Plain Paradise

by Beth Wiseman

  “Mei lieb, it will be up to Linda to decide if she wants to know this woman. You are her mudder. You will always be her mudder.” He sighed, pulled away, and then walked to the other side of the room. In the moonlight, his profile was somber. “But this will be hard for our maedel.” He shook his head again. “We should have told her.”

  “Why didn’t we?” Mary Ellen walked to the small mirror hung from a silver chain on the wall next to her chest of drawers. She reached up and touched her cheek. “She looks like me. Everyone says so.” But then she recalled how much more Linda looked like Josephine, and her heart landed in the pit of her stomach.

  “After we asked the community members not to tell her until we felt she was old enough to understand, I reckon the years just got away from us.” Abe sat down on the bed. “And now she is a young woman.”

  Mary Ellen spun around and faced her husband. “I could just not call her back. Maybe she will go away, leave here.”

  “Mary Ellen, you can’t do that.” Abe raked a hand through his hair.

  “Why not? I don’t have to call her.” She responded in a tone she’d often scolded her children for using.

  Abe patted the side of the bed.

  “I can’t call her, Abe. I’m afraid,” she said while sinking down next to him. She swiped at her eyes and laid her head on his chest. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

  “I will call her first thing tomorrow morning,” he said with authority. “All this guessing about her intentions will do us no gut.”

  Linda sat down on her bed, reached over and flipped on the switch of her battery-operated fan, then leaned her head in front of it to dry her hair a bit. In the evenings, she tried to be the first one in the upstairs bathroom, but tonight both Matt and Luke managed to get their baths before her. Now she’d end up going to sleep with wet hair.

  She pulled the comb through tangled strands that ran to her waist and thought about her mother’s reaction to the Englisch woman who’d shown up earlier. She’d never seen her mother react in such a manner, and Linda couldn’t stop speculating about who the woman might be. Although, she had a hunch.

  Her parents had celebrated their nineteenth wedding anniversary recently, and Linda knew they were happy, but she’d heard her mother jokingly refer to Daed’s first girlfriend on occasion—a woman he’d dated before he’d started to date Mamm. But Linda thought her name was Naomi, not Josie. And Josie clearly wasn’t Amish. Maybe she was Amish at one time.

  She sat up taller and almost gasped as she recalled what happened to Lena Ann Zook. Lena Ann’s husband ran off and left her for another woman, a woman he was seeing behind Lena’s back.

  No, no, no. Her father would never do that.

  Bet that’s what Lena Ann’s children thought too. She held her head upside down to dry the back of her hair in front of the fan.

  She thought about what had happened today, the woman’s tearful expression as she pleaded for a return call, and how Mamm didn’t seem to recognize the woman until she identified herself. When Linda questioned her mother afterward, she had been sharp and told Linda they would discuss it later. Whoever the woman was, Linda hoped she wouldn’t be back. She’d never seen Mamm behave in such a way, and one thing was for sure: that woman seemed like trouble.

  Abe fastened his suspenders and headed down the stairs, breathing in the aroma of frying bacon and fighting fears about what the day might bring. He’d prayed long and hard last night about this situation that was sure to bring upset to his family, and he’d asked God to guide his words and his actions. He’d prayed for all of them. Josephine too.

  He dreaded making the phone call to Josephine, but he knew Mary Ellen didn’t have the strength. His wife had tossed and turned most of the night, and there was a sense of desperation surrounding her that Abe could relate to. He hoped his precious daughter could forgive her parents for not sharing the truth with her before the truth came calling unexpectedly.

  Mary Ellen was standing at the stove when he entered the kitchen. She flipped the bacon, then turned toward him. Her eyelids were swollen, and Abe wished he could ease her pain. He offered her the best smile he could muster and tried to hide his own fears as he sat down at the kitchen table.

  Mathew and Luke waited patiently as Mary Ellen and Linda finished preparing breakfast. Abe didn’t have much of an appetite this morning. He gazed at his beautiful daughter who was scurrying around the kitchen, and he wondered how different Linda’s life would have been if Josephine had raised her. He thought back seventeen years ago and realized that Josephine was the same age as Linda now, when she showed up on their doorstep.

