Plain Paradise

by Beth Wiseman

  Josephine began a process that captured Linda’s attention, especially when Josephine poured milk into a small pitcher, then placed it under the pipe that made all sorts of odd sounds.

  “We’re steaming the milk now.” She smiled at Linda. “I like to sprinkle nutmeg and cinnamon on mine. Do you want me to do that to yours too?”

  “Sure.” Linda watched her add white foam on top of two cups of steaming coffee, then sprinkle the spices on top. “Josephine . . .” She stopped and realized she had yet to call this woman by name. “What do I call you? I mean, I have a mother and all.”

  Josephine carted the two cups of coffee to the table, pushed the two glasses of tea to the side, and pulled out a chair for Linda. “Here, sit down,” she said.

  Linda sat down and waited for her answer.

  “My name is Josephine, but my friends and family call me Josie.” Her face shone with kindness, and Linda took a deep breath and tried to settle her nerves. “Linda . . .” She paused, placed an elbow on the table, then rested her chin atop it. “I would never expect you to call me mother. Of course, you have a mother. I am just hoping to be your friend, in whatever capacity you will allow me. I just want to get to know you.” She smiled. “Taste the cappuccino.”

  Linda brought the porcelain cup to her mouth and blew. “Hot,” she whispered, then took a sip. “It’s gut.” She took another swig. “It’s very gut.” It was the best coffee she’d ever had.

  “I’m glad you like it. Robert and I became fans of cappuccino about six years ago. Now it’s our thing to curl up on the couch and have a cup in the evenings. Some people can’t do that because the caffeine will keep them up at night, but it doesn’t bother us.”

  Linda took another sip and thought about how she’d like to drink this kind of coffee every day.

  “Josie? It’s okay if I call you that?” Linda set the cup down and Josie nodded.

  “Of course. Josie is just fine.”

  Linda’s stomach churned with anxiety, but she had to know. “Why did you give me away? What would make a mother not want her baby?”

  Josie’s eyes instantly clouded with tears, but Linda knew she needed this question answered first, before she and Josie could even move forward as friends. Josie stirred uneasily in her chair and tried to blink back tears.

  “I wanted you very much,” she said as a tear rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away. “But my parents didn’t want me to raise a baby. I was only seventeen at the time. Your age.” She smiled at Linda, even though another tear trickled down her cheek. “But I wanted you very much. Handing you over to your parents two weeks after you were born was the hardest thing I have ever done. I prayed each day that you would be cared for and grow up to live a good life. My parents said that I was doing what God would want me to do, since Mary Ellen and Abe couldn’t have children. Or, they didn’t think they could at the time.”

  Linda was relieved to know that Josie had wanted to keep her, but equally as relieved to hear her speak of God. “I only found out about all this yesterday. My parents never told me that I was given to them.”

  “I know. Your father told me that on the phone when we arranged this meeting. I’m sorry, Linda. I know this must have been a shock to you.” Josie took a sip of her coffee, then leaned back against the blue cushion. “But not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about you. I wanted you to be old enough to understand why I did what I did, and to know that I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you.” Long black lashes blinked feverishly to keep more tears from falling. “I have a whole box full of pictures that I took that first two weeks after you were born.”

  “You do?” Since photos were not allowed, Linda had no idea what she looked like as a baby.

  “Do you want to see them? Do you think your parents would mind?”

  “They won’t mind. Ya, I’d like to see them.” Linda thought for a moment. “Do you have other pictures? Of you?”

  Josie’s eyes lit up. “I have lots of photo albums of me as well, but do you really want to see those?”

  Of course I do! “Ya, I do, but . . .” Something was still looming over them.

  “What is it, sweetie?”

  Maybe it was the way Josie called her “sweetie,” but Linda felt warm inside and comfortable enough to ask, “What about my father? What happened to him? Why did the two of you not get married?”

  Josie rubbed her forehead with her hand, the one with the big ring on her finger. “We didn’t love each other. He was older than me . . . and I didn’t want to do what he wanted to do, but he forced me to, and . . .” She paused. “Linda, are you following what I’m saying?”

