“What do you mean?” Hope asked.
“Well, now that the baby is here . . . and after all the damage the tornado did. We heard that it had destroyed everything that you and Simon had built. Certainly you won’t be going back now.”
“I never intended not to go back.”
“But my husband said he told you about getting you that job at the restaurant.”
“I’m not interested in that job.”
Thelma looked hurt and confused. “You would disobey the bishop’s counsel?”
Hope tried to put her feelings into words that would do the least damage. “Bishop Schrock is a good and wise man. He has been an excellent father-in-law, and I could not have asked for a better mother-in-law than you, but I have plans to turn my father’s old place into a productive farm. Logan has already put too much money into seed, equipment, and livestock for me to walk away now. I made a business deal. I gave him my word. It would not be honest or fair to suddenly stop working there.”
“You would honor an Englisch man’s financial concerns more than your own bishop’s counsel?”
“Of course not, but I cannot go back on my word.”
She could tell that the idea of having a different opinion than the bishop was mind-boggling to his wife. This, no doubt, had made the bishop’s life much easier.
“I—I should go.” Thelma handed the baby back to Hope and headed out the door as though frightened by their conversation.
“Wow,” Grace said, after Thelma had gone. “You are certainly brave.”
“Not brave,” Hope said. “A little rebellious? Probably. But not brave.”
Grace glanced at the clock. “I have a client coming in a few minutes, but I’d like to ask you something first. Do you mind if I get a little nosy?”
“After all you’ve done for me?” Hope said. “Of course not.”
“Sometimes where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Is there any chance you are interested in Logan Parker romantically? He’s a good-looking guy, and the way he looked at you when he was here makes me think he wishes he had the right to be Esther Rose’s daddy,” Grace said. “It worried me to see that, because I thought he had a wife back in New York.”
Hope knew that her cousin’s Englisch wife was not interested in gossip, but was truly concerned.
“Not a wife. A fiancée. He told me yesterday before the tornado came that they have broken up. He is in New York right now selling his apartment. When he comes back, he plans to stay here permanently.”
“That’s very interesting.” Grace busied herself putting away the cookies Thelma had brought. “So, how do you feel about him?”
Hope knew that Grace did not have the same mind-set as the people in her Amish church. She would not judge her harshly for having feelings for Logan. Because of that, she felt free to voice something that made her cheeks grow pink with embarrassment. “If Logan were Amish, I would not mind being courted by him.”
“Ah,” Grace said. “That’s what I was afraid of. Let me ask you this—have you ever considered jumping fence and becoming a Mennonite? Seems to me that might be the easiest solution for everyone.”
“I have given it some thought.”
“If I understand how things work around here, your Old Order Amish church would not shun you as long as you become part of another conservative, Anabaptist church. Right?”
“Sometimes I do wonder what it would be like to have more freedom,” Hope confessed. “But my family and church would be so very disappointed if I left.”
“My husband tells me that Logan is not a nonbeliever. He thinks that there are possibilities there. If both you and Logan were to join, say, Ivan’s church—wouldn’t that solve everything?”
Esther Rose opened her eyes, started to root around. Hope began to nurse her.
“I know that would seem like an easy solution to you, Grace. You were raised Englisch. You truly can’t understand what me jumping fence would do to my parents, my brothers, my sisters, and Titus’s parents. It would break their hearts.” She stroked the baby’s downy head. “And because it would break their hearts . . . it would break mine.”
• • •
“Instead of having dinner tonight”—his mother’s voice sounded strained over the phone—“could you meet me at St. Patrick’s in a few minutes?”
“Sure, Mom.” What an odd request. He glanced at his watch. It was only two o’clock in the afternoon. Normally she would be in her office. He’d never known her to go to the cathedral in the middle of a workday. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes, Logan.” There was a long silence. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard her crying. “Something is very, very wrong.”
“Where are you, Mom?”
“Already there.”
“I’m on my way.”
He didn’t bother to hail a cab. It was only a few blocks. He could get there quicker if he ran.
chapter TWENTY-SEVEN
It had been a long time since he’d walked up the steps of the famous cathedral. He had been little, and still holding his mother’s hand. Now he took them two at a time.
His mother was sitting in her usual pew. In the right corner, far back. Even though it had only been a few weeks since he’d last spent time with her, she seemed . . . smaller.
He slid in beside her, and grasped her hand. She gripped it hard.
“What’s wrong and why are we here?” he asked.
“I needed courage, and I needed you.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue.
“Are you ill?”
She nodded and his heart nearly stopped.
“How ill?”
Her eyes, when she turned to look at him, were not only red-rimmed from crying, they were haunted. “Less than a year.”
“Dear God!” His world collapsed. “No!”
“Cancer almost got me over thirty years ago, Logan, and I beat it. Now it’s come back.”
Then she dropped another bomb.
“I’ve had a good run. There’s little I wanted to do that I haven’t done. I can face death. It’s facing you that is going to be hard.”
His mind was whirling. “Courage to face me? I don’t understand.”
