A Simple Faith

by Rosalind Lauer

The accident was something that Ruben did not discuss with anyone, and he wasn’t going to change now and blather on to a total stranger.

  “Oh, that’s lovely,” Doris said as he began to wrap her smaller purchases in cloth and ribbon, the way he’d seen Elsie do. “But I have another question for you. Why is it that you don’t have a beard like the other Amish men we’ve seen driving their rigs?”

  “Because I’m not married.” He took out a bolt of the cheapest fabric and cut off a large piece of cloth—big enough to wrap the birdhouse. “A man starts to let his beard grow after he gets married.”

  “Oh, I see. Did you hear that, Meryl?” she called to another woman who had now moved on to the quilt section. “He’s not married.” She turned back to Ruben. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  He felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I hope I will soon.”

  Doris chuckled; it was the harsh caw of a cackling crow, but a merry laugh nonetheless. “I’ve given up hoping for that.”

  “Hope is a funny thing,” he said without looking up. “Just when you give up trying to catch it, it lands right in the palm of your hand.”

  Doris sighed. “That’s a beautiful saying.”

  He gave her the total for her purchase, and she wrote out a check in flowery handwriting. Another big sale. And five minutes later, when her sister purchased the quilt she’d been deliberating over, he saw that the sales total for the day was the highest since he’d started minding the shop on Monday.

  It was good knowing that Elsie’s family would keep getting the income they needed, especially with the hospital expenses for Thomas. And part of him was relieved that he hadn’t scared her customers away—being a man who was all thumbs and not too good with dainty things.

  Ya, they were going to need money for the hospital and doctors and now the funeral expenses, too. He’d heard that Caleb was working with Adam King, a good carpenter, to build his father a coffin. Maybe it was a way to save money, or maybe he just wanted to do one last thing for his dat. Ruben didn’t know for sure, but he knew that these were sad days for the Lapp family.

  He’d had a taste of that kind of sorrow himself, and he knew it was a hard boulder to move.

  Ruben was just finishing up with the last customers of the day, some ladies who’d come on a minibus, all of them with red hats, when the door bells jingled and in walked Elsie.

  Her skin was pale and ashen, her eyes shadowed with gray, and yet, to Ruben, she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

  He blinked. “I wasn’t expecting to see you at all today. Not here, at least. I thought I might stop over to your house when the shop closed, just to sit with you.”

  “I didn’t want to leave you carrying this load on your own. You’ve been so good and kind.” She went to the shelf of dolls, picked one up, then put it back absently. “But I wasn’t even sure you’d be here. Ira said he was sending someone to handle everything.”

  “Ya. He sent Zed over.” Ruben knew that Ira and Rose Miller had stepped in to run the Lapp household so that the family could be free for some quiet time together. “He helped sweep up and such, but I told him I knew the ropes, having managed the store for the past few days. I figured it was best that I stay on. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Mind? Oh, no, Ruben. I’m most grateful. And you did the right thing.” She pressed her fingertips to one temple. “At least, I think so. Some folks say we should have shut down. Do you think we should have closed the store out of respect to Dat?”

  “When a farmer dies, his family and friends have to keep the animals fed and the crops going,” Ruben pointed out. “The way I see it, you need to keep your family business going, too.”

  “I reckon. I wanted to ask Fanny but … it sort of slipped my mind.”

  She looked lost, like a kitten left out in the cold. The sight of Elsie in such sorrow tugged at something deep inside him. “I hope you don’t mind my saying it, but you don’t look so good. Your pretty eyes are sinking away, and your skin is pale as snow.”

  “I’m in a bad way.” She turned away from him and went to the window. The last light of day lingered, like a flame flickering in the wind. “I can’t sleep. I can barely eat. I can’t think right, and my mind keeps playing tricks on me.”

  “I could tell something was wrong.” He went around the counter but didn’t want to get too close. Elsie was so shaky; he thought she was likely to flee like a deer in the woods if he pressed her. “Did you talk to the bishop? Tell him what’s going on?”