  At the time, Abe and Mary Ellen didn’t think it was in the Lord’s plan for them to conceive a child since Mary Ellen had been unable to get pregnant. But after they’d adopted Linda, Matthew came two years later, then Luke a year after that. Abe’s eyes drifted to Linda’s bare feet as she moved toward the refrigerator and pulled out two jars of jam. She had the chubbiest little feet for someone so thin. Adorable feet that she’d loved for Abe to tickle when she was a little girl. Abe swallowed hard as Linda’s entire childhood flashed through his mind, and he couldn’t seem to take his eyes from his daughter.

  “Daed, do you need something?” Linda stopped in front of him, holding the jars of jam, her brows raised.

  Abe shook his head and fought the unsteadiness in his voice. “No.”

  Linda shrugged as she walked to the other side of the table.

  Matthew and Luke were rambling on about an Englisch girl they saw in town who had purple hair, but Abe didn’t hear anything else after that. His head was filled with what ifs as he watched Linda place the jars on the table. Mary Ellen would fall to pieces if Linda chose to leave the community to be with her birth mother. Abe filled his lungs with air, then blew out slowly, knowing Mary Ellen would not be the only one to despair if Linda chose a life outside of the community.

  But there was one factor largely on their side. Stephen Ebersol. Linda claimed to be madly in love with him, and suddenly Abe found comfort in that thought. For the past few months, he hadn’t wanted to hear talk about his daughter and Stephen. He wasn’t ready to let her go just yet and hoped that Linda and Stephen would date for another year before mentioning wedding plans. Now, though, he found himself hoping Stephen would take that next step soon.

  “Abe, do you need anything else before I sit down?” Mary Ellen’s eyes were heavy with worry, and Abe wished he was able to mask his own emotions better.

  “No. Danki, though.” He forced a smile in Mary Ellen’s direction.

  Once Mary Ellen and Linda were seated, they bowed their heads in prayer. Luke, Matthew, and Linda filled their plates and, between bites, discussed their plans for the day. Linda was planning to ask Barbie to take her and Stephen to see Jonas after she finished her morning chores, and Luke and Matthew were going to start painting the barn a fresh shade of white, a job that would take them most of the week.

  Abe watched his wife trying to keep face in front of her children, smiling when called for, and commenting when appropriate.

  But he’d been married to Mary Ellen for a long time, and Abe knew it was taking all her effort to keep herself together.

  After breakfast, Mary Ellen waited until the children were out of earshot before she spoke of the situation.

  “Are you going to call her first thing this morning?” She clutched her apron with both hands. A moment later, she shook her head and paced the wooden floor. “No, no. Maybe I should do it. Maybe I should call her.” She stopped walking, then spun to face him. “Abe, let’s just don’t call her.”

  Abe got up from the table and walked to his wife. “You know we must call her.” He reached for his hat on the rack, placed it on his head, then embraced Mary Ellen. “But I reckon she wouldn’t be up this time of morning.” Abe eased Mary Ellen out of his arms and nodded toward the window. Only a hint of daylight was visible as the sun began to creep over the horizon. “I have some things to tend to in
the barn, and when the daylight is full, I will call her.”

  Abe was thankful the bishop had started allowing phones in the barns a few years back. Otherwise, he would have to trek over to the Lapp’s shanty, and he didn’t feel like bumping into anyone right now. He needed time to think.

  Mary Ellen folded her hands in front of her and stood a little taller. “I will meet you in the barn after I finish a few things indoors. I should be there when you call her.”

  Abe nodded. Offering to make the call was the manly thing to do as head of the household, but he’d be glad to have his wife with him when he confronted this woman who threatened to cause much upheaval in their world.P

  Josie threw her arm across Robert’s side of the bed. Empty. She wiped sleep from her eyes, blinked the alarm clock into focus, and forced herself to sit up when she saw that it was almost nine o’clock. She rarely slept that late unless it was a weekend and Robert was by her side. Normally, she got up when Robert left for work during the week, around seven o’clock. Then she recalled the sleeping pill she took the night before, an old prescription that she held on to for nights when she couldn’t sleep. She knew sleep wouldn’t come, and her doctor had already told her that the pills were compatible with her other medications, if she needed them.

