The Bishop's Daughter

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

Mary Ann reached over and patted Leona’s hand. “It’s bound to bring back memories of Ezra’s funeral, but you’ll get through it, Leona.”

  “Let’s talk about something else, okay?”

  “Jah, sure. So, how’s the painting on the schoolhouse comin’ along?”

  “Good. The outside’s done, and Jimmy and Eli will be starting on the inside tomorrow or the next day.”

  Mary Ann filled the glasses with lemonade and handed one to Leona. “Isn’t Jimmy that English fellow your daed hired?”

  Leona nodded and took a sip of her cool, tangy drink.

  “I wasn’t working at the quilt shop the day he came into the general store, but Naomi told me later that he reminded her of someone.”

  “Really? Who?”

  “She didn’t say. Just thought he looked kind of familiar.”

  “I don’t see how he could be anyone she knows,” Leona said. “He’s from the state of Washington.”

  “I’ve heard it said that everyone has a double somewhere.” Mary Ann glanced at the door leading to the living room. “Sure hope your daed can get Mama Fannie calmed down.”

  “If anyone can, it will be him.” Leona knew it was wrong to be full of hochmut, yet she couldn’t help but feel a little pride in her daed’s abilities to minister in such a gentle, caring way.

  “I need to run over to Naomi’s place,” Abraham told his twin boys after they had quit work in the fields for the day. “Would one of you let your mamm know I’ll be a few minutes late for supper?”

  “Sure, Papa,” Titus said with a nod.

  “How come you’re goin’ over to our big sister’s?” Timothy questioned. “Won’t ya be seein’ her at the funeral in a few days?”

  “Jah, but I’m needing something from Naomi right now.” Abraham headed for the stable to get one of their buggies. He didn’t say anything to the boys, but the reason he was going over to his oldest daughter’s was to see if she had a homeopathic remedy that might help Fannie get through the funeral service. Naomi often used natural remedies, and she had told him once about a particular one that was used for calming. He figured it was best not to mention it to the boys. No point getting them all worried about their mamm.

  Half an hour later, Abraham guided his horse and buggy up to Caleb’s barn. He entered the house through the back door, and seeing no one in the kitchen, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Are ya at home, Naomi?”

  “Mama and Papa aren’t back from the store yet; I’m upstairs, and so are the two younger ones.”

  Abraham recognized Susan’s voice. “You comin’ down, or should I come up there?”

  “Come on up,” she hollered. “I’m busy changing sheets.”

  Wonder why she’d be changing sheets at this time of the day? Abraham made his way into the hall and up the flight of stairs. He found Susan in Naomi and Caleb’s room stripping sheets off the bed.

  “What’s goin’ on?” He grimaced as the sour smell of kotz greeted him.

  “Kevin and Millie both came down with the flu and have been throwing up all morning,” she replied. “So I stayed home from the store to care for them, and Sarah, Josh, and Nate went in with the folks today. Grandma Hoffmeir usually watches the younger ones, but she’s got the flu, too.”

  “Sorry to hear they’re sick. I take it the kinner must have been sleeping in this room.”

  Susan nodded and pushed a strand of ash-blond hair away from her face where it had worked its way from under her kapp.

  “How come they weren’t in their own beds?” he questioned.

  “They were, but they both missed the bucket and ended up vomiting on their sheets. While I was changing their beds, I put them in Mama and Papa’s room.” She frowned. “By the time I was done and had their beds made up again, they’d thrown up in here, too.”

  Abraham shook his head, remembering the days of raising his own kinner and thinking about how when one had come down with the flu, the others usually followed. “I dropped by to see if your mamm has a homeopathic remedy that might help Fannie get through Edna’s funeral without falling apart,” he said. “Do you know where she keeps that kind of thing?”

  Susan nodded toward the bathroom across the hall. “It could either be in the medicine chest or on the top shelf of the linen closet. I think Mama keeps some remedies there.”

  “Danki. I’ll take a look.” Abraham rushed out of the bedroom, anxious for some fresh air. The disagreeable odor of kotz had always made his stomach churn.

