The Bishop's Daughter

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  “Jim. His name is Jim. He’s not my dad—not even my adopted dad,” Jimmy muttered as he moved across the room and grabbed his lunch pail off the table.

  “I know your dad’s not a Christian and he can be kind of hard to deal with sometimes, but I can’t picture him walking onto an Amish farm, snatching you away, and then passing you off to your mom as the baby they’d gone to Maryland to adopt.”

  Jimmy groaned. “It was hard for me to accept at first, too, but now that I’ve had a chance to think things over and have talked with Da—Jim again, I’m beginning to understand why he drinks so much and didn’t want to go to church with me or Mom.”

  “He’s probably been eaten up with guilt all these years. I’ll bet he’s fallen under conviction, which means there’s still hope that he will—”

  “Look, Allen, I’ve got to go. I’m going to work for Arthur part of the day, and then I’ll be stopping over at the Weavers’ place to see Jacob.”

  “Oh, okay. I need to head out, too.”

  “I’ll call you soon.” Jimmy grabbed his painter’s hat off the wall peg near the back door of his rented trailer and started to leave the kitchen.

  “One more thing,” Allen said before Jimmy clicked off his cell phone.

  “What’s that?”

  “I sensed some anger in your voice when you were talking about your dad.”

  “As I said before, he’s not my dad.”

  “He might not be your flesh-and-blood father or your adopted father, but he is the man who raised you.”

  “Mom had more to do with raising me than he did.” The feelings of bitterness Jimmy felt since his last conversation with Jim mounted higher, and he swallowed against the taste of bile rising in his throat.

  “You’ve got to find a way to deal with this, Jimmy. If you don’t, it will eat you alive.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever come to grips with what that man did to me, Mom, and my real Amish family.” He clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw ached, as he jerked open the door. “Can you imagine how my sister must have felt when she returned to the yard with a jug of root beer and discovered I was gone? It gives me the chills just thinking about it.”

  “I’ll bet even after all these years they’re still missing you.”

  Jimmy said nothing as he walked across the yard and opened the door to his truck, which he kept parked near the Rabers’ barn.

  “So, are you going to look for your real family?”

  “I started looking for them—even before I fully believed Jim’s story.”

  “So what else will you do to try and find them?”

  “I’m not sure. Guess I’ll have to rely on the Lord to help me.”

  “You don’t really think God’s going to help you find your real family as long as you continue to harbor anger and hatred toward Jim, do you?”

  Jimmy halted. “I—I don’t know.”

  “I’m sure you don’t need to be reminded what the Bible says about forgiveness. The only way you’ll ever have any peace is if you forgive your dad.”

  Jimmy grimaced. He knew Allen was right, but he wasn’t sure he could forgive. “I’d better go. Talk to you later, Allen.”

  “Bye, Jimmy. I’ll be praying for you.”

  Since school would be starting in a few weeks, Leona spent most of her free time at the schoolhouse getting things ready. At least that was her excuse for being here—as she was today. The truth be told, she’d begun to look for ways to get away from her daed and his childish antics. Her faith in God, which had once been strong, was faltering in the midst of all her disappointments.

  It helped some whenever Jimmy came over and kept Papa occupied. In fact, the young English man seemed to be Papa’s best friend these days, which Leona felt sure her daed needed. However, she had a hunch Papa’s friendship with Jimmy had hurt Abraham’s feelings. Papa had not only forgotten who Abraham was, but he didn’t perk up whenever Abraham came around the way he did with Jimmy. Leona had noticed the last couple of times Papa’s old friend had dropped by, her daed acted kind of strange. She figured Papa’s friendship with Jimmy might be the reason.

  Leona glanced around the schoolhouse, wondering what she should do today. The walls had been painted, so no cleaning would need to be done on them. With the help of several parents, the desks had been cleaned and polished and a new blackboard had been put up—the kind Leona had requested.

  “Maybe I should clean and organize my desk,” she said, turning in that direction. “Anything to keep my hands and thoughts occupied.”

