The Bishop's Daughter

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

Naomi halted the buggy in front of the hitching post near the barn, climbed down, and bent to pet the dog. “Hey, Cinnamon, how are you doin’ this afternoon?”

  Cinnamon responded with two quick barks and lots of tail wagging.

  “That good, huh?” Naomi reached into the buggy and withdrew a wicker basket that contained the shoofly pie she’d baked last night. The dog sniffed the cloth draped over the top of the pie and released a pathetic whine.

  Naomi shook her finger. “I baked the treat for Teacher Leona, not for you, girl.” She started toward the house, and the dog slunk toward the barn with her tail drooping.

  Naomi hurried around the back side of the house. When she stepped onto the porch, it creaked beneath her feet. Guess our bishop’s got so much to do these days that he can’t keep up with things around here.

  She knocked on the edge of the screen door, and a few seconds later, Lydia made an appearance, bidding her to enter.

  “How nice of you to stop by. What have you got there in the basket?” the older woman asked with a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes.

  Naomi smiled. Lydia had always been one to get right to the point, but that’s just who she was. Everyone knew it. “I brought over a shoofly pie for Leona. It’s a gift from my two oldest boys, who of course had nothing to do with the baking of it.”

  Lydia laughed and motioned to the kitchen counter. “You can put it over there. If you’re not in a hurry, maybe you’d like a glass of iced tea or some lemonade.”

  Naomi set the basket down, lifted the pie, and placed it on the counter. “I was hoping for the chance to visit with Leona, and I’d very much appreciate a glass of cold tea. It’s way too warm for the end of May.”

  “Leona’s upstairs resting right now, and I hate to disturb her. So if you don’t mind my company, maybe the two of us can visit awhile.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Naomi took a seat, while Lydia scurried over to the refrigerator. A few minutes later, they both held tall glasses of iced tea in their hands.

  “How’s Leona doing?” Naomi asked. “Is there any chance of her going back to teach before the school year is out?”

  Lydia shrugged. “Her new glasses aren’t ready yet, and without those, she can’t see well enough to read, which means she can’t return to teaching ’til they come in. The bridge of her nose is still real sore, so even if she did have her glasses, I doubt she could wear ’em for long.”

  Naomi swallowed the cool liquid in her mouth, savoring the delicate flavor of Lydia’s homemade mint tea. “Sure was a shame about the ball hitting her in the face and breaking her naas. Josh said Emanuel blamed himself for the whole thing, but it sounded like it wasn’t really the boy’s fault.”

  “Leona says she was in the wrong for not paying closer attention.”

  Naomi shook her head. “Seems like most folks have a way of blaming themselves when things don’t go right. I guess it helps make some sense out of the tragedies in life if we’ve got someone to blame.” She sucked in her bottom lip. “It’s been twenty years since my little bruder was taken from us, and sometimes I still find myself going over the details of that day and putting the blame on my shoulders again. Then I’m reminded of how God forgives our sins and doesn’t want us to beat ourselves over the head because of our mistakes. It’s the lessons we learn that matter most, and you can be sure I learned a powerful lesson the day Zach was kidnapped.”

  Lydia reached across the table and touched Naomi’s arm. The tender look on the woman’s face made Naomi realize how much she sympathized with her pain.

  “Last week was Zach’s twenty-first birthday, and I had to wonder if Papa wasn’t hurting that day as much as I was. Of course, he never said anything about it to me.”

  “I don’t believe any parent ever gets over the loss of a child,” Lydia said in a near whisper. “Whether it’s from a kidnapping or having them taken in death.”

  Naomi recalled hearing that Lydia had lost a baby boy due to crib death a few years before Leona was born. She figured there were probably times when Lydia still mourned her loss, which was only natural. She knew, too, that a few months ago Leona had lost the man she’d planned to marry, and no doubt she still grieved that loss.

  “I’m thankful Papa had a friend like Jacob to help him through the rough days after Zach was taken,” she commented. “Your husband’s a good man, and we’re fortunate to have him as our bishop.”