  She couldn’t help but wonder if Mary Ellen would call today, even though Robert warned her that it might be a couple of days.

  She eased her way out of bed and into her robe. It took her a few moments to recognize the faint beep she was hearing from downstairs. When she realized it was her answering machine, she was suddenly alert and bolted down the stairs. She maneuvered around the maze of boxes in the living room and headed toward the kitchen, her favorite room in the house. She needed its light and cheery atmosphere, with white cabinets and powder blue countertops, lightly-dusted yellow paint on the walls, and a large window that looked out onto freshly tilled soil where Robert had recently planted a garden. Josie had tried to discourage him from the large undertaking, but Robert had always lived in the city, and he wanted to have homegrown vegetables. There was certainly enough room on the five acres that surrounded their new home.

  Josie grew up picking peas in her grandparents’ garden when she was young. By the time she was ten, she’d made up her mind never to have a garden. Nana and Papa’s farm had been right in the middle of Amish Dutch Country in the town of Paradise, where they’d raised their daughters, Josie’s mother and her older sister Laura. Every summer, Mom and Dad would drag Josie and her brother, Kenny, to help with Nana and Papa’s garden. It was about an hour’s drive from where Josie and her family lived in Harrisburg.

  Josie loved visiting her grandparents and especially enjoyed playing with the neighboring Amish children. She just didn’t care for gardening and always seemed to be the one to stumble into something poisonous or somehow annoy a stinging insect.

  Her grandparents had died within a year of each other during Josie’s first year of college. Kenny accepted a job in Florida after graduating from college, and he married Stephanie about two years later. When the first grandchild came a few years ago, Mom and Dad sold the family home in Harrisburg and moved to Florida. Josie hadn’t seen her parents in three years.

  She recalled her phone conversation with her mother on the night she’d called to tell her that she and Robert would be moving to Lancaster County, to Paradise, to be near Linda.

  “You are making a mistake. Why do you want to travel back in time, Josephine?” her mother had asked. “You will only open old wounds. Let the past be the past. Besides, you have far more to worry about than establishing a relationship with that girl.”

  But for Josie, it was hard to find any peace without facing her past, and she was running out of time. Now, back in Paradise, the past was everywhere.

  Josie recalled her trip to the doctor, when he confirmed that she was indeed pregnant at seventeen-years-old.

  “Your grandparents are not to know about this,” her mother had said on the way home from the appointment, echoed by her father later that evening. “You will go and stay with your Aunt Laura in Chicago until we figure out the best way to handle this.”

  Mom and Dad told Nana and Papa that Josie was going to Aunt Laura’s to finish her last year of high school and then attend college there. But she never saw another day of high school and got her GED instead. College in Chicago did follow, but only after Josie was summoned to Paradise to hand her newborn to Mary Ellen and Abraham Huyard just two weeks after she’d given birth. Two glorious weeks during which Josie had called the baby Helen, the name she’d chosen for her daughter.

  Josie had begged her aunt and uncle to let her stay with them. She could raise the baby and work. Aunt Laura had said she couldn’t go against Mom and Dad’s wishes, which were for Josie to return to Lancaster County and sign adoption papers that had already been drawn up. She remembered the pain of handing over her baby to Mary Ellen on the front porch steps of the farm, where she’d just visited yesterday. Her parents had stood tall behind her. Josie felt like they were forcing a punishment on her by making her give away her baby. Her little Helen.

  But it wasn’t my fault. I trusted Mr. Kenton.

  Larry Kenton was a math teacher at the high school in Harrisburg, and all the girls had a crush on him. But it was Josie he befriended and invited to his house on a cold, December evening, enticing Josie with an offer to help her study for her final exam in trigonometry. She was flattered when he kissed her and told her she was the prettiest girl in the school, but when his hands began to roam, Josie realized that she was in way over her head. She’d kissed boys, but never anything beyond that.

