“I thought we were going to hear Jimmy out,” Fannie said.
Abraham squinted at Jimmy again. “Tell us what else you know about that day.”
“The name of the man who went there to buy root beer is Jim Scott. I grew up thinking he was my father. It wasn’t until shortly after my twenty-first birthday that I learned I had been adopted and that my folks had gotten me through a lawyer in Bel Air, Maryland.” Jimmy gulped in another breath of air. “So I went there to speak with the lawyer, but I was in for a big surprise.”
“What surprise was that?” Matthew asked.
“I was told that there had been no adoption for Jim and Linda Scott through that office. The lawyer said my dad—Jim—never left his office with a baby because the birth mother had changed her mind and decided to keep the child.”
Abraham gave Jimmy another one of his irritating scowls. “What’s this got to do with my missing son?”
“I’m getting to that.” Jimmy glanced at Leona, hoping she might say something that would give him a little encouragement, but she just sat there.
“Uh. . .anyway,” he continued, “after I left the lawyer’s office, I called Jim and demanded to know what had happened at the lawyer’s office. He admitted that the adoption had fallen through, and then he told me some wild story, which I was sure he had made up, about him driving onto an Amish farm asking for root beer, and my Amish sister going into the house to get the root beer and leaving me on the table. He said I was wiggling around, and he was afraid I might fall off, so he picked me up.” Jimmy paused again and swallowed a couple of times. “Then, with no thought of the consequences, Dad—I mean, Jim—dashed to his van and drove off.”
Everyone who had gathered around Jimmy gaped at him without uttering a word. Jimmy wasn’t sure if they thought he was some kind of a nut, or if they believed his wild story. He decided he’d better get the rest told while he still had a captive audience.
“So then, when we got to the hotel where Jim’s wife was waiting, he told her that I was the child they’d come to adopt.”
Naomi’s sister Nancy let out a yelp. “Ach, my! You really are my little bruder!”
“I told you,” Jacob said with a nod.
Abraham stood there with a stony face, but Naomi reached across Leona and grabbed hold of Jimmy’s arm. “If what you’ve told us is true, then why haven’t you said something to one of us before now?”
“And why’d you return to Washington and then come back again?” Jake asked.
Jimmy looked at Leona to gauge her reaction. Tears shimmered in her green eyes, but she was smiling. It bolstered his courage enough to say more. “I came here last summer with the hope of finding my real family, but every lead I had turned out to be a dead end. No one I spoke with knew anything about a kidnapping that had happened twenty years ago. And then I started working for Jacob and knew I needed to stick around to see what the Amish were all about.”
“That doesn’t explain why you never asked any of us if we knew anything about a kidnapped baby,” Norman spoke up.
“I wanted to, but I was afraid if I blurted something like that out and nobody believed me I might be asked to leave.” Jimmy groaned. “I was also concerned that if the truth came to light and I did actually find my family that my dad—Jim—might end up in jail.”
“The Amish don’t prosecute,” Samuel said.
Jimmy nodded. “So I’ve been told.”
“So what was your excuse for not saying anything then?” Norman asked.
“Jah,” Jake agreed. “If you really had been kidnapped and wanted to find your real family, I would think you would have left no stone unturned.”
“I did ask a couple of people, but they didn’t know what I was talking about.”
Abraham’s frown deepened. “Who’d you ask?”
“I mentioned it to Jacob, but he didn’t seem to understand much of what I had said. I also asked Eli, and he said he’d never heard anyone around here speak of losing a baby that way.” Jimmy shrugged. “So I figured no one else in the area would know anything or believe my story.”
“Eli’s not been around long enough to know what happened back then,” Jacob put in. “He and his folks moved here from Indiana four years ago. You should have asked someone who’s been livin’ here longer.”
All eyes turned from Jimmy and focused on Jacob, and his wife grabbed him in a hug. “Oh, husband, you remember who you are!”
“ ’Course I do. I’m Bishop Jacob Weaver, and you’re my wife, Lydia.”
Leona stood and leaned close to her daed. “Do you know me, Papa?”
“Said I did when I called you over here a few minutes ago, didn’t I?”
She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. “We’ve had two miracles today. Your memory has returned, and Abraham’s son has come home!”
Abraham stood there, slowly shaking his head as though in a daze. Jimmy, feeling much the same, struggled to his feet and moved over to stand beside Abraham. “Soon after I went back to Washington, I realized that while I’d been living and working here I had discovered a side of myself I didn’t know existed.” He paused and waited to see how Abraham would react.
“Go on.”
“Then I read a verse of scripture found in Psalm 27:11 that made me stop and think about my life.”