  “Jacob would say, ‘That’s what friends are for,’ and I’m sure Abraham would do the same for my husband if he had such a need.” Lydia smiled. “What God doeth is well done.”

  Naomi nodded. “Absolutely.”

  As Jim began painting the back of the store he and his crew had been working on, he gripped the paintbrush so hard his fingers ached. It was difficult to keep his mind on the job when he knew Jimmy was upset with him.

  Last night, after Jimmy left the house, Jim had stayed up late, waiting, hoping for his son’s return. He needed the chance to explain things better and make his son realize why he hadn’t told him about the adoption before. But Jimmy hadn’t returned home all night, or this morning, either.

  He gritted his teeth. How can we clear things up if Jimmy doesn’t come home so we can talk about all this?

  This morning, Beth Walters had phoned, saying Jimmy had slept at their place last night but that he’d left soon after breakfast. She’d also mentioned that Jimmy seemed upset about something and asked if Jim knew what it could be. Jim assured Beth that it was nothing to worry about. The last thing he needed was for that religious fanatic to stick her nose in where it didn’t belong, the way she had done countless times when Linda was alive.

  Jim released a noisy yawn. He’d spent most of last night pacing the floor, sulking over the mistakes he’d made during the last twenty years, and drinking one beer after the other until he’d finally fallen asleep in a stupor. When he’d awakened on the couch this morning, he had such a pounding headache he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it to work or not. But after two cups of coffee, a couple of aspirin, and a warm shower, he’d managed to pull himself together.

  I wish Linda wouldn’t have written Jimmy that letter. It should have been me telling him that he was adopted, not her, he told himself. Maybe she didn’t trust me to keep my promise.

  Jim dipped the paintbrush into the bucket sitting near his feet and tried to concentrate on the job at hand. It was no use. All he could think about was the look of confusion on Jimmy’s face when he’d read his mother’s letter. The kid must hate me now, and I guess I can’t blame him. If Jimmy would just come home so I can explain things better, everything would be all right.

  “What’s wrong, boss? You look upset, and you’re dripping on the sidewalk—not to mention all over those new work boots you’re wearin’.”

  Jim glanced down. Ed was right. A puddle of white paint had collected on the sidewalk, and a long streak dripped across the toe of one boot. “I—I didn’t sleep well last night,” he mumbled. “I’ve got a splitting headache, and I’m having trouble staying focused this morning.”

  “You can say that again.” Ed shook his head. “A couple of the guys said they’d tried to ask you some questions earlier, and you never did answer any of them.”

  “I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Jim frowned. “Besides, you’re the foreman. Why didn’t they ask you?”

  “They did ask. After they got no response from you. Is there a problem?”

  Jim dipped his brush into the paint again but made no comment. He shouldn’t have to answer to anyone. He owned this business, could do whatever he wanted, and had the right to speak or not to speak whenever he felt like it. If Ed couldn’t handle things, then he could—

  “Where’s Jimmy this morning?” Ed asked suddenly.

  Jim shrugged. “Beats me.”

  “I hope he shows up soon. We need every available painter if we’re gonna get this store done before the weekend.”

  “I doubt we’ll see Jimmy today,” Jim muttered,
refusing to make eye contact with his foreman.

  “How come? Is the kid sick or something?”

  Jim fought the urge to rail at his faithful employee, but he knew none of this mess with Jimmy was Ed’s fault. “He’s not sick, and we’ll manage fine without him today.”

  Ed squinted, gave his mustache a quick pull, and sauntered away without another word. Jim had a sinking feeling that this was going to be a long, grueling day.

  “It’s so good to finally have my new glasses,” Leona said to her mother as the two of them sat next to each other in the backseat of Vera Griffin’s station wagon. Vera, their English driver, had taken them to the optical shop in Lancaster in the morning, and after they’d picked up Leona’s glasses, they had stopped at a fast-food restaurant for a quick lunch. Then they’d done a bit of shopping until Mom insisted it was time to go home because Leona looked tired. Leona had argued, saying she felt fine, but truthfully, she was happy to be heading for home. Today was the first day she’d been away from the house since her accident, and her nose was beginning to throb.

