That thought curdled in Wayne’s gut. He hated to accept charity, even from one of their own. I have no choice. The alternative is. . . disaster. If we are going to keep what we have, I have to accept their help. Releasing a long, gusty sigh, Wayne nodded twice. “Ja. Talk to him, please. If they can help me keep my customers and fill my current orders, plus any that may be coming in, that would be. . . so helpful.”
At the end of her visit, Lizzie squeezed Wayne’s good hand. She was hopeful. He hadn’t lost his temper when she told him that she was going back to work.
In his hospital room, Wayne lay back in his bed, just thinking. While he had been discussing his situation with Lizzie, he was uncomfortably aware of his own shameful role in his accident. Ach, that was my own fault, nobody else’s. I went into my shop angry. Very angry, as it turns out. I should have been nowhere near my saws that night. Looking at his heavily casted arm, Wayne sighed. He knew just how close he had come to completely losing his arm at the elbow—too close. Getting out of bed, he slowly slipped his feet into slippers and, pulling slowly on the IV tubing, he stood at the window, just remembering back to that night. Remembering his anger at Lizzie as she told him she couldn’t stop working on the quilting order she had, Wayne looked down, feeling very small. How do I continue to maintain this attitude about her working? I have no choice for now, and that’s why I was able to accept her news. But what will happen when I am discharged? Wayne distantly heard the hated sound of his daed’s own voice as he yelled at his long-absent mamm. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head, trying to force the voices and memories out of his mind. Nee, Wayne. She isn’t going to leave you. She came to you tonight and told you that she had taken a job just to keep us afloat.
The next night, when Lizzie came into his hospital room, Wayne told her what he had been thinking the night before. “Wife, I am so ashamed of my actions that night. Our argument—nee, I didn’t hit you, but I was overwhelmed with my anger. I did something stupid by trying to trim that lumber while I was still so distracted by my emotions. I wasn’t watching what I was doing. And now. . .”
Lizzie was silent. With her right hand, she began rapidly squeezing her forefinger and releasing it—a habit she had picked up as a child. Her silence continued. Finally, she spoke. “Husband, please know that I love you deeply. We began as friends, then our relationship grew deeper, with Gott’s help. We have been struggling with this issue for a long, long time. Years. I don’t know how I can help you understand that I am your helpmate. We are to stand beside each other, helping each other and providing support and love to each other. If that means that Gott wants me to stand beside you, offering help by working in the shop, then I will carry out His will. And I hope that, one day soon, you will understand that doing so is only to help our family. Not me.”
Wayne felt more tuned into Lizzie than he had for several years. He kept his eyes focused on her expressive face, watching her eyes as he took in her words. As she spoke, he felt the truth of what she said sinking into him. Closing his eyes, he allowed her voice and message to move into his heart. Sighing deeply, he nodded, taking her hand with his own good one. He squeezed it, then as was his habit when he was thinking, he ran his hand down the length of his beard. “Ja. I hear you. I truly do, wife. I need to think about what you have said before the nurses come in to torture me.”
Wayne’s heartfelt tears caused Lizzie to begin crying. Wiping tears from her cheeks, giggled just as she used to when she and Wayne had courted. “‘Torture?’ They are cleaning your wounds!”
“Ja, but it hurts! And I am starting therapy in two weeks.”
Lizzie nodded. “Okay. I will leave now. Please, think about what I just said. I want to be your helpmate, husband. Nothing more. And nothing less. I have a good heart and I have a skill I can use to help our family.”
Realizing the truth of Lizzie’s words, Wayne ended. “I will pray for strength to accept the changes. And the torture.” Wayne’s eyes twinkled as he delivered the last.
Lizzie laughed outright. “Oh, husband! Leaning down, she kissed him, thanking Gott for the return of his sneaky sense of humor.
After Lizzie left to meet her driver and go back home, Wayne closed his eyes for a few minutes before the nurse came in to clean his wounds. Gott, Lizzie spoke the truth. After talking to the doctor and my physical therapist, it will take months before I can take on all of my regular carpentry work. We can’t go for that long with no income. Ja, the other carpenters in Peace Valley are helping me with my current orders. But I will need to bring in more work so we can keep paying our bills, even though we do have money set aside.
