A Season of Change

by Lynette Sowell

  He hurried along the sidewalk and headed toward the Bahia Vista traffic light

  “Hello, Jacob Miller!” Henry Hostetler waved as he approached, bicycling across the street. “How’s Rebecca doing today?”

  “Much better than yesterday.” Jacob glimpsed Betsy hurrying to meet some of her friends near Big Olaf’s ice cream shop. They circled around Betsy like a flock of birds with their varying colors of dresses and white head coverings. A few of them glanced his way. Just what he didn’t need right now. Giggles drifted in his direction on the balmy air.

  “That’s good news, Jacob.” Henry stopped his tricycle and adjusted his dark round hat. “We’ve been praying for her. I suppose you’ll be heading back to the hospital later?”

  “Yes, I am.” This time he wouldn’t go alone. If Betsy were to happen back to the hospital, he wouldn’t face her by himself. Also, if Natalie Bennett came back, too, in her pink pants with hems skimming her shins, and her long hair swishing as she talked.

  Like the women of his Order, Natalie Bennett wore her hair long, but unlike the women in his Order, she wore it down, the walnut-colored strands of silk flowing past her shoulders. Rebecca’s face glowed when Natalie had entered the room. Miss Bennett. He reminded himself of her proper name. Even Bubbles the Clown would do.

  In his imagination, Natalie’s dark hair transformed into Hannah’s locks of burnished gold. Every night, the only time Hannah wore her hair down, she would brush her hair by the glow of the lamp. Jacob would sit reading his Bible in bed, but the rhythmic movements of Hannah’s hand and the hairbrush kept drawing his attention from the pages.

  So beautiful. The gold blended back into brown.

  This was why he should have never come to Florida. The past and present jumbled together in his brain like the eggs Maami scrambled for breakfast and served with freshly fried thick slices of bacon, fried potatoes, and buttered wheat toast.

  “You okay, Jacob?” Henry’s voice jerked Jacob from his thoughts.

  Jacob nodded. “Things aren’t working out as I planned. We were only supposed to be here for two weeks. I have a job I must get back to.”

  “Ah, that’s very true.” Henry shifted on the tricycle seat and squinted across the street at a neat row of cottages. “Life seldom unfolds as we think it will. Even living so simply, troubles bore their way into the sturdy planks of our plans. But God in His wisdom has our interests in mind, far better than we could contrive on our own.”

  Jacob shivered at the sudden turn of the breeze. “I wish I knew why. I wish I could accept and understand at the same time.” Losing Hannah and Samuel. And now the sweetest child with her mother’s spirit lay miles and miles away from them, in a room among strangers. The only reason he’d left her was to return to the village to speak to someone about a job.

  “Sometimes, we don’t.” Henry shook his head. “No, many times we don’t.” Of course, Henry spoke truth from his own life, widowed nearly twenty years, his children grown and living in Indiana.

  “I . . . I realized I don’t want to be alone, Henry.”

  “Like me, you mean?” Henry chuckled. “Oh, in all these years after losing Mabel, I may have felt alone during some dark times. But truthfully, I’ve never been alone. I’ve found joy and purpose, and community here.”

  Jacob nodded. “Daadi said you have a gut life here.” But that’s not what he wanted. Not in the least. He couldn’t accept the being alone part. Giggles from the girls outside the ice cream shop rang off the walls of the shop.

  “Listen to me, now.” Henry’s hand on his shoulder felt warm. “You’re still young. Your children are still young and not a couple years from leaving the house, as mine were when Mabel’s days were finished. I know there’s a fine future ahead of you, Jacob Miller. Keep your eyes open and be ready. It might just surprise you.”

  “I’ll try to do that, Henry.”

  “And now, I must be off. Time for shuffleboard. Josiah Fry says he can best me. Ha, ha, I don’t think so.” Henry rang the bell on his tricycle as he pushed off along the street and resumed his journey, headed in the direction of Pinecraft Park.

  Jacob trudged along to his grandparents’ house. He should have asked Henry about a job. The man wasn’t quite as old as his grandparents and still worked around Sarasota, doing maintenance and home repairs, along with light construction. Jacob stopped at the neat little house that his grandparents owned, a simple white clapboard cottage with four rooms, each divided evenly with the back two rooms donating some of their space to the bathroom.