  Leona had only been working a few minutes when she heard a vehicle rumble into the school yard. She hurried to the front door and saw Jimmy and Papa climb out of Jimmy’s truck. I wonder what they want. I hope they’re not planning to stay long. I don’t need this interruption.

  “Hi, Mary,” Papa said with a cheery wave. “We come to give you some wood.”

  Leona glanced at Jimmy, who grinned at her and said, “I figured you’d be needing some firewood cut and stacked before school starts.”

  “Actually, my students’ parents usually take turns bringing wood over during the school year.”

  “That’s okay. This is something your dad can do, so I guess you’ll have some extra wood this school term.”

  Papa shuffled his feet a few times and looked at Jimmy as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “I ain’t Mary’s daed. I’m her bruder.”

  Jimmy shrugged, and Leona looked away. They had tried several times to explain things to Papa about his accident. Sometimes he seemed to grasp the fact that he had lost his memory, but other times he would only give them a blank stare. Even though Papa had called her “Ona” on a few occasions, he was still insistent that he was her little bruder, not her daed.

  “Where would you like us to stack the wood once we get it cut?” Jimmy asked, halting Leona’s thoughts.

  She motioned to the side of the building. “Are you sure it’s safe for him to be handling an ax? I mean, if he doesn’t remember how to use it. . .”

  “I’ll do the cutting, and he can haul the wood over to the building and stack it.”

  “I guess that would be okay.” Leona turned toward the door. “I’ll be inside if you need me for anything.”

  When she returned to her desk, she noticed that her hands were shaking, and she clasped them tightly together. If stacking wood would bring my daed back to me, I’d ask for a ton of wood and let him stack all day.

  Lydia sank into a chair on the front porch as a feeling of relief swept over her. For the first time in several days, she had some time alone. Ever since Jacob had come home from the hospital, she’d felt as if she were playing the role of babysitter rather than that of a wife who’d been married almost thirty-seven years. She released a sigh and reached for the glass of iced tea sitting on the small table beside her. I probably should be out working in the garden or doing some cleaning, but it’s awfully nice to sit here and relax awhile.

  Lydia closed her eyes and leaned her full weight against the wicker chair. It was peaceful this afternoon, with the birds chirping in the nearby trees and an occasional grunt coming from Leona’s dog, which lay on the porch a few feet away. For the first time in many days, Lydia felt God’s presence. Maybe she’d been too busy these past weeks to realize He’d been there all along, helping her cope with Jacob’s handicap. Will my husband always be this way, Lord? Is there more we can do to help his memory return?

  The clip-clop of a horse’s hooves and the rumble of buggy wheels brought Lydia’s prayer to a halt. She opened her eyes and saw Fannie Fisher climb down from her buggy.

  “Wie geht’s?” Fannie called with a wave.

  “I’m fair to middlin’. How about you?”

  “Still missin’ Edna, but otherwise doin’ okay.” Fannie strolled across the yard and stepped onto the porch. “I was on my way home from town and thought I’d drop by and see how you’re getting along.”

  Lydia motioned to the empty chair beside her. “I’m taki
ng some time off from my chores, so have a seat, and we can visit awhile.” She started to get up. “Can I get you something cold to drink?”

  Fannie waved a hand. “I’m fine. I had a bottle of cold root beer out of the vending machine down the street from my daughter’s quilt shop not long ago.”

  Lydia smiled, remembering how delicious the root beer was that Abraham used to make. “Don’t suppose that husband of yours has made any of his own root beer lately?”

  “In all the years we’ve been married, Abraham’s only made it a couple of times.” Fannie slowly shook her head. “I think every time he’s made root beer it’s reminded him of the day his little boy was stolen, although he never speaks of it anymore.”

  Lydia clicked her tongue. “Sometimes when I’m feeling sorry for myself because of Jacob’s accident, I think about all you and Abraham have been through, and I have to stop and count my blessings.”

  “Abraham, Naomi, and my daughter, Abby, they’re the ones who’ve really had their faith put to the test.” Fannie reached over and patted Lydia’s arm. “Keep trusting God; He will see you through.”