  Chills ran up her spine as she struggled to push the event from her mind. But at the forefront of her thoughts stayed the hurt and disappointment that her parents wouldn’t stand up for her. He was an adult. A teacher.

  “You were alone with that man in his home, Josephine,” her father had said when Josie told her parents what happened three months later, when she was fairly certain she was pregnant. “I’m not sure what you want us to do about this. Larry just doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would force himself on someone.”

  Although her mother was more sympathetic, Josie knew that her parents, pillars of the community, didn’t want such a scandal. Their Catholic upbringing prevented them from considering anything but adoption. Mom had met Mary Ellen and Abraham through mutual friends, and Mom knew they’d been trying to have a baby but couldn’t conceive. Large families were important to the Amish, and Mom told Josie she was doing God’s work by giving her baby to Mary Ellen and Abraham.

  She’d hated her parents for a long time after that. Even though she returned to Chicago, her relationship with her aunt was also strained. She went to college during the day and worked nights for three months until she was able to get a small apartment near the campus. Two years later, she had an associate’s degree in business management and not much of a relationship with her family. And that was okay.

  Over the years, Josie was sure Mom and Dad had run into Linda from time to time before they’d moved to Florida, but Mom swore that she broke contact with Mary Ellen and Abe after the adoption, feeling it was best for everyone. In the beginning, Josie phoned her mother often from Chicago, and with each phone call, Mom had done her best to convince Josie that she would be ruining Linda’s life if she caused a ruckus by returning to Lancaster County and seeking claim to her daughter.

  Mom and Dad had visited her in Chicago a few times and attended her marriage to Robert, but nothing was ever the same between them. She’d never forgiven them for making a decision that should have been hers to make.

  But Linda was seventeen now. And Josie was back in Lancaster County. She didn’t care what her parents or anyone else thought about her moving here.

  She stared at the number one blinking red on the answering machine, took a deep breath, and then pushed the Play button. At the last second, she wondered if someone other than the Huyards had left a message. Her
heart thumped as she waited and hoped to hear Mary Ellen’s voice, but instead, a deep, raspy voice came through.

  “Hello. This is Abraham Huyard calling for Josephine Dronberger.”

  3

  LINDA TOOK SHALLOW BREATHS AS SHE WALKED DOWN the hallway at Lancaster General. She tried to avoid the odor, which smelled like something Mamm used when she cleaned the basement. With each tiny inhalation the stench found its way to her nostrils, igniting memories of the last time she had been in this hospital five years ago. Her Uncle Noah had given her cousin, David, one of his kidneys, but before David was transferred to Philadelphia for the transplant, the family had spent a lot of time here. Both Noah and David were healthy now, but it was a scary time for everyone then. And it made Linda even more fearful about seeing Jonas. She wished Stephen hadn’t been called into work at the last minute.

  She gently pushed open the door to Jonas’s room. Lizzie, Jonas’s wife, sat on one side of his bed, and his daughter, Sarah Jane, on the other. Jonas was lying flat on his back with lots of tubes and wires running everywhere, and Linda’s chest grew tight for a moment, until Jonas tilted his head toward her and smiled. His cheeks were sunken in and his complexion a grayish-white color—like his hair and beard—but when he smiled in her direction, he was still the same old Jonas she loved.

  “Linda, so gut to see you.” Jonas quickly turned to his daughter who occupied the chair on his right. “Sarah Jane, get up.” He raised his brows and lifted his chin.

  “No, no,” Linda said when she saw Sarah Jane cut her eyes sharply at her father. “I don’t need to sit down. I’m just fine standing.”

  Sarah Jane stood up, shaking her head at Jonas, then turned to Linda and smiled. “You sit and visit with Pop. I need some kaffi anyway.” She scooted around Linda and coaxed her toward the chair, then faced off with her father. “Pop, I’m not sure it’s necessary to speak to me in such a tone. I would have gladly gotten up for Linda, and I could certainly use a break from you.”