  “I spoke with him yesterday, and he was right kind. He said he’d pray for me and told me to be strong. Told me to look to Gott for strength.”

  “Are you doing that, Elsie?”

  “I’m trying. Really I am. I reckon I’m just too weak, because I just can’t clear my mind. Every time I close my eyes, I see those lights coming toward us. Two angry eyes, with a big hunk of car behind them. Those lights keep me up at night, and when I do fall asleep, I see the headlights in my dreams.” She turned to him. “Don’t you see them, too?”

  “I never saw them that day. I was sleeping when the SUV hit us the first time.”

  “Oh.” Her voice fell as she looked down at the floor.

  “But you’re not alone in your worries,” he said. “I know how you’re feeling on account of something bad that happened when I was younger.”

  Her fingers smoothed over the edges of her apron as she paused. “The plow accident?”

  He didn’t think she would know about that. It had happened so long ago, when he was only six and Elsie was even younger, but of course everyone in Halfway would have heard about it. In their community, every story was shared, whether it was tragic or wondrous. “That’s right.”

  “What really happened there?” she asked.

  “The plow hit a bees’ nest,” he said, regret bitter on his tongue. For Ruben, the judgment had been harsh. Folks didn’t understand that his burly look and uneven gait were a result of the accident. While the Amish had plenty of compassion for the little people made by Gott, there was a stigma for other folks beyond the norm. Especially when folks thought an accident was your fault. That was the problem with an old bit of gossip. People only remembered the juicier parts.

  “When that happened, I couldn’t sleep. I thought I would never sleep again. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the accident happening all over again. The bees. Paul slapping at his arms, scratching them away.” The image still made his throat grow thick, but the panic wasn’t there. He had learned how to let the good things chip away at the bad. He had found protection in Gott’s loving arms.

  “Such a heartbreak.” Elsie’s cute lips puckered. “Whatever did you do to get that out of your mind?”

  “I prayed to Gott and …” Ruben faltered, at a loss for what to tell her. Although he knew that Elsie was a sweet girl with a good and kind heart, he couldn’t tell her about the angels. He’d never told anyone about them, and if word got out, he’d be the laughingstock of Halfway. Already he knew that tongues wagged about him, working in an easy business with his father. Once, at a singing, he’d heard someone call him “Fat Ruben” and “Lazy Man” behind his back. Talking about this would only make things worse.

  “But I’ve been praying,” Elsie said, tears shining in her eyes. “I know Gott is the only one with the power to help me. I’ll just have to pray some more and wait on the Heavenly Father.” Her words seemed far more hopeful than the mournful expression on her face.

  “Gott’s surely watching over you, Elsie. You know how the song goes. There are angels watching over us. They’re there all night and all day.”

  “That’s what I need. A guardian angel.”

  He thought of the folks who’d stopped into the store with messages of faith and hope for her. “So many folks have been in here to wish you well,” he said. “Preacher Dave and Nancy Briggs and Dr. Monroe.”

  “So many kind people.” She sniffed. “It makes me feel ashamed that I don’t appreciate their care
and kindness.”

  “You know, Dr. Monroe offered to give you counseling for free,” he said. “And me, too. He thinks that all the passengers in the van need some kind of counseling.”

  “He’s a nice man, but talking about it won’t help. I’ve talked and talked so much, my mind is full of that accident. The glass and that thundering noise. Those lights, coming right at us.”

  “Haley said that he helped her.”

  “Ya, she told me all about it. I’m glad for her, but … this is different.” She turned to the window and heaved a tender sigh. “The sunset. It always reminds me! Every day at this time, it happens all over again in my head. One minute the sky was washed with pink and purple, like one of Rachel’s paintings. The next thing, we were spinning and spinning round.…” She squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed into one hand.

  “Elsie …” He closed the distance between them and put his hands on her shoulders. Her body trembled beneath his touch, rocking with grief.