“Ever since I left the doctor’s office, there’s been only one thing on my mind . . . and that was you. I don’t know how long I have, and I need to tell you some very important things before I go.”
“Mom, if it’s about finances . . .”
She shook her head. Impatient. “You’ve had power of attorney for years. Everything is in order. I need to tell you about your father. And Logan? It is not going to be easy.”
It had been quiet and peaceful in the cathedral when he arrived, but a tour group had come in and their voices, under the circumstances, grated on Logan’s nerves. “Let’s go back to your apartment, Mom,” he said. “Please.”
“Perhaps that would be best.”
She walked to the sidewalk, then stopped and looked back at the massive building. “I’ve walked here at least once a week for most of my life. Now I think it would be best if you caught us a cab.”
• • •
There was an ebb and flow of mothers at Grace and Claire’s clinic and, two days after the birth of Esther Rose, a small crisis when four women arrived and gave birth within hours of one another. Levi brought in a cot and set it up for the fourth mother while Hope got ready to go.
“Thank you for everything,” she said to Claire on her way out the door. “And thank Grace for me. I know she’s a little busy right now.”
At that moment, they both stopped and listened to an angry wail as Grace ushered a newborn into the world. Another healthy set of lungs. All was well.
“I’ll come to check on you later today.” Claire turned and hurried toward the sound.
“Please take me to Logan’s,” Hope said as Levi helped bundle Esther Rose into the tiny car seat he’d placed in the back.
“I thought I was taking you to your mother’s.”
“Loga
n called Grace and said to tell me that I could stay at his house if I wanted to while he was gone. He said he would be gone a few days longer than he expected. I want to see what damage the tornado did and get Simon started on the repairs. He’s pretty good at what he’s doing, but I’d feel better if I could supervise a little at this stage.”
“And how are you going to do that so soon after giving birth?”
“The weather is nice. I will spend a great deal of time on the porch.”
“People will talk. They will expect you to go stay at your mother and father’s.”
“People always talk,” Hope said with exasperation. “My mother has her hands full taking care of both her family and mine right now. I’ll stay there until Logan gets back. The baby and I will rest better there than at my parents’ for now. Then I’ll make other arrangements.”
• • •
Logan brought the glass of ice water his mother had requested and handed it to her.
“Thank you, dear,” his mother said. “Would you mind if we went outside on the balcony while we talk?”
“Whatever you want,” he said.
After they were seated, with the panorama of the city from Deborah’s high-rise apartment laid out before them, she began.
“First of all, you must promise me something,” she said. “You must promise me that once I begin, you won’t interrupt and you won’t ask questions until I’m finished.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m afraid if you stop me, I won’t be able to start again. I have to take a run at this thing. When I’m finished, I’ll let the chips fall where they may.”
“I promise,” he said.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, and then began telling him a story that he suspected would probably change both of their lives.
“I was thirty years old,” his mother said. “That can be a hard year for a woman. It was also the year the doctors discovered cancer. My fiancé left me within hours after finding out. He was a man who couldn’t stomach sickness of any kind.”
“Was he my father?”
“Oh, heavens no. It’s much more complicated than that.”
“I’m a grown man, Mother.” He took her hand in his. “I don’t care who my father was. A married man maybe? A criminal? It’s all in the past . . .”
Then she started laughing, but her laughter was on the verge of hysteria. Soon the laughter turned to sobs. Finally, her sobs subsided and she wiped her eyes.
“I will probably end up in the hospital before this is over, Logan, but I’ve accepted the fact that what I’ve deserved for a long time is prison.”
“Mom . . .”
“Please, dear. Don’t interrupt. I have to tell this my way.”
It was so hard to see her like this, but he sat back and let her tell her story her way.
“The worst part about the cancer was that it was ovarian and when it was all over, I knew I would never be able to have children. I was an only child and I had always wanted children. When the surgery and chemo were completed, I was not in good shape physically or mentally. I craved sunshine and air, and so I rented a cheap beach house in Florida with my last bit of savings. I had the idea that watching the ocean would be peaceful and I thought it would help me heal.”
“Did it help?” he asked.
“Please don’t interrupt, Logan.” She took a sip of water. “It helped for a while, until I was treated to the sight of a large, happy family playing together on the beach.”
Far below, they heard the sound of an ambulance wailing. His mother waited for the sound to fade away before she continued.
“It was an isolated beach. They wanted privacy and so did I, but I became obsessed with watching them. I kept wondering how some people managed to have all the luck. The woman had so many lovely children, and I had nothing. I brooded on this, which was not a wise thing to do in my condition.
“The littlest boy caught my eye. He was a beautiful child, about three years old. They left an older brother in charge one day—a teenager. He soon grew bored with his job as babysitter. He kept swimming farther and farther out while keeping only half an eye on his brother. The little boy was so happy playing in the sand, he didn’t notice at first when his brother didn’t come back.”
“What happened? Did the brother drown?”
