The Bishop's Daughter

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  She nodded and headed over to the ceramic cookie jar sitting on the cupboard. If only Jacob would remember that I’m his wife and not his mother. I can understand why Leona gets so upset with him. Some days it’s all I can do to keep a smile on my face. She piled several peanut butter cookies onto a plate. For Jacob’s sake, I’ll keep trying to have a positive attitude, and I can’t give up hope that he will recover someday.

  “I’ve already eaten my share,” Jimmy said when Lydia placed the cookies in front of him. “I need to see if the cupboards in here need to be painted as well as the ceiling and walls. Then I’ll be on my way.”

  “You can’t go now,” Jacob mumbled, grabbing a cookie and popping the whole thing into his mouth. “I ain’t seen ya yet today.”

  “As you probably know, my husband enjoys your company,” Lydia said to Jimmy. “So if you have a few more minutes, maybe you could sit and visit awhile.” She glanced toward the back door and frowned. “I think my daughter’s had enough time alone, so I’m going to check on her now.”

  “I’ll have a couple more cookies; then Jacob can help me look the kitchen over, and we’ll see what all needs to be done,” Jimmy said.

  In Jacob’s present condition, Lydia didn’t see how he could be any help in deciding what part of the kitchen needed painting, but if it gave him something to do, then she had no problem with it. “There’s a jug of milk in the refrigerator,” she called on her way out the door.

  “I think Mama’s mad at me,” Jacob said, leaning his elbows on the table. “She don’t like my pet goat. I saw her kick at him once when she was hangin’ clothes on the line and he kept trying to steal ’em from the basket.”

  “Maybe it would be best if you kept the goat locked in the pen with the other goats.”

  Jacob frowned. “That’s what Ona says all the time.”

  Jimmy was pleased that Jacob had referred to Leona as Ona and not Mary. He’d either begun to remember that she was his daughter, or he’d simply come to accept the idea because his family had told him it was so. He’d obviously not figured out that Lydia was his wife, though, and that had to be hard on the poor woman.

  Jacob scooted his chair back and ambled over to the refrigerator. He removed a gallon of milk and placed it on the table. Then he marched across the room and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. “You want some milk, Jimmy? It’s plenty cold.”

  “No thanks.” Jimmy pointed to his empty glass. “Leona and I had some iced tea awhile ago.”

  “Ona’s gonna be real upset ’cause her dog is dead. Got hit by a car, she did.”

  “Yes, I heard about it from Lydia.”

  Jacob’s face sobered. “Bad things happen to people, too. Mama keeps tellin’ me that I fell and hit my head, but I don’t remember fallin’.” He gave his beard a couple of pulls. “Last thing I remember is walkin’ home from school with my bruder, Dan. We stopped and picked some cherries that were growin’ in the field along the way.” He wrinkled his nose. “Guess they wasn’t ripe yet ’cause they sure was sour. Dan took one bite and spit it right out. You never seen a person make such an ugly face.”

  Jimmy thought back to the time when his mother had made a cherry pie and hadn’t put enough sugar in. She had cried when she realized that she’d ruined the pie.

  Thinking about Mom made Jimmy feel sad, and he stared across the room at nothing in particular, fighting a wave of despair that gripped him as suddenly as a summer storm. Not only had the only mother he’d ever known been taken from him, but he’d also never had the opportunity to know his real mother or any of his Amish family. Life could be unfair, and it was hard to understand why God allowed so many tragedies. Then he glanced up at Jacob and reminded himself that the man who sat across from him couldn’t remember anything past the first grade. It made his problems seem small by comparison.

  Jacob tapped Jimmy on the arm. “How come you’re lookin’ so down-in-the-mouth? Are you sad about Ona’s dog dyin’, or is there somethin’ funny up?”

  Something funny up? Jimmy smiled. That must be Jacob’s way of asking if there’s something amiss. “I do feel bad about Leona’s dog dying,” he said with a nod, “but I was thinking about other things that make me feel sad.”

  Jacob leaned closer. “What makes ya sad? Did your dog die, too?”