  How he longed to take her into his arms and hold her tight and share his angels with her. Surely Gott’s love would light the shadows in her heart.

  He squeezed her small shoulders, but he couldn’t allow himself any more than that soothing touch. It was not the way of Plain folk to hold a girl that way outside the bounds of courtship. If people saw them, they would jump to the wrong conclusion. They wouldn’t understand that Ruben shared her pain.

  “I can’t stop seeing it, Ruben. I can’t make it stop.”

  “I wish I could make it stop for you, Elsie.” He patted her back, floundering for a way to help her. “All I can tell you is to pray and think of Gott’s angels. You know they’re surrounding you with love right now.”

  “I don’t think so. I feel so … so alone.”

  “But the angels are here. Take a breath and try to picture them in your mind. Maybe one is your mamm, watching over you. You can see her if you try, Elsie. You know she would be here to take you in her arms if she could.”

  Elsie sniffed, opened her eyes, and looked around her. “I don’t see her.”

  “Then close your eyes and look in your mind, and a memory will come. A memory of your mamm cooking in the kitchen, or hanging the wash.”

  “Hanging the wash—I remember that. I always wanted to help her, but I was too short to reach the clothesline, so Mamm had me hand the clothes to her.”

  “Ya.”

  Elsie took a deep breath, the tension on her face softening. “Do you really think there are angels guarding us?”

  “I know there are.”

  “Do you think they can help me stop these terrible pictures in my head?”

  “I think it’s your faith in Gott that’s going to help you get over this,” he said. “Gott and His angels.”

  That night, as Elsie lay huddled under the covers in bed, she softened her gaze on the moonbeams at her window and retraced the steps she had taken with Ruben that evening. He had closed the store, his capable hands turning the lock. He had calmed her fears for the moment and made sure she got home safe and sound. Sitting in his buggy, Elsie had found herself studying the young man who had brought her so much comfort of late. Ruben Zook, once a prankster who never seemed to have a kind word, was becoming Elsie’s best friend. He’d been quick to lend a hand with the store. He’d given her a shoulder to cry on and so many kind words. He’d talked of Gott Almighty and His angels with the voice of a wise man.

  He was a wonderful good man, Ruben Zook. Which got her to wondering why she used to avoid him. Well, everyone steered clear of a prankster, and that had been Ruben. He used to be quick to spring a trick, always looking for the laugh, but at someone else’s expense.

  What had happened to the joker? It only showed that you never knew a person until you got a chance to peel through the outer layers, like an onion. Dat used to say that.

  Oh, Dat …

  Would this heavy weight of sorrow ever lift from her soul?

  Ruben had told her that it would. He had said that Gott’s angels were surrounding her, watching over her. She imagined them hovering in the moonbeams, shining silver like corn silk.

  Ruben’s angels.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, imagining a gentle hand on her forehead, pushing back her hair. And for the first time in many days, she fell into a restful sleep.

  24

  Although Haley’s stomach was in knots over the prospect of visiting an Amish house in the midst of a wake, her desire to support her new Amish friend helped her push past her nervousness as she parked her car opposite three buggies with their horses tied to a hitching post beside the front porch. Hers was the only car in sight, which meant she would probably be the only Englisher person here.

  You can do this, she thought as she got out of the car and tugged her jacket down over her slim black pencil skirt. You can do it for Elsie.

  The door was answered by an older woman who introduced herself as Rose. With a courteous nod, she invited Haley inside the house, and Haley was grateful to step in out of the cold. The circle of people talking quietly in the main room didn’t seem to notice Haley’s arrival, and she had a moment to get her bearings and take in the home.

  In the room off the kitchen, family and friends sat on rockers and benches near a potbellied stove. A handful of children sat at the kitchen table playing a card game.

  “Go fish!” Will announced jubilantly as Beth’s cards fluttered to the floor.

  “Oops!” She set her cloth doll on the table and climbed down to get the cards.

  There was a second room off the kitchen—a fairly empty room, but for a few rows of chairs facing a tall counter. Haley recognized Emma sitting in the front row. Then her gaze caught on the object all the chairs were facing.