“ ‘Teach me thy way, O Lord, and lead me in a plain path,’ ” Abraham quoted.
Jimmy nodded. “I believe the Lord showed me through that verse that deep down inside I really am Amish, and I have decided that I want to follow the Plain path.”
Abraham shifted from one foot to the other. Then he took one step forward.
Jimmy swallowed hard in an attempt to push down the lump that had lodged in his throat.
“I—I can’t believe that after all these years God would finally answer my prayers.” Abraham paused. “But I believe He has, and—” His voice broke, and he rocked back and forth on his heels. “And after I’ve treated you so badly, thinking you were out to destroy Leona’s life—”
“It doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters except trying to make up for the years we’ve lost.” Jimmy opened his arms, and giving no thought as to whether he would be accepted, he embraced his father.
Abraham held his body rigid at first. Then he hugged Jimmy so hard he could barely catch his breath. “There’s so much I want to tell you, son. So very much.”
“And I want to hear it all.”
Everyone shed a few tears as they took turns hugging Jimmy and welcoming him home.
“There are many things that each of us wants to hear.” Naomi smiled at Jimmy. “We want to know the details of your life out there in Washington, too.”
Jimmy nodded and reached for Leona’s hand, pulling her gently to his side. “If there’s no objections, I’d like to do whatever is required of me in order to join the Amish church.” He looked over at Jacob, who winked at him, and then he smiled at Leona and said, “If this special woman will have me, I hope to make her my wife some day.”
Leona looked a bit hesitant at first, but then her face relaxed and she looked at her father. “Well, Papa, what do you have to say about that?”
Jacob nodded and thumped Jimmy on the back. “I always knew I liked you—even when you weren’t Zach Fisher.”
After everyone’s laughter died down, Jimmy sent up a silent prayer. Thank You, God—for bringing me home.
Eighteen months later
Congratulations on your marriage.” Jim hugged the newlyweds as they all stood in the Weavers’ front yard, following the wedding ceremony. “Thanks for inviting Holly and me to witness your vows. I’m so proud of you, Jimmy—I mean, Zach.” He swallowed hard. “I know Linda would be proud, too.”
“Mom. She was my mom,” Zach corrected. “And it’s okay if you keep calling me Jimmy, because until I found my Amish family, it was the only name I’d ever known. To tell you the truth, even after living here over a year as Zach Fisher, I’m still trying to get used to my real
name.” He smiled at his bride, and the tender look she gave him spoke volumes. Jim was pleased with his son’s choice for a wife. He knew from all he’d heard about the bishop’s daughter that she was a special woman.
“Are you ready to meet Abraham now?” Zach asked.
Jim nodded, but he didn’t move from the spot where he and his own new bride stood on the Weavers’ front lawn.
“It’s going to be all right, honey,” Holly whispered in his ear. “The Lord will help you through this and give you the right words.” She stepped away from Jim and took hold of Leona’s arm. “Why don’t we let our men tend to business while the two of us get better acquainted?”
“I think that’s a fine idea.” Leona gave her husband a hug. “I’ll see you inside for the wedding supper.”
Zach led the way, and Jim followed him across the yard to where a tall, bearded man stood talking with Bishop Weaver near the barn. When they approached, the bishop nodded and said, “I’d best go inside and see how things are going.”
Zach stepped up to the other man and touched his shoulder. “Abraham, this is my dad—I mean, Jim Scott.”
As Jim reached his hand out to Abraham Fisher, his throat felt so clogged he wasn’t sure he could speak. “For many years, I dreaded the thought of meeting you, but now I’m thankful God has given me this opportunity to tell you how sorry I am for taking your child.”
Abraham nodded. “You already apologized in that letter you sent soon after Zach returned to Pennsylvania.”
“Yes, but I—I needed to say it in person.” Jim paused to regain his composure. “What I did was unthinkable, and I wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me for kidnapping Jimmy—I mean, Zach.”
“In Matthew 6:14, Jesus said, ‘For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.’ ” Tears gathered in the corners of Abraham’s eyes. “Many years ago, I forgave the one who had taken my son away, even though I didn’t know if I’d ever see my boy again.”
Zach squeezed Jim’s arm, and he found comfort in the reassuring gesture. “I want you to know that, even though what I did was wrong, God used my horrible deed to bring about something good,” Jim continued.
“What was that?” Abraham asked.
“If it hadn’t been for your son’s influence and the Christian example he set, I never would have come to know the Lord as my Savior.”
