Mending Fences

by Suzanne Woods Fisher

  Luke looked bleary-eyed again. “They’re wrong. They have a diabolical intelligence.”

  “It says that they’re curious, they’re always hungry, and they’re not afraid of human scent.”

  “Don’t I know it? That raccoon walked all over my pillow. I think it took a nap on it.” He squinted. “Where did it find peanuts and peanut butter, anyway?”

  “Not from me. But . . .”

  “But what?”

  “Hank Lapp was in the barn yesterday afternoon. He came to the kitchen, pleased with himself. Then again, he always does seem pleased.”

  Luke clunked his forehead on the table.

  She was glad he couldn’t see how big her smile was. “It also says raccoons have excellent memories. If they get in and out of a trap, they’ll remember how they did it. So you have to change your tactics.”

  Luke lifted his head and slapped his palms on the tabletop. “I’m ready to change my tactics. I want to kill it.”

  “No. You can’t, Luke. We have to catch it live and release it somewhere else.”

  “So it can terrorize someone else?”

  “I couldn’t live with myself if I killed a wild animal.” Kill something? Stop a life? Never. No way. She sat down across from him. “This article has a plan to trap a raccoon without killing it or causing it to suffer. Read it. I underlined that section.”

  Luke yawned, then picked up the article to read it aloud. “‘Find a barrel or round trash can. The taller, the better. It also needs to have smooth sides so the perpetrator cannot get a grip once caught inside.’” He put down the article. “I like that term, ‘perpetrator.’ Sounds like a convicted criminal.”

  “Keep reading.”

  “‘Place the barrel near the edge of any flat surface taller than the top of the barrel. Pour water into the barrel.’” He looked up, surprised. “Drown it! What a great idea.”

  “Wrong. Keep reading.”

  “‘The barrel needs to be approximately one-third full, depending on the size of the raccoon. If your raccoon is smaller, use less water, as you don’t want the critter to drown if you forget to check the trap in the morning.’” He set the magazine down again. “Yes, I do want to drown the critter. And what happened to calling it a perpetrator? Critter sounds too cute.”

  Izzy sighed and grabbed the magazine to finish the article. “‘Place a board half on the table or solid surface, and halfway hanging over the barrel. Make sure the end of the board is exactly centered in the middle of the barrel. You want to try and balance the board so that it will tip into the can when the raccoon walks across it.’”

  “I love this,” Luke said.

  “‘Bait the trap. Place a tasty raccoon treat such as fish or peanut butter—’”

  “We know it loves peanut butter.”

  “‘—at the end of the board hanging over the barrel. The idea here is that the unsuspecting critter will ‘walk the plank’ trying to get the food. It will then unbalance the board and go crashing down into the water.’”

  “And then it drowns. I’m in!”

  Izzy ignored him. “‘The water is a key component because, without it, the little sneak would jump and crawl right out of the barrel. When it splashes into the water, its fur becomes wet and heavy, and its claws lose traction. Those two things combined mean that it will stay stuck in the barrel until you check it.’”

  Luke clapped his hands together. “I’ll make the trap right after breakfast.”

  “I’ll help,” Izzy said, without thinking first. That was a mistake.

  Luke looked delighted at that news. Too happy.

  She frowned at him.

  After breakfast, Luke went straight back to the barn to find an empty barrel and fill it with water.

  “Only one-third full,” Izzy said. “I’m not letting you drown this raccoon.”

  He swiveled around to see her. “Why are you suddenly interested in helping me get rid of this raccoon?”

  “Just because.”

  “Hold on. You’ve changed your tune. Something’s happened. What?”

  “That wily raccoon got into my henhouse. Stole all the eggs. Every single one.”

  He was sorry to hear that, but not too sorry. At least someone finally understood how frustrating this raccoon had been.

  “Something has to be done, Luke.”

  She gave him a look as if he’d been taking the whole thing as a joke. Him! The one who kept getting woken up by a horse.

  “I forgot to add one more thing that was in the article. It said that if a mother raccoon is protecting her babies, she will fight with a ferocity.”

  Oh great. It hadn’t occurred to Luke that it might be a she, and there might be more of them up in the barn rafters.