  “How do the new glasses feel?” Mom asked. “Are they too heavy for the bridge of your naas?”

  “They felt okay when the optician adjusted the earpieces and put them on my face, but they’ve been hurting a little ever since.” Leona shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t get them fitted just right.”

  “And maybe your naas is still too tender to wear the glasses for long,” Mom said with a shake of her head. “It may take another week or so ’til you can wear them all day. You’ll need to be patient.”

  Leona was tired of being patient and tired of staying home when she should be at school. She removed her glasses and gingerly rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I have no more time for patience.”

  Her mamm’s pale eyebrows drew together, and her lips formed a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Friday’s the last day of school, and I need to be there.”

  “Why would you need to be there for the last day of school?”

  “Because we always have a picnic that day, and I want to spend some time with my pupils and say good-bye for the summer.”

  “I see.”

  Leona thought about Emanuel Lapp and how his brother had brought him by the house to see her last Sunday afternoon. He’d said several times how sorry he was for hitting her in the face with the ball.

  Leona smiled as she pictured the sincere expression on Emanuel’s youthful face when he and his older brother presented her with a birdhouse that Abner said he had made. Abner seemed pleased when Leona thanked them and said she would enjoy watching to see if any birds made a nest in it.

  “I really think you should stay home and take it easy for the rest of the week,” Mom said, breaking into Leona’s thoughts. “You look awful tired right now, and I doubt you’d be able to make it through the whole day at school.”

  Leona felt her defenses begin to rise. “Mary Ann will be there to help. Besides, we’ll be having a picnic, and school will get out early, so there won’t be much work for me to do.” She clenched and unclenched her fingers. Why is Mom so overprotective? Sometimes she treats me as if I’m still a little girl. We would get along much better if she saw me as a grown woman, the way Papa does.

  Leona could tell by the determined set of her mamm’s jaw that she was tempted to argue further, but they had just pulled into their yard and her daed was waiting for them on the front porch, so the discussion ended.

  Cinnamon was there, too, lying on the porch beside her daed’s favorite wicker chair. While Mom paid Vera for their ride, Leona hurried over to greet Papa and Cinnamon.

  “How’d your appointment go at the optical shop?” Papa asked as soon as she stepped onto the porch.

  “I got my new glasses.” Leona bent over to pat Cinnamon’s head, and the dog responded with a muffled grunt.

  “Are they aagenehm?”

  “I’m sure the glasses will be comfortable enough once the soreness leaves my nose.” Before her daed could respond, she added, “I’m going back to school on Friday; I want to be there for the last day.”

  His forehead wrinkled slightly. “You think you’re ready for that?”

  “Jah.”

  He nodded slowly. “I’ll drive you then.”

  “Danki, Papa.” Leona was glad he hadn’t tried to talk her out of going and that he’d agreed to take her to school. At least Papa doesn’t try to smother me as Mom often does. If I had half as much wisdom dealing with people as my daed does, I’d be the best schoolteacher in all of Lancaster County.

  As Jimmy steered his small truck toward Point Defiance Park, all he could think about was the letter he’d read from Mom yesterday evening. It had been a shock to discover he was adopted. He found the news all that much harder to accept after learning that his dad was supposed to have told him about his adoption long ago but didn’t. After Jimmy had left the house, he’d gone over to Allen’s to spend the night but, unable to talk about his adoption, he had merely said that he’d had a disagreement with his dad and needed some time away.

  Beth and Eric Walters were good people, and they’d raised three of the nicest boys Jimmy had ever known. He knew they wouldn’t think any less of him if he told them he’d been adopted, but he needed more time to think about all this before he discussed it with anyone.

