the corners of her eyes and took a deep breath. “I suppose . . .” She took another deep breath to stop herself from another laughing bout. “I suppose it’s because you were trying so hard to do the right thing. And it was so the wrong thing to do. You’d better finish reading the book. To the end, this time.” She tossed him the book and hurried up the porch steps before she started laughing again.
As Luke read through the book, he realized his mistake with how he handled Alice and her fear of snakes. He had introduced the object of fear much too soon. He would have to start the process of conditioning her to snakes all over again, assuming she would even open the door to him. In the book, the treatment involved conditioning the patient slowly and cautiously. That made a lot of sense to Luke. It was how Galen conditioned his horses to traffic. Slow and steady.
Mending Fences Page 10