Abraham gave his beard a couple of quick pulls. “I remember one time, soon after Zach’s disappearance, my friend Jacob Weaver told me that God could take something bad like Zach being kidnapped and use it for good.” He clasped Zach’s shoulder with one hand and Jim’s with the other. “I believe He has done just that.”
Leona stood on the front porch talking to Holly and Fannie. Her gaze traveled across the yard to where her husband stood with the two men who both called him son. Leona marveled at the way God had brought Zach Fisher home to his real family, yet she couldn’t help but feel some concern. She wanted to feel hopeful over the prospect of Abraham and Jim having this discussion, but a thread of caution wove its way into her soul. Would Abraham even speak to the man who had taken his son away? She knew Abraham had told Zach he’d forgiven Jim Scott, but now that the two of them stood face-to-face, would he still feel that way?
“My husband’s done a lot of growing,” Fannie said as though she could read Leona’s thoughts.
Holly put her arm around Leona’s waist and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Mine has, as well.”
Leona nodded as tears clouded her vision. She had done a lot of growing in the last eighteen months, too. No longer was she bound by fear or consumed with bitterness. The day God saved her life through her daed’s urgent call was the day she’d come to realize that, while there are no guarantees in life, God wanted her to trust Him completely. So, setting her fear of losing Zach aside, she had agreed that he could court her.
Zach joined the women a short time later. “I left my two daeds to talk things out. I think everything’s going to be fine.”
The screen door opened, and Naomi stepped onto the porch carrying a gift in her hands. “This is for you and Leona,” she said, handing the package to Zach.
He balanced the box on the porch railing, and he and Leona opened it together. Inside was a small patchwork quilt. Zach stared at it several seconds; then a light dawned. “I—I think I’ve seen this before—or at least a quilt just like it. I found it in a bag of paint rags in my dad’s garage when I was a kid.”
Naomi nodded. “Abby Fisher gave it to me after she returned from a trip to Montana several years ago. She said an Amish woman she knew had found it at a thrift shop somewhere in the state of Washington.” She smiled, and tears sprang to her eyes. “I recognized it right away and knew it had been your quilt when you were a baby. It was with you the day you were kidnapped.”
“So that’s why Jim seemed so upset when I showed it to him. He’d obviously been hiding it from my mom, afraid she might ask where he’d gotten it.” Zach clutched the quilt tightly. “He must have gotten rid of it soon after that, because I never saw it again.”
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose,” Holly quoted from Romans 8:28 as she touched Jimmy’s shoulder.
He nodded. “I have to agree with that.”
A gentle wind lapped the hem of Leona’s blue wedding dress as the sun slipped from behind the clouds. At that moment, she knew for certain that God controlled everything in the universe. Her hand trailed along the edges of the narrow white ties of her kapp as she gazed at the pink, puffy clouds. “Thank You, Lord,” she whispered. “You have given us all so much to be thankful for on this special day.”
Jimmy took hold of her hand. “And I thank You for the love You’ve given me through all my family.” He gently squeezed her fingers. “I especially thank You for allowing me to know, love, and finally marry the bishop’s sweet daughter.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The idea for this series was born several years ago when my husband and I visited an Amish farm for some root beer, and it is with great appreciation that I recognize those who have helped make the Daughters of Lancaster County series a reality: Rebecca Germany and Susan Downs, my patient, ever-helpful editors; Richard Brunstetter, my husband of forty-three years, who is always there to offer support and encouragement; Leeann Curtis and Birdie Etchison, for their critique help; Betty Yoder, Katherine Baar, Ruth Stoltzfus, Arie King, Sue Miller, and Monk and Marijane Troyer, for their research assistance. Most of all, I thank my heavenly Father, who gives me the inspiration and desire to write.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
WANDA E. BRUNSTETTER enjoys writing about the Amish because they live a peaceful, simple life. Wanda’s interest in the Amish and other Plain communities began when she married her husband, Richard, who grew up in a Mennonite church in Pennsylvania. Wanda has made numerous trips to Lancaster County and has several friends and family members living near that area. She and her husband have also traveled to other parts of the country, meeting various Amish families and getting to know them personally. She hopes her readers will learn to love the wonderful Amish people as much as she does.
Wanda and her husband, Richard, have been married forty-three years. They have two grown children and six grandchildren. In her spare time, Wanda enjoys reading, ventriloquism, gardening, stamping, and having fun with her family.
Wanda has written several novels, novellas, stories, articles, poems, and puppet scripts.
To learn more about Wanda, visit her Web site at www.wandabrunstetter.com and feel free to e-mail her at [email protected].
Table of Contents
Cover
Title
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
The Bishop's Daughter Page 30