  The bathroom didn’t smell much better, giving proof that the children had probably gotten sick in there, as well. He searched quickly through the medicine chest but found no homeopathic remedies.

  Frustrated, Abraham hurried into the hall and opened the linen closet. He discovered a stack of towels on the bottom shelf. There were a few bottles of aspirin and a jar of petroleum jelly on the top shelf, but he didn’t see any remedies there, either. He was about to give up when he noticed a colorful piece of cloth sticking out of a box, also on the top shelf. Curious, he pulled it out, and his breath caught in his throat. Why, this was Zach’s quilt! I haven’t seen it since the night before he was kidnapped, when I tucked him into bed, but I would recognize this anywhere.

  “Papa, what are you doing?”

  Abraham whirled around and faced Naomi. He hadn’t heard her come up the stairs. “I was looking for a homeopathic remedy that might calm Fannie’s nerves.” He thrust the quilt out to her. “Is—is this Zach’s?”

  Naomi nodded as tears clouded her vision. She reached out a trembling hand and touched the edge of her brother’s quilt. “Jah, Papa, it’s his.”

  His steely blue eyes seemed to bore right through her. “How’d you get this, and how long have you had it?” he demanded.

  A sense of guilt, mixed with deep regret, pricked Naomi’s heart. “Abby gave it to me when she returned from her trip to Montana several years ago. She said Elizabeth, the woman she’d stayed with there, had found it in a thrift store somewhere in the state of Washington.”

  “But Abby came back to Pennsylvania fourteen years ago. If you’ve had Zach’s quilt that long, why have you been keeping it from me?” Papa’s hand trembled as he held the quilt against his chest.

  “I—I was afraid of getting your hopes up.”

  “Why would I get my hopes up?” He grimaced, and a shadow passed across his face. “My son’s been missing for twenty years, Naomi. Don’t ya think I had the right to know the quilt had been found?”

  “Jah. You had the right. I was wrong.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she hung her head, unable to meet his piercing gaze. At the time Naomi had decided to keep the quilt hidden from her daed, she had felt that she was doing the right thing. She’d planned to put the quilt in her baby’s room but had changed her mind and stuck it in the linen closet instead. She’d almost forgotten about it until now. “I should have shown it to you right away. It would have saved us both this awkward, painful moment,” she murmured, lifting her head.

  Her daed blinked a couple of times as though he was struggling not to cry. His protruding Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Do you suppose this means Zach is dead?”

  She gasped. “Oh no, Papa! Surely, it doesn’t mean that. Abby told me once that she thought the man who took Zach must have sold the quilt to the thrift shop—probably to get rid of any evidence that he’d taken an Amish baby.”

  “Maybe so. Maybe not.” Papa buried his face in the folds of the quilt and sniffed deeply. “All these years I’ve prayed for Zach, asking the Lord to watch over my boy and bring him safely back home.” His shoulders trembled, and his voice cracked. “I—I guess God’s answer was no. Otherwise, your little bruder would have returned to us by now.”

  Naomi didn’t know how to respond. Maybe Papa was right. God’s answer to their prayers for Zach’s safe return must have been no.

  “The time for talking about my missing son must end right now.” Papa stared hard at Naomi, and his eyes glazed over. �
�Zach’s gone for good, and it only hurts to keep bringing him up. It’s over and done with, and I’m not going to discuss him with you or anyone else ever again.” He threw the quilt on the floor, whirled around, and hurried down the stairs.

  Naomi released a sob as she bent over to retrieve the small covering. “I’m so sorry, Papa. Sorry for all the grief I’ve brought to this family.”

  Leona scurried about the kitchen helping Edna’s daughter, Gretchen, and several other women serve the funeral dinner. She noticed that Fannie, wearing a placid expression, kept busy filling platters and plates for the younger women to carry outside to the tables. During the funeral service, which had been held in the barn, and again at the graveside committal, Fannie had appeared to be in control of her emotions.

  It must be due to Papa’s visit with her the other day, Leona thought. Her daed seemed to have a calming effect on everyone—herself included. She certainly needed some calming today, after spending time with Ezra’s family and, despite her determination not to do so, reliving the day of Ezra’s funeral in her mind.