  Linda shook her head. “No.”

  “Linda, he forced me to have sex with him, and that’s how I got pregnant. He was not a very good man. He died a long time ago. I’m sorry to tell you this.”

  Linda could feel the flush in her cheeks. “Oh,” she said softly, unsure how she felt about this news. They were quiet for a few moments. “Did he hurt you? This man who is my father.”

  Josie reached over and placed her hand on top of Linda’s, and it felt strange, but nice. “My biggest hurt was losing you. And all that matters at this point is that we are becoming friends, and that you know that I always loved you, and never wanted to be away from you. Each year on your birthday, I’d have a cake, and I’d light candles for however many years old you were, and I’d sing to you.”

  “Really?”

  Josie nodded. “Do you want to look at pictures now, while we have time before we go to lunch?”

  “Ya, I would.”

  Linda had helped Josie lug several photo albums from her bedroom to the kitchen. Josie looked at them, scattered all over the kitchen table, most of them she hadn’t opened in years. She’d tried not to bring the albums with pictures she wouldn’t want Linda to see, like the one of her with her girlfriends at a bachelorette party when she was in her twenties, the time when a male dancer showed up. It was innocent, but Linda might not understand. Then there was the one when she and Robert were in Mexico, and Josie remembered the skimpy bikini she’d bought for that trip. Her mind was racing when Linda reached for one of the photo albums and opened it.

  “Is that me?” She pointed to a baby in a pink T-shirt that said, Mommy loves me. Linda’s eyes were glowing and hopeful.

  “No, sweetheart. I’m afraid that’s me.” Josie remembered putting her two weeks’ worth of photos in a little blue album, only big enough to hold single shots of Linda. She picked it up and handed it to Linda. “These are pictures of you.”

  “But the name on the front says Helen.” Linda looked up at Josie with big blue, questioning eyes.

  “That’s what I called you. For two weeks anyway. I named you Helen.”

  Linda smiled. “Can I look at them?”

  “Of course.” Josie scooted her chair close to Linda. She wanted to put her arm around her, to hold her close. But just sitting next to her daughter, in her home, would be enough for now.

  Linda giggled, and Josie’s insides warmed like that of a proud mother. “That’s me?” her daughter asked. “I look like a frog!” She laughed again.

  Josie playfully poked her in the arm, smiling ear to ear. “Don’t you dare say that about my beautiful baby! You did not look like a frog. You were beautiful, still are.” She took a chance and put her arm around Linda, and instantly she felt Linda stiffen up and edge forward in the chair. Josie eased her arm back down to her side and refused to let that small thing derail the wonderful time they were having.

  “Look at you there.” Josie pointed to a picture of herself holding Linda on her aunt’s couch, with her arm stretched wide. “I held the camera out and took that picture of us, that’s why it looks kinda odd.”

  “You’re so young.” Linda turned toward Josie, frowning.

  Josie stared at the picture. She remembered buying the disposable camera and hiding it from her aunt. Aunt Laura had thought it best for Josie not to keep any pictures of the
baby, but Josie took pictures of Linda every chance she could. “I was your age. Seventeen. Almost eighteen.”

  “I’ll be eighteen in August.”

  Josie smiled. “I know.” She choked back tears as she thought that perhaps this year she would light candles and sing to her baby in person. To Helen. To Linda.

  “I like the name Helen.”

  “I like the name Linda too.” Josie watched her flip through the photos, slowly, as if memorizing each and every one.

  When she looked at the last picture, she turned to Josie, her expression serious. “Did it hurt? To have a baby?”

  “They say you forget about the pain, and I guess that’s true, but I do remember it being rather painful.” Josie handed Linda another photo album. “This one is pictures of me, before you were born. It was my sixteenth birthday.”

  Josie watched in awe as Linda smiled and studied the photos. “I look like you, no?”

  “Yes, you do.” She covered her mouth with her hand and fought the knot building in her throat.

  Josie watched Linda scan each and every photo album and answered all her questions about those in the pictures. It took over an hour for her to go through them all.

