A Simple Faith

by Rosalind Lauer

  “That’s a good lesson.” With a tender smile, Elsie brought the warm mug of cocoa over to them. “But it might be a little early for Tom, being just a few hours old.”

  “It’s never too early to learn Gott’s goodness.” Ruben spoke directly to the sleeping baby. “Am I right?”

  Tom simply turned his head and nuzzled his little nose into the soft blanket.

  Every little movement the baby made stole Elsie’s breath away. She put the mug down and held her arms out. “I’ll take him while you drink your hot chocolate.”

  “Back to Elsie you go,” Ruben told the sleeping baby.

  As she dipped her hands into the warm crook of his arms, her skin tingled from brushing against his sleeves. Such a wild, warm sensation! It happened every time he touched her.

  Suddenly warm and content, she settled onto the sofa across from Ruben and thought what a pretty picture they made, the three of them warming together by the stove. Soft light playing on Ruben’s face. His words falling over her like gentle snowflakes.

  The only thing that could have made things more perfect would have been if the baby were theirs.

  41

  The glow that surrounded Elsie tonight, like an angel’s halo, was an answer to Ruben’s prayers. Every night, he’d been getting down on his knees, praying that Gott would give him the words to convince her that she had made the wrong decision, that she had to give him a chance to be in her life, beside her, forever and for always.

  The need to persuade her had consumed him for most of the week, distracting him when customers were telling him stories or during those stretches when he was alone in his buggy, letting his horse take him down the open road.

  It wasn’t the sort of thing he could bring up at home with any of his brothers, who would laugh at him or tease him for liking a girl. And he’d thought about telling Amos at church last week, but the young man who shared his place on the outside of the Amish youth group had been sick with the flu.

  Oddly, the only person Ruben had been able to talk with was the last person Elsie would want him spilling the beans to. But Preacher Dave was the easiest member of the clergy to talk with. He wasn’t so quick to pass judgment like the bishop. Besides that, he was Ruben’s uncle, so Dave and his family were often over at the house, visiting.

  And Friday night, when Dave had stopped over to drop off a rug Lydia had hooked for the auction, he got to teasing Ruben.

  “This auction is a good-size event for a fella like yourself to be managing,” Dave said. “Pretty soon you’ll figure out that it takes two to pull things like this together. For a charity like this, you need a wife.”

  “Lots of folks are chipping in for James,” Ruben said. “But what makes you think there isn’t a young woman working with me?”

  “Oops!” Dave clapped him on the back. “I guess I spoke too soon. So you have been courting a girl?”

  Ruben shrugged, thinking that maybe he shouldn’t have spoken up. He wasn’t really ready to talk about Elsie, but with the pressure on him to find a suitable Amish girl to marry, he thought that talk of a girlfriend might take some of the heat off. “I’m working on it.”

  Dave leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “It shouldn’t be so much work. Have you been to visit her?”

  “Ya. And I see a lot of her.” Ruben didn’t want Dave to know it was Elsie he was talking about. Not yet. “But there’s a twist in the road between us.”

  “What’s that?”

  “She doesn’t want to marry. Ever.”

  “Not ever?” Dave stroked his beard. “Is this an Amish girl?”

  “Ya. She’s lived Plain all her life.”

  “Then she’ll change her mind.” Dave nodded knowingly as he straightened up. “All Amish girls do.”

  “I don’t know. She’s different from most girls.”

  “Every young man feels that way when he’s falling in love. But any road worth taking has its challenges. Don’t give up on her because it’s not easy. You can tell when you’re on the right track even if it’s going uphill.”

  Giving up on Elsie was out of the question, but now, sitting across from her as she held little Tom close to her heart, he could see that Gott had given her a change of heart. She loved this baby. Watching her, Ruben had no doubt that she would be a wonderful mother. Motherhood was what Gott intended for her, and now it seemed that she was beginning to see that.

  “That’s good cocoa,” he said, holding the mug in one hand. “It warms from the inside.”