“That’s what I feared. I saw this child all alone on the beach, and I knew it was dangerous for a child that young to be left alone near water. So I walked down to where he was and simply sat down beside him. That was all I intended to do. Just watch after this sweet little boy until the family returned. He was hot and sweaty. I took his hat off and laid it on the beach. No one came. I had sat there for over an hour.
Logan wondered what this had to do with him and his father, and wished she would get to the point, but he didn’t interrupt. It was her story, and she needed to tell it the way she wanted.
“I should have called the police or the coast guard to hunt for the older brother. I should have done a lot of things. Instead, I decided the little boy had spent enough time in the sun and I took him indoors with me. A wind had begun to blow up by the time I picked him up and started carrying him, and I saw that it was erasing my footprints. It occurred to me that this was a good thing. When I got him back to the beach house, I fed him applesauce, which he gobbled up like a hungry little bird. I was entranced. He was so trusting, sweet, and innocent.”
Logan began to realize where this was going. For the first time in months, he found himself craving a drink.
“After he ate, he climbed up onto my lap and I rocked him to sleep. There is something magical about having a child lying, sleeping, in your arms. I studied his eyelashes, his tiny mouth, his eyebrows, the flush on his cheeks, and I fell in love. I had been through too much. I was weakened by my ordeal, both physically and mentally. Something snapped. I told myself that fate had given him to me to help heal the terrible hurt. It was a long time before I realized that I was not entirely sane for a while.”
The blare of a fire engine filtered through to his consciousness. Somewhere there was a fire. Somewhere down below people were going about their jobs. Somewhere there were people who were eating and sleeping and doing normal things. He longed to be normal, to go back to before this terrible day began. It occurred to him that “normal” was vastly underrated.
“The local police came to my door. They said two kids had gone missing. They said they’d found the youngest child’s hat at the edge of the water. They feared both had drowned. They wanted to know if I’d seen anything.
“The little boy was sleeping on my bed in the other room while I talked with them. I could have brought him out then and been a hero. Instead, I lied. I told them that I was still recuperating from chemo, had spent the day in bed, and had seen nothing. I was very apologetic. I was also very pale and thin, still wearing the turban women who are cancer victims sometimes do. I looked every bit like the sick woman I was. No one would have suspected me of being capable of anything like what I had done.”
Logan listened in horror. It was exactly what he had feared. She was describing a kidnapping.
“They thanked me and left. I knew the minute they were gone that I had crossed a line and that there was no turning back. I waited, but there was no follow-up. I watched the rest of the investigation from behind a drawn curtain. It didn’t take long. The family, in their terror over their two missing children, had walked up and down the beach, obliterating any footprints or possible clues. I watched the mother crying, and the father trying to comfort her—and I felt great sympathy for her because I knew exactly how she felt—I had been feeling the same kind of grief myself until this angel-child came into my life like a gift from God.
“As I said before, I was not entirely sane.
“The family left and did not come back. I stayed two more days, so that no one would get suspicious. The little boy did not cry at first. I had never seen a more contented child. I was fascinated with him. We played little
silly games all day long with me on the floor with him, stacking everything from canned goods to toilet paper. Someone had left a toy truck behind, and we played with it endlessly. I made a game, also, of cutting his hair. He’d worn his hair rather long for a little boy. Straight bangs across the forehead, and a straight cut at the earlobes. When I was finished he could have been a miniature Marine.”
Her voice, he noticed, had gotten singsong and had begun to sound as though it was coming from far away. It was almost as though she were describing someone other than herself doing these things.
“The one thing we did not do was go outside. The risk was too great. I left the blinds closed and we played together in a sort of twilight world.”
Who was the child? Was he the child?
“There did come a time when he began to cry. He spoke a different language than me, so it was impossible to communicate with him in words. He missed his mother and kept saying something that sounded like mem.
“In the middle of the second night, while he was deep asleep, I packed up the car and drove him to my mother’s home in New York City.”
“Please tell me this story has a happy ending, Mom,” he said. “Please tell me you regained your sanity and gave him back to his family.”
“Please be patient, Logan. I’ve waited a long, long time to tell you what happened. You see, I had graduated at the top of my class from Columbia law school, right before the surgery, and had gotten offers of three different jobs before I got sick. I figured that gaining employment from one of those offers was about the only real chance at a normal life I had.
“My mother was a painter. As you know, she was not a particularly good one. We had always lived a bohemian lifestyle and moved around a great deal when I was young. Like you, I never knew my father. I’ve often thought that her lifestyle is why I chose to study so hard, get good grades, and go into law. Nothing could have been more different from the way I had been raised.
“My mother was not happy with me showing up with a stolen child, but she did not want to see me go to prison. Her own past was not without legal blemishes. She preferred no one look into her life too closely, either. She was estranged from her family, and her few friends were not the kind of people who would find a child appearing out of nowhere particularly suspicious. Many of them were living in a sort of substance-abuse fog anyway. I had worked two part-time jobs to put myself through law school. Between studying, going to classes, and keeping myself afloat, I had not made any close friends. We made up a story about the child and people bought it.
Fearless Hope: A Novel Page 24