  “No. I never had a dog when I was growing up.”

  “How about a cat? Ever have one of them?”

  Jimmy shook his head.

  “Then why are ya sad?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Jah.”

  “Well, for one thing, I recently learned that I was stolen when I was a baby.”

  “Really?”

  Jimmy didn’t know what had made him blurt that out, but now that he had, he felt like sharing more. He was sure the bishop wouldn’t think he was making up the story or question his motives, and it might feel good to finally tell someone the reason he’d come to Pennsylvania.

  “My real family is Amish,” Jimmy said. “And I believe they live somewhere in Lancaster County.”

  Jacob’s bushy eyebrows drew together, and he stared at Jimmy. “Ya don’t look Amish to me. Your hair’s not cut right, and ya ain’t wearin’ no suspenders.”

  “I’m not Amish now. The man who kidnapped me is English.” Jimmy picked up his glass and rolled the remaining chunks of ice around, letting them clink against each other. “Until recently, I didn’t know I’d been born Amish. That’s why I’m here in Pennsylvania—to look for the family I lost.”

  Jacob brushed some cookie crumbs off the table. “I lost a kitten once. Somebody must have stole it ’cause it never came back.”

  Jimmy inwardly groaned. I shouldn’t have expected him to show much interest in my story.

  “You gonna look for your mamm and daed?” Jacob asked, taking another gulp of milk.

  “I think my real mother is dead. At least that’s what my dad—I mean, the man who took me—said.”

  “Dead, like Ona’s dog?”

  Jimmy nodded and drank the liquid from the melted ice in his glass. “I don’t suppose you might know of anyone in these parts who sells homemade root beer or had a child taken from their yard?”

  “Don’t know nothin’ about no baby bein’ snatched away, but Mama bought me a bottle of root beer the other day. It came out of a machine in front of a store in town.”

  Jimmy blew out his breath and stood. This conversation was going nowhere, and it was time to do what he’d come here for. “Say, Jacob, how would you like to help me paint this kitchen next week?”

  The bishop blinked a couple of times, clapped his hands together, and his deep laughter bounced off the kitchen walls. “I’d like that. Jah, I’d like that a lot!”

  The next few weeks were difficult as Leona mourned the loss of her dog and tried to stay away from Papa as much as possible. She still blamed him for Cinnamon’s death, and rather than saying things she would regret later on, she’d decided it was best to keep some distance between them. She knew it wasn’t right to hold a grudge, but her daed still did things to embarrass her, which only fueled her frustration.

  During the last preaching service, Papa had stood up in the middle of one of the minister’s sermons and quoted a Bible verse. Some said it was a sign that he was improving, but Leona thought it had been a childish thing to do, even if Papa had cited Luke 18:16 by memory. “But Jesus called them unto him, and said, ‘Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.’ ”

  Shrugging her thoughts aside, Leona moved to the window so she could watch her pupils playing in the school yard during recess. She’d sent her helper, Betty Zook, to oversee things while she looked over the afternoon reading assignment. Maybe I should be the one outside with my students. Being in the fresh air and joining the kinner in a few games might do me some good. It would be better than standing here thinking about how mixed up my life has become. She sighed. If things could only be the same as they were when I
was a girl. Papa and I aren’t close like we once were, and things between Mom and me feel more strained than ever.

  “Papa is some better, though,” she murmured, turning away from the window. Last Saturday, her daed had helped Jimmy work in their kitchen. Of course, Papa had only done some of the easier things like covering the floor with a drop cloth, stirring the can of paint, and sanding some of the cupboards before Jimmy painted them. At least it had kept him occupied, which had given Leona and her mother a chance to get something done without having to check up on him.

  When the kitchen was finished, Jimmy had told Leona that he wanted to give her daed the chance to do more meaningful things, and he’d said he was planning to ask Arthur if they could find some chores for Papa to do on some of their paint jobs.