  “I reckon you need it, traveling here through all that snow. Did you put your horse in the carriage house?”

  “I left him in there to get him out of the snow. It’s only about a foot high, but the drifts—you don’t know what you’re stepping into under those snow mounds.”

  “Well, it was brave and kind of you to make the trip, but I don’t want to mislead you, Ruben. You know I can’t court you.”

  “Whoa.” He held up one hand to stop her and made a gesture to pretend that he was sewing his mouth shut. “Here we are, sitting by a warm fire with a newborn miracle. Snow is falling past the window, but we’re cozy in here. Why would you want to go and ruin it all by saying something like that?”

  There was a mixture of amusement and regret in her eyes. “Because it’s true. There’s a special place for you in my heart. There always will be.”

  He wanted her to stop there so that he could bask in her words like a dog in a pool of sunshine. There was a place in her heart for him. He wasn’t alone in this love.

  “But we can’t court like other Amish couples because …” She turned away. “Because I’m not normal.”

  “Ach, there you go again with silly talk. Do you think I haven’t noticed that you’re a little person? I know it, Elsie, and I love the Gott who made you in a different mold from other Amish girls.” He shifted in the rocking chair, letting his long legs stretch out before him. Since the accident on the plow, one was shorter than the other.

  “I don’t mean to spoil anything, so I’ll toss my words out into the snow if you agree to keep this a social call and not a courtship.”

  “Mmm. I shined the light on your bedroom window first. I didn’t figure you’d still be down here so late.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I’m just so relieved that Fanny is all right, and so excited to have a new baby in the house. It’s a new life, Ruben.”

  “My mamm used to say that every baby is a miracle, and no one was more excited than her when there was a new baby in the house.”

  “She was right.” Elsie shifted the baby so that he rested firmly on her legs, facing her. “Do you still miss her, Ruben?”

  “I do.” Kate Zook had died of cancer when Ruben was fifteen. “It’s been five years, and sometimes I still think I hear her voice calling me from the kitchen, or I come home expecting to smell the peanut butter cookies she baked for us.”

  “The same thing happens to me with Dat. I think I hear his footsteps down here, first thing in the morning, to start the fire, but it turns out to be Caleb. Or sometimes at the store, when the door bells jingle, I think it’s Dat dropping in to check on things.”

  “I think he’d be mighty satisfied with the way things are going in the Country Store,” Ruben said.

  “I hope so.”

  The gleam in her eyes, the light of grace and peace, reminded him of one of his mamm’s expressions. Maybe that was one of the reasons he wanted to be near her. “Seeing you sitting there with Tom in your lap reminds me of my mamm. She was the light in our house. Sunshine and light. Like you, she always saw the good side of things. The good in people. The good in her children. After the accident on the plow, people didn’t think I’d ever get back to normal. Some of them gave up on me, but Mamm, she was always there, always with a smile and a peanut butter cookie.”

  “I’d better figure out a recipe for peanut butter cookies,” she teased.

  A smile welled up from deep inside Ruben. She did love him. She didn’t
want to say the word because she was afraid of what it might mean down the road, but in her heart, she knew it was true.

  She loved him, and oh, he loved every little thing about her.

  He put his mug down. “Look at you, so happy with this baby in your arms. Doesn’t it feel right? The way he fits in the bend of your arm. The wonders of hearing him breathe or watching his little mouth twitch while he’s sleeping. Doesn’t this tell you what Gott wants for you, Elsie? You’re meant to have a family. A baby in your arms. Little ones tugging on your skirts.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, as he lowered his voice. “A husband who loves you.”

  Her eyes opened, round as quarters. “Now who’s the one who should be sewing the mouth closed?” Despite her teasing tone, he could see the flicker of longing in her eyes.

  Elsie, darling, why can’t you see what’s best for us both?

  The clock struck one A.M. “I’d better get going, or else I’ll turn into a snowman.”

  “We can’t let that happen,” she said in a teasing voice as he rose.