  “Danki,” she said when she closed the last album.

  “You’re very welcome. Do you want to go to Katie’s Kitchen now?”

  “Ya.”

  Josie left the albums on the table, found her purse, and they headed out the door. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “Ya.” Linda smiled as her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink. “His name is Stephen Ebersol.”

  “Oh, I’d like to hear all about him at lunch, if you’d like to tell me.”

  “Ya, I would.”

  Linda was glowing, and Josie knew that this was the happiest day of her life. And since the doctors had told her to enjoy each and every day she still had, that is exactly what she planned to do.

  6

  MARY ELLEN PACKED A BASKET WITH A LOAF OF ZUCCHINI bread, two loaves of regular homemade bread, and a generous supply of raisin puffs. Her nephew, David, loved the fluffy cookies rolled in cinnamon and sugar. She knew Lillian was racing back and forth between her own home and her Maam’s so she could help take care of Jonas and Lizzie. It was a small offering, but if Mary Ellen were honest with herself, she also needed the distraction to keep her thoughts from venturing to Linda and Josephine.

  She hitched up the spring buggy, loaded the basket in the back, and headed to Lillian and Samuel’s. On the way, though, she barely noticed the gentle breeze and colorful foliage. Every time she thought about Linda and Josephine spending the day together, her stomach twisted in knots. And she wondered how Abe’s conversation was going with Matt and Luke. Would their boys be just as upset by the news of Linda’s adoption as Linda? I should have gone with Abe to tell them.

  “Whoa.” She pulled the buggy to a stop next to the family buggy parked at Lillian and Samuel’s, picked up her basket, and headed to the house. Lillian met her on the porch.

  “How are you holding up?”

  “What?” Mary Ellen offered her the basket. “What do you mean?”

  Lillian pushed back a strand of loose hair, tucked it beneath her kapp, then stepped closer and accepted the basket. She put her free hand on Mary Ellen’s forearm. “David told us. About Linda. About her being adopted. I honestly didn’t know.”

  Mary Ellen wasn’t surprised that Linda had confided in her cousin; they’d always been close. “It happened so long ago, way before you married Samuel. We just don’t speak of it, so I’m not surprised that Samuel didn’t tell you.”

  “When I asked Samuel about it, he said he just never thought to tell me, that Linda is just as much a part of this family as anyone.” Lillian opened the screen door and motioned Mary Ellen into the kitchen. “Here, sit down. Samuel and David are working in the barn, and Anna and Elizabeth are down for their naps. This is a perfect time for us to talk.”

  Mary Ellen took a seat on one of the wooden benches in Lillian’s kitchen. “They’re together now. Linda and her mother.”

  “You’re her mother, Mary Ellen. Nothing is going to change that.”

  “And Abe is telling Matt and Luke this morning.” Mary Ellen covered her face with both hands and shook her head. “We made such a mistake, Lillian.” She pulled her hands away and rubbed tired eyes. “We should have told Linda and the boys about this a long time ago, way before Josephine came callin’.”

  “Maybe so. But, Mary Ellen, love runs much deeper than a bloodline. You know that. No one is ever going to replace you as Linda’s mother.”

  Mary Ellen was quiet for a few moments. “I know nothing about this woman Josephine. Is she a good Christian woman? Will she be a gut influence on our Linda?”

  “Linda might not even want to have a relationship with this woman. They might just spend the day together and that will be it. Linda might just be curious now that she’s been told, and she might not want to see this woman again.”

  Mary Ellen sighed. “Lillian, I know it’s wrong of me to want that, but that’s exactly what I want. God help me, but I don’t want that woman in our lives. I’m praying about it constantly, and I know my thoughts aren’t Christian, but I can’t help it.”

  “Did she seem nice?”

  “Ya, she did. She even invited me to go with her and Linda.”

  Lillian sat up taller. “Why didn’t you?”

  Mary Ellen shrugged. “I reckon we’ve made a mess of things up to this point, and I felt like Linda should have this time with Josephine by herself.” She paused. “She’s very pretty, the Englisch woman.”