  Leona appreciated the time Jimmy spent with her daed, but having the Englisher around so much made her feel rather unsettled. She’d been fighting a growing attraction to Jimmy, and that upset her almost as much as dealing with Papa’s memory loss. It wasn’t right that she should feel drawn to someone outside of her faith. It wasn’t good for her to think so much about the Englisher, even daydreaming about what it would be like if they were married. Was this weakness in her spirit a product of her declining faith? Maybe I’d better speak with someone about it. Maybe. . .

  A shrill scream halted Leona’s thoughts, and she drew her attention back to the school yard. She noticed a group of children gathered in a circle, and thinking one of them might have been injured, she dashed out the front door.

  “What happened?” she asked Emanuel Lapp, who came bounding up the steps as she was descending them.

  “Some of the younger ones were playin’, and Millie Hoffmeir fell,” he said breathlessly. “Betty sent me to get you.”

  Leona rushed across the school yard and over to the group of children. Millie lay on the ground in the middle of the circle whimpering and holding her right arm. “What happened, Millie?”

  The child looked up at Leona with tears in her eyes. “I—I fell off the teeter-totter. My arm hurts, Teacher.”

  “Can you wiggle your fingers?”

  Millie nodded as she opened and closed them a few times.

  “Are you able to move your arm?”

  The child winced as she tried to lift her arm. It might only be a bad sprain, but Leona knew X-rays were needed to determine if it was broken. She decided to take the girl to the Hoffmeirs’ store so her folks could get her to the doctor. She put a makeshift sling around the child’s arm. Then, after instructing her helper to take charge of the class, she led Millie over to the buggy and carefully helped her climb in. As soon as Millie’s older brother had the horse hitched up, Leona situated herself in the driver’s seat, gathered up the reins, and headed out of the school yard.

  “Here’s a basket of fruit and some cookies,” Fannie said to Abraham as he stashed two fishing poles into the back of his buggy. “There’s also a thermos full of cold milk.”

  He smiled gratefully and took the wicker basket from her, placing it on the front seat of the buggy. “Danki. It’s much appreciated.”

  “I think it will do both you and Jacob some good to spend a few hours together,” she said.

  “I hope you’re right about that. Me and the boys have been so busy in the fields lately that I haven’t had much time for socializing.” Abraham leaned down to kiss his wife on the cheek. “I’ve been lookin’ for an opportunity to be alone with Jacob, and I’m hoping during our time together he might remember something about the good times we used to have.”

  She nodded. “It would be wunderbaar if he did.”

  “That young English fellow from out West has been takin’ up way too much of Jacob’s time.” Abraham frowned. “I probably shouldn’t be sayin’ this, but I don’t trust Jimmy Scott any farther than I can toss a bale of hay. Maybe not even that far.”

  “He seems like a nice man to me.” Fannie gave Abraham’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Maybe you should get to know him better.”

  Abraham climbed into his buggy. “Not sure I want to get to know him.” He grabbed up the reins and gave them a quick snap. The horse moved forward, and he turned to offer Fannie a wave. “I’ll be home before supper.”

  By the time Abraham had picked up Jacob and headed his horse and buggy in the direction of the pond, the afternoon sun had reached its hottest point. He didn’t care, for he knew they could find solace under the shade of a maple tree near the water. Besides, it would be good to spend time with his old friend again, and the heat of summer seemed like a small thing.

  He glanced over at Jacob, who’d been leaning out the window and making remarks about the things he saw along the way. Dear Lord, Abraham prayed, let me say or do something today that will stir some memories in my good friend’s jumbled head.

  A short time later, Abraham lounged beside Jacob on the grassy banks near the water’s edge, both of them holding a fishing pole.

  “I like to fish,” Jacob said with an eager expression, “and I’m hopin’ to get me a couple today.”

  Abraham smiled. “Maybe you will.”

  Jacob gripped his pole and stared at Abraham. “Mama says you’re my good friend.”

  “That’s true. We’ve been friends since your folks moved to this area when you were twelve years old.”

  Jacob’s forehead wrinkled, and he squinted as though he was trying to recall. “Sometimes my head hurts when I try to think about things I can’t remember.”

  “That’s all right.” Abraham pointed to the water. “Let’s just fish and enjoy our time together.”

  “Jah, okay.”