  Ruben was wondering if it would be wise to swoop down for a kiss when he remembered the auction. “Ach! I almost forgot. I’ve got a small gift for you.” He went to the mud porch and retrieved the satchel he had carried inside his coat, to keep it dry.

  Back inside, he held the satchel to his chest as he took a seat beside Elsie and the baby on the couch. “At the auction today, I got a gift for you.”

  When he removed the wooden box, she gasped.

  “Ruben! How did you get that? They told me it was sold to make money for James.”

  “It was. The money went to the Lapps.”

  “But how?”

  “That nice customer from the Country Store, Gwen Slavin, she bought it. But she was acting as an agent for me. Dat wanted to give a good donation to the Lapps, but, well, he wanted to be anonymous, knowing how some folks feel about his leasing out his land.”

  When Joe Zook had decided to lease his share of the family land out and give up farming, some people in the community had been disgruntled. By tradition, the Amish had farmed any land they could get access to. Some people thought it was wrong for an Amish man to make a deliberate choice to separate from the land and start a business.

  “Oh, Ruben.” She handed him the baby so that she could hold the box in her lap. Her eyes glistened as she ran her hands over the smooth wood painted with red borders and decorative cherries. She turned the latch and opened it.

  “From Grandmother Elizabeth Lapp to Sammy Lapp,” she said, reading the message stenciled on the inside lid of the box. “I can still see Dat showing it to us when we were children. He would always throw in a story about his father or his grandparents. I know it’s a material thing, just a wooden box, but it’s special because it’s been in the Lapp family for so many years.”

  “I know that. That’s why I wanted to buy it back for you.”

  “It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” She shook her head. “I still can’t get over it. But I don’t think it would be right for me to accept it, especially coming from you.”

  Ruben squinted, not sure what she was driving at.

  “I mean …” She cocked her head to one side, her voice going so soft, he could barely hear. “Is it an engagement gift?”

  “No. I wasn’t thinking that.” Although he would be walking on air to know that he and Elsie were committed to each other, it was too soon to press for that. Especially since she wasn’t even baptized yet. “It’s a gift, plain and simple.” Tom gave a squeak as he squirmed in Ruben’s arms. “Right, Liewi?” he asked, calling the baby by the name his mother had used for her children. Darling.

  Elsie put the box aside, watching as Ruben shushed Tom back to sleep.

  “For a man, you’re good with babies,” she said.

  “That’s what happens when you have little ones underfoot.” His father and Mary had added three to the family in as many years, and Ruben liked the noise and contentment of young children.

  With Tom settled again, he passed the delicate bundle back to Elsie, and then rose. It was hard to leave them, especially for a trek through the snow. But someday, Gott willing, he would spend every night with Elsie Lapp.

  “Good night, liewi,” he said.

  Good night, darling.

  As he pulled on his outerwear in the mudroom, he hoped that Elsie knew that his farewell was meant for her.

  42

  Although Dylan had been inviting her to join them since the accident occurred, Graciana Estevez didn’t finally agree to attend the Halfway group therapy session until the second week of March. As the regulars trickled into the back room of the library, Dylan had asked the group to make Graciana feel welcome, but he knew that was an unnecessary request. Support and kindness swept through this group like a wildfire in the forest.

  If she was intent on healing, Graciana had come to the right place.

  Already Rachel had made sure that the older woman tried some of the snickerdoodles she had brought. Ruben had told her about the charity auction for James. George had told a joke about the origin of the word “snickerdoodle,” and Haley had explained the nursing program at LanCo General. Even the usually reserved Zed had stepped up for a few words about the weather.

  This was a very functional group. Dylan would have been proud, if he thought he had earned any of the credit. In essence, he’d deduced that the Amish made excellent patients.

  After Dylan’s brief introduction and welcome to Graciana, Rachel started off the meeting with her “good news” report.