  Lillian smiled. “So are you.”

  Mary Ellen forced a smile. “Danki, Lillian.” But these days when Mary Ellen looked in the mirror, she no longer saw the person she remembered herself to be. Instead, the face that stared back at her had tiny lines feathering from the corners of each eye, and depending on the hours of sleep she’d had, often dark circles underneath eyes that seemed smaller somehow, less vibrant. And her hair, once a silky dark brown, was now speckled with gray. She thought about Josephine’s honey blonde hair, her perfectly made-up face, and the way her clothes complemented her shapely figure. Mary Ellen knew that vanity is a sin, but as her thirty-eighth birthday approached, it was hard not to see the physical changes taking place. She glanced at hands worn by years of hard work, and she suspected Josephine used fancy lotions to keep her hands smooth and young-looking.

  “How is Jonas?” Mary Ellen was ready to talk about something else.

  Lillian blew out an exasperated breath and rolled her eyes. “Demanding.” She smiled. “It’s a gut thing we all love Grandpa so much, because some days he is just a schtinker.” Lillian shook her head. “Mei Mamm and Lizzie have their hands full. I go by there every day and try to help, but it’s hard because I have mei own family to take care of too.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Lillian pointed to the basket. “I don’t have to bake any bread tomorrow morning since you brought us that basket. Danki, Mary Ellen. That’s a big help.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can.” Mary Ellen reached over and placed her hand on Lillian’s.

  “Danki. We’re all getting by just fine, but when Grandpa gets in one of his nasty moods, it’s just terrible. I know he feels badly and all, but yesterday he demanded that someone shave his beard off. We didn’t know what to do.”

  Mary Ellen let out a slight gasp. “Why? That would be unheard of.”

  “Mamm tried to calmly remind him that when a man gets married, he never shaves his beard.” Lillian stifled a grin. “Do you know what he told her?”

  Mary Ellen arched her brows. “No tellin’.”

  “He told Mamm that there are tiny little people living in his beard and that they talk all the time, keeping him up at night. Then he talked ugly to Mamm and told her he’d shave it himself.”

  Mary Ellen chuckled, but quickly bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, Lillian. I know it’s not funny
.”

  “It’s okay. It’s hard not to laugh at something so out of character for Grandpa.”

  “What did Sarah Jane do?”

  Lillian smiled. “Mamm told the little people in his beard to be quiet, then pretended to give them one of Grandpa’s sleeping pills.”

  “Did that work?”

  Lillian shrugged. “Seemed to.”

  Mary Ellen thought for a moment. “Does Jonas understand what’s happening?”

  “Ya. He does. When his mind is gut, he says he is ready to go be with the Lord.”

  They sat quietly for a minute.

  “How is Lizzie handlin’ things?”

  “Pretty gut on most days, but I heard her crying in the bathroom the other day. She won’t show much emotion in front of anyone, especially Grandpa, but I know she’s hurting.”

  “Of course she is.” Mary Ellen paused. “The world won’t be the same without your grandpa in it.”

  “No. It won’t.” Lillian’s eyes filled with water. “But how blessed we all are to know him and have him in our lives.”

  Mary Ellen nodded as she blinked back her own tears.

  Abe loaded the last of the tools he’d purchased at the farmer’s market, while Matt and Luke stowed several bags of groceries in the buggy, items from Mary Ellen’s list. His wife had offered to be with Abe when he told Matt and Luke about Linda’s adoption, but Abe feared his wife’s current state of mind might only make things worse. Matt and Luke were young men, and Abe reckoned he should be the one to talk to them. He waited until they were clear of the city and moving down Black Horse Road toward home.

  Matthew was in the front seat with Abe, and Luke sat beside the groceries and tools in the backseat. Abe slowed the horse to a trot and took a deep breath.

  “Boys, there is something I need to talk with you about.” He held the reins with one hand as he tipped his hat back with the other, wiping sweat from his brow.

  Neither boy said anything. Matt seemed preoccupied with a flyer he was reading, something about an upcoming Mud Sale in nearby Strasburg.