  Lydia nodded as tears clouded her vision. It was easy enough to say God was in control, but when one’s faith was put to the test, it was another matter.

  “Is Jacob getting any better?” Fannie asked.

  “Not really. Some days he’s hard to deal with because of his silly antics. Other days he seems calmer and more cooperative.” Lydia drew in a breath and released it with a huff. “He’s called Leona by her nickname a couple of times, which gave me some hope that he might remember she’s his daughter. But then he goes right back to calling her Mary again. Leona gets set down pretty hard whenever her daed doesn’t respond to things the way she would like.”

  “It has to be hatt for you, Leona, and Arthur to see Jacob like that and know there’s nothing you can do but pray and try to be there for him.”

  “Jah, it’s difficult, to be sure. Our other daughters, Peggy and Rebecca, are concerned, too. But with them both living in Kentucky, they only know what I write them and don’t get to see it firsthand.” Lydia forced a smile. “Jacob’s birthday is this Saturday; he’ll turn fifty-nine.”

  “Are you planning a party for him?”

  “I hadn’t given it much thought, but maybe I should. Might do him some good to have his family and close friends gathered together.” Lydia shrugged. “Who knows, it may even be helpful in bringing back his memory.”

  “I think it’s a fine idea.”

  “You, Abraham, and your whole family are invited, of course,” Lydia said, feeling a surge of excitement she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Maybe we can have a barbecue with cake and homemade ice cream for dessert.”

  Fannie licked her lips. “Sounds good to me. Just tell me what time the party will begin and what I can bring.”

  Jimmy whistled as he drove down the road toward the Weavers’ place. He seemed to be fitting in more all the time and was pleased that Lydia had invited him to attend the barbecue in honor of her husband’s birthday. It would give him a chance to get to know some of the others he hadn’t become well acquainted with yet. Abraham Fisher was one of those he had met on a few occasions but didn’t know so well. Abraham always kept his distance, and Jimmy wondered if the man might be prejudiced against him because he was English. Or maybe Abraham felt threatened by Jimmy’s friendship with the bishop. Leona had mentioned once that her dad and Abraham used to be good friends before Jacob’s accident. Now that he’d lost his memory and didn’t know who Abraham was, they had little to talk about. Of course, Jacob didn’t remember meeting Jimmy before the accident, either. But for some reason, he seemed taken with Jimmy and had quickly become his friend.

  When Jimmy pulled into the Weavers’ yard a short time later, he noticed several Amish buggies lined up beside the barn with their shafts resting on the ground. The horses had been unhitched, and he could see them moving around the corral.

  “I hope I’m not late. I thought Lydia said six o’clock, and it’s only two minutes after that now,” he mumbled, glancing at his watch—the one his dad had given him for his birthday. He flinched, realizing once more that he still hadn’t come to grips with the anger he felt over Jim’s deceit. The only way he’d been able to keep from thinking about it was to stay busy and concentrate on helping Jacob. In fact, that had become his primary focus. Looking for his family had taken a backseat. Of course, he reasoned, there’s a part of me that’s afraid to find my family, because I know that if Jim went to jail for kidnapping, I would feel disloyal to the only mother I’ve ever known.

  The pungent aroma of meat cooking on the grill drew Jimmy’s thoughts aside, and when he stepped out of the truck carrying a paper sack with the gift inside that he’d bought for Jacob, his stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, figuring he would make up for it tonight.

  Jimmy hurried around to the back side of the house and discovered several people, including Leona and her parents, seated at two oversized picnic tables. They were already eating, and he glanced at his watch again. The time was the same as it had been a few minutes ago, and he realized then that his watch had stopped.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said, stepping up to the table where Lydia and Jacob sat. “Guess the battery in my watch is dead.”

  Jacob grinned up at him. “Hi, Jimmy. Glad ya could make it to my party.”

  Lydia smiled and nodded. “You’re not so late.”

  “We just started eating a few minutes ago,” Arthur put in from across the table. “Grab yourself a burger from the grill and have a seat.”

  Jimmy handed Jacob the paper sack. “This is for you. Happy birthday.”