  It worked. To Luke’s amazement, the barrel trapped the raccoon. He had used two haystacks for the solid surface, with a board leading down halfway over the water filled barrel. At the end of the board, he rolled a raw piece of bacon around a blob of peanut butter. It was Izzy’s idea. Bacon plus peanut butter. In the middle of the night, Luke heard a big splash! followed by thrashing and clawing and angry spitting sounds. He jumped out of bed, grabbed the flashlight, and ran to the barrel. Lo and behold, there it was. The perpetrator.

  Luke tipped the barrel over so that the raccoon wiggled his way down into the foolproof, way-too-expensive wire trap he’d bought from the Hay & Grain. Using leather gloves, he latched the cage and locked it with a padlock. Then, carefully, he wove wire around the opening. The raccoon was furious with him, glaring at him, spitting and squeaking, shaking his wet fur so that it sprayed Luke. He didn’t know that raccoons squeaked. He almost felt sorry for it. Almost. Satisfied, he went back to bed.

  In the morning, Luke carried the cage with the angry raccoon out to the buggy.

  Izzy yoo-hooed to him from the house. “Did it work? Did you catch him?”

  “I got him! Tell Amos I’ll be back. I’m taking this rodent ulcer as far from Windmill Farm as I can go.”

  By the time Luke had backed Bob up between the shafts and was fastening the buckles on Bob’s harness, Izzy had come down to join him. She held out a piece of thickly cut toast, lathered with butter and jam. “Thought you might be hungry.”

  He lifted his head. “Well, thank you, Izzy.”

  “It was Fern’s idea.”

  “Put it on the driver’s seat. I’ll eat it as I head to the hills.”

  She patted Bob’s nose and walked to the buggy. “Luke.”

  Her voice sounded weird. Luke braced himself. “Yeah?”

  “Where’s the raccoon?”

  “Back seat. In the trap.”

  Izzy cringed, the way you tighten up after lightning strikes and you’re waiting for the thunder. “I see the trap. It’s empty.”

  “No! No no no no no.” Luke ran back to the buggy and grabbed the edge of the buggy with both hands. The cage door was wide open. The trap was empty.

  It was a glorious day, the sky as blue as a robin’s egg, with a gentle, light breeze. On a summer morning like today, Amos liked to drink his first cup of coffee on the porch, soaking up the beauty of the day. The earth was full of the goodness of the Lord, he would think to himself. Today, unfortunately, he couldn’t appreciate any of it. He sat at the kitchen table, bothered.

  Fern handed him a cup of coffee. “What’s eating you?”

  “Have you seen what’s going on between Luke and Izzy lately?”

  “The raccoon eviction?”

  “Fern, it’s not funny. There’s something brewing between them. I have three daughters. I know what it looks like when something is brewing.”

  “They do seem a little less combative with each other.”

  He thumped the table with his fist. “I was afraid of this happening. It’s just what I worried about when we agreed to bring Luke here.”

  Fern sat down across from him. “Let me get this straight. You’d rather that they didn’t even talk to each other. Not even be friends.”

  He
frowned at her. “There’s no such thing as a boy and girl, at their age, being friends.”

  “Are you worried about Luke? Or Izzy?”

  “Both! They’re broken, Fern. The two of them, they both had messy childhoods. How could two broken young people end up helping each other?”

  “They can’t.”

  “So you agree?” He felt a little better. He thought this would be a more difficult conversation than it was. “I’ll ask Luke to find another place to live.”

  “I agree that two broken young people can’t help each other. I don’t agree that we make Luke move away from Windmill Farm. He’s been a huge help to you, Amos. We’ve needed him this summer and we’ll need him even more come fall. It’s not fair to him to make him leave. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “What about Izzy? You’re the one who always says she’s been sent here to heal.”

  “I do believe that. And I believe the same thing for Luke.”

  Amos huffed. “Then what are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to trust God in this, Amos Lapp. We’re going to continue to pray mightily for the two of them, and rest in God’s sovereignty.”

  “Fern, I’m not doubting God. But their brokenness . . .”