  It wasn’t a counter; it was Thomas Lapp’s body, at rest in a wood coffin.

  Whoa. Dylan had warned her that the body was being waked right in the home. He’d explained that it was customary among some Old Order Amish. Still, it was a bit of a shock to see that in her friend’s living room. She turned away to study the rest of the house.

  A hutch in the corner held at least a dozen coffee cups hanging from hooks. The sofa in the living area was covered with a crocheted throw in vibrant shades of blue. Over the sofa was a clock with a calendar on either side. The only art on the walls were the calendars, one showing a mountain range, the other a rocky coastline.

  The older woman returned with a pretty brunette dressed in black, and Haley recognized Fanny. She was a picture of grace in a black dress that hung loose around her prominent belly. The dark fabric of her dress made her skin appear pale as bone china, stark, but pretty.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said. “It’s kind of you.” She took Haley’s hand and turned to the group. “If you didn’t meet her at the hospital, this is Haley Donovan, the Good Samaritan who stopped to help at the scene of the accident.”

  Haley felt her mouth drop open; she hadn’t expected this sort of attention.

  There were quiet murmurs of approval, and a few people came forward to tell her that they appreciated what she had done. She nodded, trying to appear friendly but really wanting nothing more than to escape to a quiet room to talk with Elsie.

  When a woman named Rebecca finished talking, Haley turned to Fanny. “How is Elsie doing?”

  “Mmm.” Fanny looked toward the kitchen door. “I sent Rose to find her for you. I don’t know why, but I think she’s out back.”

  “I’ll go look for her, if that’s okay.” When Fanny nodded, Haley headed out through the kitchen door, bracing against the cold once again.

  Dusk was falling, painting the sky with lavender, purple, and indigo. It was a sad sunset, Haley thought, but then maybe her view was colored by the sorrow that hung over this house right now.

  Crossing the side yard, she saw the dark profile of the old carriage house that Elsie had mentioned. Thomas and Caleb had been renovating it themselves, working to make a suitable space for some sort of repair shop.
/>   With Thomas’s death, their plans had been derailed.

  “Who’s that?” a frightened voice called.

  Haley turned to see a small form clinging to a post-and-rail fence. “Elsie? It’s me, Haley.”

  “Oh.”

  There was an awkward silence for a moment. Am I intruding? Haley wondered.

  “I can’t talk right now.” Elsie’s voice was flat and withdrawn.

  “Is this a bad time?” Haley peered into the gray dusk, trying to glimpse a clue that would help her understand Elsie’s mindset. “Wait. That’s a stupid question. I know it’s a terrible time, and I’m sorry for your loss.” She took a step closer, but Elsie turned away.

  “I’m sorry.” Elsie stood her ground. “Please, just go.”

  Suddenly, Haley felt awkward. She shouldn’t have come here. She didn’t belong here. Why had she thought that a few bonding moments in crisis could dissolve a cultural divide that had existed for generations?

  She turned away and headed back, her boots clunky on the frozen earth. The light of the kitchen loomed closer, and she turned and circled round the back of the house. With this knot in her throat, she couldn’t bear to make nice with the visitors in the house.

  It was time to get in the car and get out of here.

  Her hands were cold, and tears were beginning to sting in her eyes as she reached into her coat pockets and fumbled for the keys.

  Why had she locked it? You big dummy. The last place her car was going to be stolen was outside an Amish home in Lancaster County.

  At last, she ripped the door open, slid into the driver’s seat, and slammed the door. She gathered the keys and jammed one into the ignition. But when she turned the key, the engine didn’t rumble to life.

  There was just a choking sound, then quiet.

  Have the mechanic check your battery, her father had warned her. If it’s low, this cold weather will make it die.

  The swell of pain inside her rose up and splashed over all her intentions. Pain gave voice to doubt. Doubt to malice.

  You’re hardly a hero.

  Think you’ll make it through nursing school?