And ja, Lizzie and Leora are going to have to work. Gott, I don’t know why I get so angry at the thought of Lizzie working outside the home. I got warned months ago that, if I went after her again, I would lose the community after being banned. Gott, please help me with that! Because I don’t know what else to do. Once he finishes his prayer, Wayne got up and moved over to his hospital room window, looking out at the activity outdoors. As he saw people entering and leaving the hospital, he became aware of a small, quiet voice.
“Wayne, you know good and well what is happening. You don’t need to admit it. You want control over your wife. Lizzie. You don’t want her to have any independence because you fear she’ll do something bad with it. She was telling the truth. She only wants to help your family by working at the quilt shop. You need to step back and let her help you out, as you are letting the community help you. Or you will lose everything and everyone you held dear.”
Standing at the window, Wayne allowed his forehead to rest against the cool pane. Gott has spoken strongly and lovingly to him and he knows that He is right. He vows, with Gott’s help, to work with Lizzie as partners in life.
CHAPTER FOUR
A few months later, Wayne is still undergoing physical therapy several times a week as he struggles to regain full use of his hand and arm. He has been able to stick to his vow to step back as Lizzie works at the shop. But it hasn’t been easy for him—he has had several struggles to accept her words at face value.
Every so often, Wayne got flashbacks and memories of his mamm, who had worked as a baker in their Old Order Amish community before leaving his daed. The day she left was etched as clear as crystal in his memory. He had been no more than twelve years old. Running into the house from school, he stopped cold. The kitchen was dark, the stove cold. Spinning around, he ran around all the rooms upstairs and downstairs, looking for her. “Mamm? Mamm? Mamm! Where are you?” It was only when he ran to the barn to ask his daed where mamm was that he found out. “Wayne, your mamm cleaned out our bank account and left. She is gone. And she is not coming back!” Wayne remembered that his daed’s voice had been sharp with anger and even some fear. He had backed up from his daed, fearful of his anger—even at that young age, he had witnessed heart-searing scenes that no child should ever have to experience. His daed, smacking his mamm on the face. Pushing her against the kitchen sink and cabinets, yelling in her face. Seeing his mamm, tears shiny on her face as she sported yet another black eye or split lip.
Wayne also remembered the times he and his siblings cowered upstairs in their rooms after bedtime, trying not to listen to their daed’s shouts at their mamm. Hearing her scream, beg and cry out as her husband hit and pushed her. All of this had damaging effects on Wayne and all of his siblings. All of his sisters had married abusive men who refused to allow them to have any say in whether they worked outside the home or not. Wayne saw them come to family gatherings, huge with pregnancy, sporting mysterious injuries that they tried to pass off as accidents or clumsiness.
Coming back to the present day, Wayne drew in a shaky breath and opened his eyes. Gott, please help me to stop abusing her! For now, he was sincere in his desire to become a better, more loving husband.
Even though Wayne bore a dim knowledge that what his daed had done to his mamm was abuse, he was unable to explicitly admit it to himself. All the years that he continue
d to live under his daed’s roof, he silently accepted his daed’s condemnation of his mamm, nodding when his daed denounced her as a bad woman. Wayne and his siblings had never heard from or seen her again. They didn’t know if she was still alive, where she was if she still lived or what she was doing.
Most mornings or afternoons, seeing Lizzie and Leora leaving for The Quilt Place, Wayne was grateful for the added money their work brought into their home. If he heard old, fear-inducing voices, he did all he could to shake them out of his mind, staying as focused as he could on the benefits of Lizzie’s and Leora’s employment. Nee! Get behind me, Satan! They are only doing good for our family. Our bills are paid. We have managed to pay off the bank note for my newest carpentry equipment. On these days, Wayne would take out the savings account book and remind himself that almost everything Lizzie and Leora earned was going into their accounts. Leora was managing to save a tidy sum for herself as well. Looking at the growing numbers helped Wayne to reorient himself in reality.