  She reached out and squeezed his hands. “God brought those two to us. They’re part of our bundle of responsibility. We’re seeing them both make great strides.” She rose and went to the door, scooping up an empty laundry basket on the ground. “I’m going to bring in the laundry before the rain starts.”

  Amos looked out the window. The sun was shining. Only one small gray, wispy cloud hung in the bright blue sky. “Fern,” he said, annoyed. “You think you can see the future. You can’t. You can’t forecast the weather. You can’t foresee what might happen with Izzy and Luke.”

  “Now, did I say that I could? I never said such a thing. I said I trusted God with them.” She left the kitchen, now equally annoyed.

  Not an hour later, the sky turned a dark, bruised blue and the rain came down in thick gray curtains.

  It had started sprinkling as Luke left Windmill Farm, but now rain was coming down hard. As he neared the Bent N’ Dent, he hopped off the scooter and leaned it against the edge of the store. As he opened the door, he heard a loud, “LUKE SCHROCK. JUST THE MAN I WANTED TO SEE.”

  Oh, boy. “Morning, Hank.”

  “How goes the raccoon trapping?”

  “Ineffective.”

  “You mean my peanut butter concoction didn’t work?”

  “No, it didn’t work. What were you thinking, anyway?”

  “Raccoons love peanut butter! It’s a solid-gold fact.”

  “That, I know. But why would you try to bait him in the tack room?”

  Hank sputtered and pointed at him. “THAT’S WHERE YOU SAID IT SPENDS ITS NIGHTS.”

  “No, Hank. That’s where the horse goes. After the raccoon unlatches its stall. You got it all wrong.” He caught himself frowning at Hank, exasperated at the man’s indifference to his plight. He briefly wondered if this was the same reason people were always frowning at him so much. “I need to get some cinnamon for Fern. She’s spending the day canning pears.”

  Hank licked his lips. “TELL HER I’LL BE STOPPING BY LATER TODAY for SAMPLES.” He closed his eyes and stretched out his legs. “I’LL SIT HERE and PONDER MORE WAYS to TRAP A COON.”

  “You do that, Hank. Just let me know before you try something. It took me hours to get that peanut butter off the floor. I don’t know what you put in it, but it hardened like dried oatmeal paste.”

  Hank’s eyes opened. One eye peered at Luke. The other eye drifted off to the side. It was a disconcerting experience. “THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I PUT IN IT. That’s the BEAUTY OF THE PLAN. Like WET CEMENT. The RACCOON WAS SUPPOSED TO GET STUCK IN IT.”

  Luke shook his head as he passed Hank. How did Edith stand him? But then, how did Hank stand Edith? She was as tough a woman as they come. Hank, for all his bluster, was as soft a man as they come.

  Love. It was a mystery of dynamic proportion. What was it that made two people feel something special for each other? As he walked to the back of the store, his mind thought of the way Teddy Zook and Alice Smucker had been casting sideways glances at each other the last few days during their sessions of snake conditioning, cheeks blushing furiously. Both of them! Could something be stirring between them? Another mystery.

  For the last two weeks, Teddy Zook and Luke had brought snakes, in cages, over to Alice Smucker’s house. At first, she would only look at them through her window. Then, on the porch. And then, one rainy afternoon—probably because of the rain—she let Teddy bring a cage inside. Standing halfway across the room, she peered curiously at the snake, and listened as Teddy described it.

  “It’s kind of pretty, isn’t it?” Alice said. “Its color, I mean. Not its beady eyes.”

  Teddy explained how a snake’s eyes were designed, how you could tell if it was venomous or poisonous by how its pupils were shaped. Alice took a step closer to the cage. Just one. “So this one, then, it’s not poisonous.”

  “Exactly right, Alice.” Teddy smiled at her, and she smiled back at him, and Luke felt as if he was watching a miracle unfold.

  A few days later, Alice Smucker held that same little bright green snake in the palm of her hands. Held. It. In. Her. Hand. What a day, what a day!

  But it got better still. Luke overheard Teddy ask Alice what time she wanted him to come for Saturday supper. Blushing beet red, Alice told him to come at five o’clock, without a snake.