  They sat in companionable silence for the next half hour. Then, suddenly, Jacob leaned over to Abraham and said, “Jimmy’s my friend, too, did ya know that?”

  Abraham’s only reply was a brief nod. The last person he wanted to talk about was Jimmy Scott. He didn’t think Jacob needed to discuss the Englisher, either.

  “Jimmy let me help him paint Mama’s kitchen. That was fun.”

  Abraham clenched his teeth.

  “Jimmy’s sad ’cause someone stole his kitten and he don’t know where to find it.”

  “I didn’t know Jimmy had a kitten.”

  “Jah. Some man came along and snatched it away, so Jimmy came here to find it. I had a kitten stolen once, but now I’ve got me a pet goat named Billy.”

  Abraham groaned. All this talk about missing kittens and pet goats didn’t give him much hope that Jacob’s memory would ever return. He needed to find something they could talk about that might trigger some recent recollections.

  “Ona don’t like my goat,” Jacob continued. “She thinks it’s my fault her dog got killed ’cause the goat chased it into the street.” He sniffed. “I don’t like havin’ her mad at me. I think she wishes it had been Billy who died ’stead of Cinnamon.”

  The dejected look on Jacob’s face made Abraham’s heart clench. For the first time since his friend’s accident, Abraham found himself caring less about the man’s memory returning and more about finding some way to offer comfort to one who was obviously hurting.

  He pulled the wicker basket Fannie had given him between them and flipped open the lid. “How about some cookies and milk?”

  Jacob nodded eagerly and smacked his lips. “Are they oatmeal cookies? Those are my favorite.”

  Abraham was glad Jacob’s mood had improved so quickly. That was something to be grateful for, since they still hadn’t caught any fish. “I think my wife made both chocolate chip and oatmeal cookies,” he said with a smile.

  As Leona drove home from Paradise later that day, she reflected on all that had happened since Millie’s accident. When she’d taken the little girl to her folks’ store and told them what happened, Naomi had been short with her, asking why she hadn’t been outside with her students during recess and accusing her of not watching them closely enough. Leona had tried to explain that her helper had been with the kinner, but Naomi was too upset to listen.

  When
Caleb and Naomi took Millie to a nearby clinic, Leona waited to find out the extent of the child’s injury and to help Naomi’s two oldest girls, who had been left to run the store by themselves. Upon the Hoffmeirs’ return, Leona was distressed to learn that Millie’s arm was broken and she would miss school until she got used to her cast and the pain had lessened. With the problem she was having in learning to read and write, missing any time from school was not a good thing.

  Before Leona left the store, she’d mentioned the trouble Millie was still having in school and suggested that she give the girl some extra lessons. Naomi had taken offense to that, and Leona left the store berating herself for being an incompetent teacher.

  “If only there was a way to make things better,” she murmured. “Ezra’s dead, Papa’s got amnesia, my dog is gone, and I can’t do right by my students anymore. Maybe it would be best if I quit teaching. Maybe I should get away for a while—go off someplace where I can be alone to think things through.” Leona tensed and tightened her grip on the reins. “But where would I go, and what good would it do?” She remembered before Papa’s amnesia, when he used to say that it didn’t pay to run away from your problems. During the time when he’d actively been their bishop, he’d reminded the people to trust God in all things.

  Blinking against stinging tears, she whispered a prayer for the first time in many weeks. “Lord, I need help. Please help me to believe again and to put my trust in You.”

  While Jim waited for Holly, he stared out the window at a curious seagull that had landed on the deck railing outside the restaurant. Holly had agreed to meet him at noon, and though it was twelve fifteen, she still hadn’t arrived. Could she have gotten caught up in heavy traffic or had trouble with her car?

  He wrapped his fingers around the glass of iced tea the waitress had brought him. Maybe Holly’s not coming. Maybe she thinks I’m a lost cause because I won’t go to church or AA meetings. He took a drink and let the cool liquid trickle down his throat, wishing it were a bottle of beer. But he knew if Holly showed up and saw him with an alcoholic drink in his hand, she probably wouldn’t agree to help him.