  His hazy mind swept over the events of last night one more time, and he gritted his teeth in an attempt to control his swirling emotions. Maybe some time at the beach would make him feel better. Ever since he’d gotten his driver’s license, he had often gone to Owen Beach or someplace along the waterfront to think and pray, and he’d always felt closer to God whenever he was near the water.

  A short time later, Jimmy drove into the park and headed through the stretch of road known as Five Mile Drive. He let his pickup coast down the hill leading to the beach. When he found a parking place not far from the water, he parked, turned off the engine, and stepped out of the truck.

  As the salty, fresh air teased Jimmy’s senses, he drew in a deep, cleansing breath. For one brief moment, he felt as if things could be right in his world again. But then he thought about Mom’s letter, and his confusion resurfaced.

  He hopped across a couple of logs and jogged up the rocky beach, hoping to work off his frustrations. The brackish air blew against his face and felt invigorating, yet it was almost painful. “I wish I could splash paint thinner over the last twenty-one years of my life,” he hollered into the wind. “If only Mom and Dad had told me I was adopted from the very beginning.”

  On and on, Jimmy ran, trying to block out the pain and focus his thoughts on something other than his adoption. Finally, in a state of emotional and physical exhaustion, Jimmy halted below the pier. Eager fishermen leaned against the railing with their fishing poles hung over the sides. He drew in a breath and bent over at the waist, trying to calm his racing heart.

  His stomach growled as the smell of deep-fried fish and steamed butter clams tickled his nose. He glanced at the deck outside Anthony’s Restaurant. People sat around tables eating with friends and admiring the view of Commencement Bay. Jimmy realized then that he hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. He was tempted to grab a bite at the restaurant but decided against it.

  “I doubt I could keep anything down,” he mumbled. “What I need more than food is some answers.” He turned and started back up the beach. “It’s time to go home. It’s time for a serious talk with Dad.”

  As Jim passed the health food store near the entrance of the Tacoma Mall, his thoughts turned to Linda. In conjunction with chemotherapy, radiation, and several surgeries, she had tried various kinds of vitamins, herbs, and homeopathic remedies during her bout with cancer. While nothing had cured her disease, she had found some relief from her pain, and he figured the vitamins she’d taken might have helped strengthen her immune system, which had given her a bit more time.

  He glanced at the stack of bodybuilding nutrients displayed in the store window.
Maybe I should go inside and see if they have anything to help calm my nerves. He’d thought about stopping somewhere after work for a couple of drinks, but in case Jimmy decided to come home this evening, Jim wanted to be sure he was sober and able to carry on an intelligent conversation.

  “Yeah, right. Like anything I’ve ever done was intelligent,” he mumbled.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  Jim studied the woman who had been stocking shelves near the front door. Her skin was smooth, with barely a wrinkle, and her short blond hair was shiny and thick. If she was as healthy as she looked and it was due to the products sold here, then he figured he had come to the right place. “I—uh—do you have anything that might help a person relax?” he asked.

  “I sell several herbal preparations that seem to work pretty well.” She smiled, and her pale blue eyes appeared to scrutinize him. “Say, you look familiar. Aren’t you Jimmy Scott’s dad?”

  Jim nodded. “How do you know my son?”

  “We go to the same church, and I believe I’ve seen you there for some of the programs Jimmy’s been in.” She extended her hand. “I’m Holly Simmons, the owner of this store.”

  Another religious fanatic, no doubt. He forced a smile and shook her hand. “My name’s Jim.”

  Holly motioned to the back of the store. “The herbal and homeopathic remedies are right this way.”

  “Did Leona go inside?” Lydia asked her husband when she stepped onto the front porch.

  “We visited a few minutes, and then she said she was going to get supper started.”

  “Did she show her new glasses to you?”

  “Jah, the optical shop sure took their time gettin’ them done, wouldn’t ya say?”

  Lydia shrugged. “It’s just as well if you ask me. If our daughter had gotten her glasses any sooner, she’d have insisted on going back to teach at the schoolhouse.”

  He nodded. “I think you’re right about that.”

  “Did she tell you she’s planning to go there on Friday?”