  Leona’s thoughts halted when she glanced across the room and noticed Naomi sitting at the kitchen table and staring at a bowl of salad greens as if in a daze. Surely, Naomi couldn’t be taking Edna’s death harder than Fannie was. Edna wasn’t a blood relative of Naomi’s, and as far as Leona knew, Naomi had never been that close to her stepmother’s cousin.

  Leona wiped her hands on a dish towel and moved across the room. She stopped behind Naomi’s chair and placed one hand on the woman’s trembling shoulder. “You doin’ okay?”

  Naomi’s only reply was a quick shake of her head.

  “Would you like to go outside for a while? The fresh air might do you some good.”

  “I’m not sure the air’s so fresh out there, but I guess it must be less stuffy than it is in here,” Abby interjected as she passed by the table. “I think the men have all been served their meal now, so why don’t the three of us find a place to eat our lunch where we can visit?”

  Naomi made no move to get up. “I’m really not hungry.”

  “Oh, but you’ve got to eat,” Leona insisted. “Once you walk up to that table and see all the good food that’s been provided for this meal, I’m sure you’ll find something that will appeal.”

  “Jah, okay.” Naomi released a sigh, pushed her chair aside, and followed Abby and Leona outside.

  The other women had already gathered at the tables that had been set up in the yard, so Leona filled her plate and found them an empty table under the shade of a leafy maple tree. Abby sat beside Naomi, and Leona took the bench across from them.

  “Your mamm seems to be doing well today,” Leona said to Abby.

  Abby nodded. “Abraham gave her some kind of a natural remedy he got from the health food store. Between that and whatever your daed said to her when he stopped by their place yesterday afternoon, Mom’s been able to get through the day pretty well.”

  Leona glanced at Naomi, wishing she knew what was troubling her. Should I come right out and ask?

  “Abraham said he stopped by your place the other day,” Abby said, turning to Naomi. “He mentioned that Millie and Kevin had come down with the flu.”

  “Jah.”

  “Are they still sick?” Leona asked. She hadn’t seen Naomi’s two youngest children here today.

  “They’re doing some better, but Sarah stayed home with the sick ones so that Susan, Josh, and Nate could come to the funeral with Caleb and me,” Naomi replied.

  Abby’s wrinkled forehead revealed her obvious concern. “I hope no one else in your family comes down with the flu. You’ve got enough to keep you busy this summer without having to care for sick kinner.”

  Naomi stared at her plate full of food but made no effort to take a bite, and she gave no reply to Abby’s comment.

  Something is troubling her, and I’ve got a hunch it’s more than sorrow over Edna Yoder’s passing. Leona, having experienced her own sort of pain today, could hardly stand to see the gloomy expression on Naomi’s face. She was about to express her concerns when Naomi scooted off the bench and stood. “I think I’ll take a walk down to the creek.” She hurried off before either Leona or Abby could say a word.

  Naomi trembled as she knelt on the grass near the edge of the water. Papa will hardly look at me today. I was wrong to keep the truth from him about Zach’s quilt. I should have told him as soon as Abby gave it to me. Will I ever learn? Tears stung the back of her eyes, and she gulped on a sob. If I could change the past, I surely would—starting with that horrible day I left Zach sitting on the picnic table.

  Naomi felt the pressure of someone’s hand on her shoulder, and she turned her head. Leona and Abby stood behind her, both wearing looks of concern.

  “What’s wrong, Naomi? Why’d you run off like that?” Leona questioned. “Why are you crying?”

  “I’ve wronged my daed, and now he’s upset with me,” she said with a moan.

  Abby knelt beside her, and Leona did the same. “What did you do? Or would you rather not say?” Abby asked.

  Naomi swallowed hard and fought for control. “Papa dropped by our house yesterday, and he discovered Zach’s quilt.”

  Abby’s mouth dropped open. “How did that happen? I thought you had decided not to show it to him.”

  “I put it in a box in the linen closet some time ago, never thinking Papa would have any reason to look there.”

  Leona toyed with the strings on her kapp as she stared at the ground in front of her. “Maybe I should go. This sounds like something I’m not supposed to hear.”