  Forget his troubles in Florida, Ephraim had told him. Enjoy a few moments with his children away from everyday life. A flash of pink caught his eye, flamingo pink. The same pink as Natalie’s pants. Of course it wouldn’t be her. It was a local Mennonite girl’s pink dress. He would never get used to the colors used with abandon here in Sarasota.

  Pinecraft was supposed to be the Plain people’s refuge from the world. Jacob sighed as he headed up the walk to the house. Even this refuge had distractions. He wanted to be on the farm in Ohio. He didn’t care if there was a foot of snow on the ground. Just to be back, among all that he knew. Maybe now he could fight the pain of memories.

  Gotte, please help me. I can’t do this. Where can I go for some peace? This storm has raged far too long.

  He didn’t feel or sense any response. No answers from above, and nothing but questions rolling through his mind like the endless waves along the shore he wished he’d never seen.

  4

  I’m thinking about staying in Pinecraft when my parents leave,” Betsy Yoder announced. Maybe it wasn’t wise to voice her thoughts just now, but surrounded by her friends in the happy atmosphere of Pinecraft Park’s sandy volleyball court, the words came right out.

  She waited for her friends’ reactions. Miriam dropped the volleyball in mid-serve.

  “No, you can’t be serious. Staying here, with all the old people?” Miriam raised her hands, as if in surrender. “What can you be thinking?”

  The others flocked around her, murmuring similar sentiments. Florida in the winter was an exciting diversion from what waited back in Ohio. The young women had the chance to soak up sunshine in wintertime and let the scent of Hawaiian Tropic fill the air. They wore flip-flops, suntan lotion, and enjoyed many modern conveniences not exactly allowed back home.

  “I need a change.” She picked up the ball that Miriam had dropped. How could she tell them something she couldn’t explain herself, completely?

  “But you’re twenty, not eighty.”

  “I know.”

  “I’d stay, if it wasn’t for someone at home,” interjected Betsy’s youngest sister, Emma.

  “Who? Who? Do tell us.” Miriam practically pounced on Emma’s statement.

  “Eli Troyer. He would have come, but he decided to stay and do extra work, and save the money.” Emma tossed them a knowing look. A few of the girls squealed. And Betsy tried not to sigh.

  Emma, pulling the conversation to herself, as usual. The others would quit bothering her about staying in Pinecraft. This was a gut thing.

  “Still, though, this place shuts down in the summer. Nobody’s around. Nobody except old people,” said Miriam, waving her arms. A few of the older folks over at the shuffleboard court glanced in their direction. Some laughed and shook their heads.

  “And newlyweds,” Emma added with a grin. No doubt she’d already considered that possibility for herself. And Eli. Why else would he stay in Ohio, but to work and save money to buy them a house?

  “There are younger families who live here, not just older people. Plenty of people live here year-round. Sarasota is a good-sized city,” Betsy said. She knew she’d encounter disbelief from her friends at her idea, but not the outright opposition.

  “But what would you do?” Miriam asked.

  “Clean houses. My Aenti Chelle says I can make several hundred dollars a week, easily. The Englisch pay Amish housekeepers very well.”

  “What did your pa
rents say?”

  “I haven’t told them yet. Or, asked them, rather.”

  “Then nothing’s settled,” Miriam said. “Besides, hasn’t Gideon Stoltzfus been walking you home from the singings? You wouldn’t return to Ohio, even for him?”

  “Yes, he walked me home. Once.” Betsy nibbled her lower lip. “But it won’t happen again. I can’t go back to Ohio for him.” She didn’t want to admit to any of them why she’d concocted the idea to stay in Pinecraft. Yes, the Millers were staying in Florida after the horrible accident. They had to. No one knew when Rebecca would be well enough to make the hundreds of miles trip in a hired vehicle, let alone the confines of a Pioneer Trails charter bus.