  Jacob’s smile widened. “What is it?”

  “Open the sack and take a look.”

  Jacob pulled it open and peered inside. “Umm. . .licorice.” He smacked his lips. “That’s my favorite candy.”

  Jimmy nodded. “There’s something else in there, too.”

  Jacob stuck his hand into the sack again and withdrew a paintbrush. He gave Jimmy a quizzical look, then turned to Lydia and swished the brush against the tip of her nose. “Does that tickle, Mama?”

  She chuckled and looked over at Jimmy.

  “I thought it might help spark a memory for him,” he said.

  She nodded. “Maybe so.”

  Jimmy glanced around, wondering where would be the best place to sit.

  “There’s a vacant spot next to Mary,” Jacob said, pointing to the bench where Leona sat.

  Jimmy smiled, and Leona offered him a brief smile in return. “You’re welcome to sit here if you like,” she said.

  Jimmy didn’t have to be asked twice. He enjoyed Leona’s company and thought if he was Amish or she was English, he might even be interested in dating her. I’m almost Amish, he reminded himself. After all, I was born to an Amish couple. He forked a juicy burger onto his plate and took a seat, hoping to focus his thoughts on something other than his past—a past he’d thought he had known about until he’d learned the truth concerning his so-called adoption.

  “I’m glad you were able to come to the party,” Leona said as she passed him a package of buns. “Would you like some ketchup or mustard to put on your meat?”

  “I’d like both, please.”

  “How about lettuce, tomatoes, or onions?”

  “Yeah, all three.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and Leona giggled. It was good to see her in better spirits tonight. She had been sullen ever since he’d met her, and even more so since her dad’s accident. She hadn’t actually said so, but the way she acted whenever she was around her dad made Jimmy think she was embarrassed by her father’s juvenile actions. The other day at the schoolhouse, Jacob had dropped a hunk of licorice Jimmy had given him, and he’d bent down, picked it up, and popped it into his mouth. Leona looked mortified, gave him a lecture about the ground being full of germs, and barely said more than two words to her dad after that.

  “Would you like some
potato salad?” Leona asked, touching Jimmy’s elbow with her hand.

  He felt a strange tingling sensation, and he gave his arm a quick once-over to see if some bug might have landed there. Relieved when he didn’t see anything, he bit into his burger and mumbled, “Sure, I’d love some.”

  Abraham folded his arms and leaned back in the wooden chair where he’d taken a seat on the Weavers’ front porch. A game of croquet was being played in the yard, and most of the young people were involved in it—everyone except Jacob’s youngest daughter, that is. Leona and that young English painter who Jacob had hired awhile back left the yard a few minutes ago.

  Abraham’s gaze went to the driveway where Leona walked between Jimmy and Jacob. Not only is my good friend taken in by that young Englisher, but his daughter seems to be, as well. I need to nip this in the bud, because I’m sure Jacob’s not going to do anything about it. Most of the time, he doesn’t even realize Leona is his daughter, much less show any concern for her welfare.

  He reached under the brim of his straw hat and scratched his forehead. Just who is this Jimmy Scott, and why’s he been hanging around Jacob so much? No one seems to know a lot about him other than the fact that he paints and comes from the state of Washington.

  “You ready for some ice cream?”

  “Huh?” Abraham looked up at his wife. She held a heaping bowl of vanilla ice cream in her hand. “Jah. Danki, Fannie.”

  “How come you’re sitting here by yourself?” she questioned. “I figured you’d be visiting with the birthday boy.”

  Abraham took the bowl from her and groaned. “That’s exactly what Jacob is, too. He might be fifty-nine years old on the outside, but inside he’s just a kid.” He pointed to the game in progress. “Did you see him out there earlier, snappin’ that ball around and hollering like he don’t have a lick of sense? Now he’s walking down the driveway with Leona and that Englisher like they’re the best of friends.”

  “You need to calm yourself down, husband,” Fannie said, easing into the chair beside him. “It’s not Jacob’s fault he can’t remember how old he is. Maybe if you talked to him more about the things you used to do together, it might help jog his memory.”