  Naomi shook her head. “You don’t have to go. The secret’s out now, so I suppose it doesn’t matter who knows.”

  Abby reached for Naomi’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure once your daed thinks things through he will realize why you didn’t tell him that I’d given you the baby quilt.”

  “How’d you end up with Naomi’s little brother’s quilt?” Leona asked, giving Abby a curious look.

  Abby quickly relayed how she had acquired the quilt, and then Naomi explained that the reason she hadn’t wanted Papa to know about it was because she was afraid seeing the quilt and not knowing where Zach was would have opened old wounds. “And now Papa wants everyone to stop talking about Zach. He thinks it’s time to lay the past to rest once and for all.”

  “I understand that reasoning.” Leona put her arm around Naomi and gave her a hug. “Things will work out between you and your daed. I’ll be praying that they will.” She stood and brushed a chunk of grass off her skirt. “I think I’ll head on back to the house now. I need to speak with Ezra’s folks again before my family heads for home.”

  “Danki for your concern,” Naomi said with a nod. It came as no surprise to her that the bishop’s daughter would have such compassion and understanding.

  When Jimmy finished work for the day, he decided to drive down a few of the roads he hadn’t been on yet so he could take more pictures and continue his search for an Amish farm that sold root beer.

  He stopped at a covered bridge near Highway 222 and took several shots. Then, seeing nothing else that interested him, he headed up Highway 23. He’d only gone a short distance when he spotted a sign nailed to a tree near the end of a driveway that advertised root beer. He turned in, and his pickup bounced along the narrow, graveled road until he came to a makeshift stand several feet from the house. Jimmy turned off the engine and got out of his truck. Was Dad telling me the truth? Could this be the place he told me about?

  He walked up to the stand and, seeing no one in sight, gave the bell on the wooden counter a good shake.

  A few minutes later, a freckle-faced Amish boy came out of the house and slipped behind the counter. “Are ya wantin’ a jug of root beer?” he asked with a friendly grin.

  “Do you sell it by the glass?”

  The boy nodded. “Got some paper cups right here. You want a small one or large?”

  “Uh—large, I guess
.” Jimmy paid the boy, and while he waited for his root beer to be served, his gaze roamed over the spacious farmyard where cows grazed in the pasture and chickens ran about clucking and pecking at one another. Could this have been my home? Is it possible that I was stolen from this yard?

  “Here ya go.”

  Jimmy snapped his attention back to the boy. He reached for the paper cup and took a drink. “This is real tasty root beer.”

  “My daed makes it.”

  Could your daed be my daed? Jimmy shifted his weight and took another swallow of the mellow, tasty beverage. “I—uh—need information.”

  “Are ya lost?” the boy asked with a tilt of his head. “Some folks who stop by here needin’ information are on the wrong road and don’t know how to get to where they’re goin’.”

  “No, I’m not lost.”

  “Then what do ya need to know?”

  “I was wondering if—has anyone here ever lost a baby?”

  The boy blinked a couple of times and then gave a quick nod.

  Jimmy set the paper cup on the wooden counter and wiped his sweaty palms along the sides of his jeans. “Really? How long ago?”

  “ ’Bout a year, I’d say. Lost my baby goat when its mamm wouldn’t feed it. The poor thing up and died.”

  At first Jimmy felt irritation. Then he realized the boy must have misunderstood his question. “I wasn’t talking about an animal. I was referring to a baby boy—about a year old.”

  The child’s auburn-colored eyebrows lifted so high they nearly disappeared under the brim of his tattered straw hat. “Is somebody missin’ a baby?”

  “Not now. It was about twenty years ago. A man supposedly went to a root beer stand and kidnapped an Amish baby.”

  The boy looked at Jimmy like he’d taken leave of his senses. “You sure you got the right place? Ain’t no baby been taken from here. If there was, my folks sure woulda said somethin’ about it.”

  “I guess I must have the wrong place.” Jimmy turned and started toward his truck as a feeling of frustration threatened to knock him to the ground. Was all this hunting for an Amish farm selling root beer a waste of his time? Was there any point in continuing to look?