On his way home from one of his three-times-weekly physical therapy sessions, sitting in the hired driver’s car, Wayne grimaced at the pain he felt from the session just past.
“So, how’s your arm? Are you doing your exercises every day?”
“Ja, Kevin, I am. But it hurts!”
“Yeah, I understand. I wrenched my back a few years before I retired. My doc ordered physical therapy for me and it was mandatory for me before I was allowed to report back as a paramedic. I had to keep in mind that, as long as I did my exercises exactly as my therapist showed me, that pain was good. I was strengthening my muscles. What kinds of exercises do you have?”
“Strengthening and stretching. I have to squeeze a little tennis ball. Using my hand and arm. . . Kevin, that hurts!”
“I get you there. Yeah, I sure do. But just let your therapist know if any pain doesn’t feel right. Do you use heat or ice after your sessions? Take anything for it?”
“Ja, for the heat and ice. I’m allowed to take ibuprofen or acetaminophen, but that’s all. My doctor only wanted me to take the real powerful painkillers for two or three weeks.”
“Those are pretty strong and you can get in trouble with those. Just keep doing what you’re doing. I can see that you’re getting more movement back in your arm and hand.”
“Denki. I will. Here’s what I owe you for today. Will you be able to pick me up on Friday?”
“Unfortunately, no. I told my buddy about you. His name’s Andy. He drives a Ford F-150, dark blue. He’ll pick you up at eight-thirty on Friday and bring you home. But I’ll be back as usual on Monday.”
“Ah, okay. Denki! I will look for him then.” Getting out of the car, Wayne shut the door and went into his house, unaware that on Friday, his whole outlook would change.
CHAPTER FIVE
Driving their buggy home from the quilt shop, Lizzie and Leora chatted about their day of work. “How did you stay so patient with that tourist, Leora? I was biting my tongue, trying so hard not to scream at her!” Leora chuckled ruefully. “Mamm, it was hard! I was this close. . .” Leora demonstrated, with her finger and thumb nearly touching. “. . . to snapping at her.”
“Well, Annie was, too. By the time you wrapped that woman’s quilt up, she wanted to throw her out of the store. I was watching as I straightened all the inventory she was messing up. Ohh! I have to wonder just what her house looks like!”
Leora’s clear, high laugh rang out. “Oh, mamm! Just the mental image! I was never more grateful to see someone leave than I was to see her backside walking out the front door.”
Lizzie nudged Leora. “Shhh! I think that’s her over there! Quick. Don’t look at her. I don’t want her recognizing us.” Lizzie demonstrated by looking straight ahead at the road ahead of them.
Leora followed along. And, as they drew abreast of the nosy Englisher, she hid a grimace as the tourist did recognize them. “Ohhhh. . . “
“Hey! Excuse me! Yoo-hoo! Ladies!”
“Go faster! We need to get your daed’s supper on the table!”
Leora slapped the reins on the horses’ backs. “Go! Now!”
The horses responded by springing into a fast trot. Several hundred yards down the street, Leora swung the buggy right and disappeared down that road. “Mamm, look to see if she’s behind us, please. Daed wouldn’t like it if a tourist followed us home.”
Lizzie’s eyes rounded and she looked behind them. “Ohhh! No, I don’t believe it! She’s following us! Oh, heavens, take a detour!”
Leora swung down a narrow dirt road then, immediately after, took a left down a third road, hurrying the team along. The horses were nearly in a gallop as they hurried toward the main road. “Whoa, slow down!” She directed them to turn right, back on the main road as they entered the final part of their journey home. “Did we lose her?”
“I don’t know. . . I hope so. Just hurry. The sooner we’re home, the better.” Lizzie kept craning her neck back as she looked for the nosy tourist. “I don’t see her, but let’s hurry the horses into the barn.” Both she and Leora unhitched the horses, fed and brushed them and closed the barn door. As they hurried into the back yard, Lizzie clamped her hand on Leora’s arm. “Hurry! I see a car coming up the road!” Both women broke into a full-out run, trying not to be seen. Inside the house, she spoke quietly to Leora. “If she knocks, we’ll try to ignore her. But if she becomes too insistent. . .”