  On the drive home, Luke was grinning from ear to ear. So much so that it annoyed Teddy. “Wipe that smug look off your face.”

  “Can’t help it,” Luke said, still grinning. “Here I was trying to cure Alice of her phobia, and along came an additional gift. Love. Two birds, one stone.”

  “If you think you’ve cured Alice, then why won’t she leave her house?”

  Luke’s grin faded.

  seventeen

  Luke had told Big Teddy he would read through Genesis, Exodus, and Numbers, back when Teddy first quoted out of them, but then the raccoon distracted him from that intention. Today, Teddy reminded him of his promise, so he set aside time to read through the books after supper. He read them quickly at first, and then he went over them slowly, underlining certain parts. Despite loving to read, he’d never really considered the Bible to be captivating. It was, though. The more he read, the more it became a story. One long story. Over and over, he kept noticing a theme: God seeking, man responding. God calling man out of his situation and into a new one. A better one. God imploring man to believe and obey. It was a phrase David used often in his sermons. Believe and obey. He also noticed a theme of “all in.” God wanted his people to be “all in.” It was another subject matter David stayed camped on. “Heart, soul, and mind,” he called it.

  Luke yawned, stretched. He wanted to grab a quick shower before he turned in for the night. In the house’s bathroom, standing half in, half out of the tub, he waited for the water to warm up. A shock went through him, as real as a bolt of lightning. One foot in, one foot out. It’s what his life had been all about. Even at his lowest point, he’d never turned his back on God, not entirely. Now it seemed as if God was sending him a message through those Bible passages. “It’s time, Luke. Time to decide. You can’t have it both ways. I want you all in.”

  Luke stilled. If he chose God, if he gave himself to God all the way, it would mean the end of “one foot in, one foot out.” He would never go back. This moment, right now, it would become his point of no return.

  Return to what? What kind of a life was it? Living on the fence meant he didn’t enjoy either side.

  He took a deep breath and said aloud, “I’m in, Lord. All the way.” Then he got into the tub and pulled the curtain and had the best shower of his life.

  Late Friday afternoon, while milking the cows, Luke couldn’t stop thinking about Alice Smucker. Her refusal to leave her house weighed he
avily on his mind. Then he had a strange sense of a message pressing down on him: Go. Go now. Tell Alice what you’ve just learned.

  The hair on the back of Luke’s neck stood up. The voice wasn’t audible, not at all, but it sure seemed loud and clear. He leaned back on the milking stool and gazed around the barn. “Hold on a minute. Is this what it means to be ‘all in’?” he said out loud. “You’re not serious. You can’t be serious.” Sage turned her head toward him, batting her thick eyelashes.

  Again came the message: Go and tell Alice what you’ve learned.

  “But I can’t! She’ll think I’m crazy. It’ll set everything back. All her progress.”

  Bob poked his big head over the stall door to see who Luke was talking to. Who, indeed.

  Again came the message. Go. Go now.

  Heart pounding, hands trembling, he finished milking Lemon Thyme, fed Bob, and scootered over to Alice’s house.

  She looked surprised to find him knocking on her door, but not suspicious like she usually did. And she even invited him inside without him having to ask. As she poured a glass of lemonade for him in her little kitchen, he noticed that the gray top of the kitchen table had those squiggly black lines all over it. Kind of like a jigsaw puzzle. Going-nowhere kind of lines. This tabletop . . . it sort of symbolized Alice’s life.

  He thought of how much progress she’d made these last few weeks in facing her fears. Or maybe he was the one who’d made progress. He’d worked hard to show her that he was a changed man. Maybe both of them had changed.

  She handed him a glass and sat across from him at the little table. “Something on your mind?”

  “Yes. Yes, there is.” He took a sip of lemonade, swallowed, then set the glass down. “Alice, I’ve been reading the Bible a lot lately. To be honest, spending so much time with Teddy has made me more interested in it.”

  Two streaks of pink went up her cheeks as soon as he mentioned Teddy’s name. “He does seem to be quite knowledgeable about a great deal of subjects,” she said, carefully avoiding his eyes.