  “Last week I picked up my paintbrush again, and I’m painting.” Rachel’s index finger drew tiny loops on the table as she spoke. “Fast and wild. I guess all the ideas that I was saving in my mind are eager to fly out.”

  “That’s wonderful good.” Elsie’s smile was encouraging. “When do you find the time, with your chores and visiting James?”

  “I decided not to visit James so much anymore. He needs some time to recuperate, and I’ve got to give it to him.” She turned to Dylan, her eyes clear with resolve. “I fought that. I didn’t want to stay away. But now I’ve learned to accept the things I can’t change.”

  Dylan nodded his approval, glad that she had embraced a difficult life lesson.

  “Will you be sending the paintings to the gallery in Philadelphia?” Elsie asked. Then she explained to the group that a dealer in the city had offered to represent Rachel.

  “That’s my plan for now,” Rachel said. “Claudia Stein, that’s the dealer, she thinks my paintings will fetch a very good price.”

  “The one you donated for the auction brought in a lot of money,” Ruben pointed out.

  “If everything works out, if the paintings do sell, I’m hoping that I might eventually make enough to live on. If I can do that, if I can save some money, I’d like to move to a house in town. The chores of the farm are too distracting for me, and I never was one for milking the cows and mucking the stalls. A house in Halfway would be very nice.”

  “That is good news.” Dylan felt grateful to Rachel for starting them off on a positive note. “Who else wants to share?”

  “There’s baby Tom, born on Saturday.” Elsie positively glowed, as if he were her own newborn. “Most everyone here has heard the news, but I’m bursting with happiness over the change in our house. Mother and baby are both doing fine. Fanny had high blood pressure when she was pregnant, but that’s gone now, so that worry is over. Gott has truly blessed us.”

  “Congratulations.” It was one of the first times Dylan had seen smiles from everyone in the group. Even Graciana, who had joined them today with a heavy heart, managed a wistful smile. “There’s nothing like a newborn baby to remind us what really matters, is there?”

  Elsie nodded. “We take turns holding him and rocking him. There’s something wonderful about being needed. Even the little ones enjoy caring for him. Beth is learning how to change diapers.”

  At that, Graciana winced, bl
inking back tears. Dylan turned to her, his voice gentle. “Graciana, does it bring back memories for you?”

  “When Clara was a baby …” She nodded, swiping one hand over her eyes. “She was my only one.”

  Haley pushed the box of tissues across the table to her.

  “Please, don’t be offended by my tears,” Graciana told Elsie. “I’m truly happy for you, and I wish your family many blessings.”

  “It’s okay to cry.” Elsie reached across the table and touched her arm. “We’ve learned that here.”

  “I guess I’m a little late to the game.” Graciana pressed a tissue to her eyes, and then took a deep, calming breath. “You might be wondering why I’m here, since I wasn’t even close to the scene of the accident. I wasn’t, but my daughter caused it.”

  She pressed two fingers to her forehead, taking another pronounced breath. “It’s unforgivable, what she did. I’m angry with her, blazing mad, and at the same time I wish I could give her a big hug and smell the shampoo in her hair and remind her to go take her senior photos for graduation. I want to ask her what she was doing that day on that highway so far from our home, when it was strictly forbidden. What was she doing texting on her phone when it was supposed to be put away in her purse until she turned off the car?

  “These are all questions I have for my daughter. Things I want to ask her. But my Clara can’t answer, because she’s never coming home again. My Clara is gone. Forever. And this is one mistake her mom can’t undo for her.”

  “Your anger is certainly justified,” Dylan said. “I’m wondering if you would feel differently if you learned that the accident was caused by something beyond Clara’s control. Say that the brakes failed, or there was ice on the road. Would you blame Clara then?”

  Graciana’s lips puckered as she considered the question. “I guess I wouldn’t. No.”

  “But the tragic circumstances would remain. Clara would be gone. One person dead in George’s van. Two seriously injured. You would be grieving the loss of your daughter and the other injuries caused by the crash. Can you separate your anger and simply allow yourself to grieve?”