“Ooooh, I can’t believe the nerve of her. Coming to someone’s house. Just because she wants to learn what she has no business. . .” Leora’s mouth clamped shut as someone knocked on the door.
Both women backed up so they wouldn’t be visible from the entryway into the living room. “Let’s just quietly get things ready for supper. Maybe she’ll go away. . . oh, no, she’s not!” Lizzie’s ears had caught the sound of the woman trying to see if their door was locked. “That’s it. You stay here. When I open the front door, you make noise with the pots and pans.” Stalking to the door, she swung it open. “Yes?”
“Oh, hi! I just had a few questions about your life. . .”
“Why? Are you writing a book?”
The tourist paused, taken aback for a few seconds. Then, she laughed. “Oh. . . no! I’m just curious, that’s all!”
“Well, curiosity about the Amish is one thing. Snooping into our private lives and knocking on our front door is quite another. My daughter and I are getting ready to start supper. Now, if you don’t mind. . .” Lizzie started to shut the door, thankful that the screen was locked.
“But wait! Don’t your kind welcome our questions? I mean, it’s good for you and all. Good for you as a tourist kind of thing, right?”
Wayne came into the kitchen, where Leora was loudly putting pans down and stirring as she started the evening meal. “Daughter, what is going on?”
“We had a tourist in the store and she was just so. . . snoopy! Now, she’s at the front door, quizzing poor mamm.”
Wayne’s eyes widened. He didn’t like this. He hadn’t bargained for that when he had agreed that Lizzie needed to go back to work. Stalking into the living room, he joined Lizzie at the front door. “Lizzie, what is going on?”
“Husband, she won’t leave us alone. Annie had to make her leave the quilt store after she made her purchase. She spotted Leora and I as we were on our ride home. She followed us!”
Wayne kept a strong grip on his feelings. Turning to the Englisher, he looked at her with no smile on his face. “What do you want?”
“I. . . uhh, I just want to know more about your lifestyle, that’s all! Where I live we have no Amish living nearby. . .” The woman drew in more breath to speak, but Wayne beat her to the punch.
“Well, we live separately from Englishers like you for a reason. We want to keep our path to Gott as clear as possible. So we avoid temptations and technology that are common in your world. My wife and daughter didn’t appreciate having you follow them home. So now, I am telling you to leave. Go back to your motel or whereve
r you are staying and do not come back here again!” Restraining his voice and temper with difficulty, Wayne swung the door shut with his injured arm. He winced only a little as he felt a twinge run up his arm as he used it in a way he hadn’t been able to do in months.
“Well. . . but, I just. . . I’m just cur—” The rest of the woman’s response was cut off by the shutting of the door. She knocked frantically, trying to get Wayne to open the door once more.
“Ignore her. I’m going outside and I am going to escort her to her car. If I see anyone else who can help me, I will get their help.” Wayne hurried through the back door and to the front. “Ma’am! I was serious when I told you to leave! We aren’t a curiosity or tourist attraction for you to gawk and point at. We are humans, trying to live the lives that Gott has ordained for us. Now, I will walk you over to your car. . .”
By now, the nosy woman had had enough. Glaring at him through lashes thick with black mascara, she snorted. “Never mind! You are rude! All I wanted was to learn more about you, your kind and your lifestyle. But forget about it! You can bet that, when I get home, I am going to put the word out to anyone who’s thinking of coming here. This place isn’t worth the money we paid to travel to this god-forsaken place.”
“Wayne? Wayne! What is going on?”
Wayne looked up, never more grateful to see his neighbor than at that moment. “Deacon King! Ja, please. This woman followed Lizzie and Leora home from the quilt store. She knocked on our door and she wants to learn about our lifestyle, so she says. I told her why we don’t mingle with the English. I shut the door and she knocked again, so I came outside through the back and offered to escort her to her car.”
“Who are you?” This rude question came from the tourist. “My name is Sophie. And yes, he is rude. I am going to get online and tell all my friends about this.”
Amish Heart and Soul Page 3