  The idea of returning to Ohio and not seeing Jacob and the children, well, she couldn’t bear that. She hadn’t confessed it to anyone, not even Miriam, her dearest friend. Miriam might understand; she and Isaac Troyer, Eli’s brother, were inseparable and likely would be wed next winter.

  Yet Jacob Miller was different. Older than her, settled, and experienced. He was a man in the eyes of the elders. Maybe if she stayed here, in Pinecraft, Jacob would notice her for more than her delicious pies.

  “So, when will it be your turn to be a newlywed, Emma Yoder?” someone in their circle asked.

  This time, Betsy did sigh. Enough. Her mind was made up. If others thought her youngest sister was marrying before her, well, that only added to the urgency of what should come next.

  Natalie’s pores didn’t care much for the clown makeup, not when the mercury rose to 86 degrees on January third. Yet another reason she loved Florida in the winter, so she wasn’t about to complain. This trip to the hospital, though, she waited until she arrived to apply her makeup in the ladies’ room instead of making the trip in full Bubbles makeup.

  She was ready to visit the children’s wing, especially to see Rebecca Miller and little Zeke with his mouse-eyes. What brave children. Kids were resilient and often braver than their parents, Natalie had discovered. She found it easier to focus on the children instead of the parents when facing illness head-on.

  Natalie skittered to a stop when she entered Rebecca’s room. The blankets on the bed were thrown back, the room vacant. Natalie went to the desk.

  Fran was off duty and her seat was filled by the day nurse, Brenda. “Where’s Rebecca Miller?”

  “Outside, in the courtyard with her family, getting some sun,” replied Brenda with a toss of her head. “I don’t blame them one bit. It’s better than the two days of rain we just had.”

  Natalie nodded. “Thanks.” She headed for the children’s courtyard before she lost her nerve. A shyness crept over her in spite of her clown makeup when faced with encountering the Amish family. Children were children, but the adults . . .

  She’d read up on the Amish and knew they didn’t use modern conveniences like electricity and gas-powered vehicles and technology, although she’d heard of exceptions here in Sarasota. They dressed Plain, especially the women. She’d seen the other young woman stare at her pink capris the other day.

  Natalie found her way to the courtyard, where laughter echoed off the walls. She forced her legs to move in the Plain family’s direction. Little Zeke was hunched over, palms on his knees, as he studied the koi in the pond.

  “No, those wouldn’t make a very gut supper,” she heard a warm tenor voice say. Jacob Miller.

  “I want to eat some alligator, Daed,” said Zeke.

  Jacob swung to face Natalie. “So the clown has found us outside.” This time the older couple was with him, and the other man she figured to be his brother along with his friendly sister-in-law.

  She gave them her exaggerated nod, wide smile with her lips sealed, and waved. “I wonder how Miss Rebecca is doing today. Better, I hope?”

  “Much better,” said the little girl. “I’ve been practicing my juggling too, with the balls you gave me.”

  “Have you, now?” Natalie pulled out a trio of oranges from her bag, then started moving the three pieces of fruit in a circle above her head. “I suppose this doesn’t impress you, then?”

  “I keep dropping one,” said Rebecca. “I did try juggling my fork and spoon.”

  “Once,” echoed Jacob, giving her a hint of a smile.

  “How ‘bout a knock-knock joke?” Natalie ventured. Did Amish know about knock-knock jokes? She was about to find out. “Knock knock.”

  Rebecca gave her father a questioning glance. “Say ‘Who’s there?’” he whispered.

  “Who’s there?”

  “Banana.”

  “Banana who?” whispered Jacob in Rebecca’s ear.

  “Banana who?” Rebecca parroted as Natalie kept up the juggle.

  “Knock-knock.” Even Natalie chuckled, though she’d told the joke hundreds of times.

  “Who is it?”

  “Banana.”

  “Banana who?”

  They repeated it again, and Natalie grinned. The goofier the joke, the more a younger one loved it.

  “Knock-knock.”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Orange.”

  “Orange who?”

  “Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?” Natalie ended her juggle and gave Rebecca one of the oranges with a bow.

  Rebecca clutched the orange, her confused expression replaced with a laugh and a smile. “Orange you . . . aren’t you. That’s funny.”

  “Do you like balloons? I can make a balloon animal for you. What’s your favorite?”

  “A kitten.” Rebecca frowned at her orange. “We have barn cats at home, but Daed says no cats in the house.”

  “Well, the cats probably help by keeping the mice outside.” Natalie glanced at Jacob as she opened her tote bag. She could make a simple black-and-white cat, or an orange tabby.

  “Miss Bennett is right,” Jacob said. “The cats are workers, not pets.”

  He remembers my name.

  She felt as if she stood before the family, no clown makeup, and her Bubbles persona had somehow slipped. “Do . . . do you want an orange cat or a black-and-white?”

  “Orange.”

  “You got it.” Natalie blew up the slim long orange balloons, then started twisting them. Zeke moved closer. Of course, she wouldn’t forget him.

  “And you, Mr. Zeke, be thinking about what you want me to make for you.”

  Zeke nodded, his eyes focused on her hands, wrangling the pliable balloon into the shape of a cat’s body. Then some legs and a perky tail came next.

  “Can you make a blue fish?” The question came out softly.

  “I can certainly make you a blue fish.” The expression on his face plucked at the strings of her heart. Another family passed them, hovering around a young girl in a wheelchair, her head bald.

  The Millers weren’t the only family she should spend time with. The adults talked quietly among themselves, Natalie picking up an occasional word in German, or whatever dialect they used.

  The oldest Miller woman had warm blue eyes in a wrinkled face, her gray hair caught back neatly and covered with a white bonnet. Her cape dress of navy blue almost had a formal air about it, as did her white apron that covered her dark dress.

  Ask her. But Natalie’s fingers trembled as she fashioned the kitten’s whiskers. Surely, they would help her learn more about Katie Yoder who became Kat Bennett. As in, find her family. Yoder, she knew, was a common enough name, almost like Smith or Jones. And how many Katies could there be?

  But then, she had no right to ask them anything. This was only the third time they’d encountered each other, the longest period of time she’d spent with them. Don’t get too attached to the families you visit, she reminded herself. They passed through the hospital doors, all with their own stories, some with happy endings and others not-so-happy.

  “Here you are, one orange kitten.” Natalie handed the balloon figure to Rebecca. “Now for the blue fish.” She felt the other family’s eyes on her and heard excited whispers about “animals.”

  “I’
m going home soon,” Rebecca announced.

  “Now, the doctor hasn’t said for certain yet,” Jacob said. He glanced at Natalie. “We’re also getting a hospital bed for the house.”

  “I know you’ll be excited to be home again.”

  “Well, my mammi’s home. My real home is in Ohio.”

  “Ah, I see.” She paused and blew up a pair of aqua-colored skinny balloons.

  “We were only here for Christmas vacation, and then I ruined Christmas for everyone.” Rebecca’s eyes pooled with tears.

  “Hush, no, you did not,” spoke the older woman. “We were together and God watched over you for us. For that, we had a thankful Christmas.”

  Such grace in the face of tragedy. “Well, I am thankful to have met you all,” Natalie ventured as she formed half a balloon into a fin. She forced herself to swallow around the lump that had swelled in her throat. Not clownlike behavior, not at all.

  “A sweet, kind young woman,” said Mammi Rachel after Natalie Bennett had moved on to visit with the other family in the courtyard. “Brave, to visit us here in the hospital, too. Some people don’t like hospitals. I don’t.”

  Jacob nodded. The children were dueling back and forth with their cat and fish balloon animals, making appropriate noises for both. He didn’t know how someone could visit sick children, day after day, and not have it affect them deeply. Yes, Natalie Bennett was sweet, and kind. Her presence had hit him with a splash of joy.

  Despite his mammi’s words about Gotte’s hand being upon Rebecca and preserving her life, and how Christmas was not ruined, it was hard enough to see his daughter suffering. Moments of laughter, like now, helped mask the pain, along with medication. But tonight would be hard, when Rebecca cried out for her mamm, and Jacob could do nothing except whisper words of comfort and prayer. That’s when the deepest wounds of his heart yet again lay bare and sensitive to the waves of memory. Whenever the children fell ill or upset, Hannah always knew what to do.