by Beth Wiseman
Josie moved toward a six-drawer dresser along one of the walls, also painted an off-white shade, and pulled open the first drawer. “These are all empty. You can put some of your clothes in here.” She pointed to the closet. “The closet is empty as well.”
Linda glanced around the room and noticed the television suspended from the wall in the corner of the room. A white rocking chair occupied the other corner of the room. She was afraid to touch anything.
“I hope you like roses.” Josie smiled. “I love roses, and I was hoping you did, too, when I started decorating this room for you.”
“You decorated this room for me?”
Josie nodded, then walked to the closet and swung the door wide. Linda was pretty sure the closet was as big as her entire bedroom at home. “This is probably more room than you need, but every woman should have a big closet.”
Linda stared at the couch against the wall across from the dresser. It was an odd-shaped couch, with only half a back that swayed downward, covered in a velvety-looking light pink fabric.
“That’s a chaise longue.” Josie walked toward the piece of furniture, then sat down. “If you lean back like this, you can see the television really well from here.” She twisted her neck back toward the bed. “But you can see it just as well from the bed.”
Linda eyed the flat, square television in the corner and wondered if it had a controller to change the channels, like at her Englisch friends’ houses. Her eyes veered back to the table by the nightstand, and sure enough, there was a television controller beside the alarm clock.
“Do you like the room?” Josie bit her bottom lip.
“Like it? I love it, Josie. I’ve never seen anything like this.” She ran her hand along the delicate bedspread and wondered what it was going to feel like to be wrapped up in the covers with the princess dome overhead. With the television on. She turned around and faced Josie. “Danki, Josie, for making this such a beautiful room and for inviting me to come stay with you.”
Josie moved toward her and smiled. “You are very welcome.” She turned toward the door. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I go finish dinner, and if you’d like, you can take a bath, and then we’ll eat, curl up on the couch, and just make it like a slumber party and talk. There’s a bathroom down the hall.” Josie pointed to her left. “Or, even better, if you’d like to take a bath in our room, there is a big Jacuzzi tub you can soak in.”
“Ya, ya. I’d like that.” Linda didn’t even try to contain her excitement. She’d been fantasizing about taking a bath down the hallway, with the big tub, phone, and television set. But Josie’s bathroom is probably even grander.
“Great. Come on. Follow me. I’ll show you where everything is.”
Linda crossed the hallway behind Josie, and suddenly her own quarters seemed modest in comparison to Josie’s bedroom, if that was possible. Josie’s bed angled from a corner of the room and reminded Linda of a sled, the way the base of the bed curved at the bottom. It was much larger than the bed in Linda’s room and was covered with a dark blue bedspread and topped with lots of white lacy pillows. Everything in this room was made of dark wood, which made it all seem so formal. There was an entire sitting area off to one side with high-back chairs and a full-sized couch. Why did anyone need all this den furniture in a bedroom?
She wanted to keep looking around Josie’s room, study the big framed pictures of landscapes on the wall and the smaller ones of people on her dresser, but she followed Josie into the bathroom.
This is no bathroom. She didn’t even see a commode. This room was surely larger than her bedroom at home.
“There are towels in the cabinet.” Josie pointed to her left, but Linda could hardly take her eyes from the tub, which she reckoned would hold four people if need be.
“That’s some bathtub.” Linda eyed the massive, bronzed faucets and water spigots all inside the white enclosure.
Josie walked to the tub, turned the faucet on, then pointed to some buttons on the side of the tub. “You can adjust the jets however you like. Just push these buttons when the tub gets full.” She walked to the marble counter and pulled a pretty blue basket full of bottles and tubes toward her. “And there are bubble baths, lotions, and all kinds of goodies in here. Just help yourself to anything.”
Linda recalled the baths at her house, lit by lantern if she didn’t beat Matt and Luke to bathe in the evenings. Soaps and shampoo that she and Mamm made on a regular basis. The small battery-operated fan to keep the sweat from building the minute you stepped from the claw-foot bathtub onto the brown rug. Creaky wooden floor, gas heater in the wintertime, and always, no matter the season, the same towel all week long.
“Here’s the remote for the television.” Josie handed the channel changer to Linda. “You should have plenty of time to take a nice soak before I finish dinner.” Josie smiled. “Linda, I’m so glad you’re here.”
Linda glanced around the room, anxious to enjoy a bath in this super fancy tub, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had forgotten something.
“I’m glad I’m here too.”
“Okay. Yell if you need anything.”
Linda nodded, then Josie left the bathroom and closed the door behind her. A sweet aroma filled her senses and drew her to the basket of goodies on the counter. She fumbled through the items and chose more than was probably necessary, then set the bubble baths, gels, and shampoo on the platform beside the tub, alongside the channel changer.
She giggled as she pushed the button on the tub. Water started to bubble up like the brook behind her house after a hard rain. She hastily got out of her clothes, tossed them on the tile floor, and removed her kapp. Her brown hair fell to her waist, and she dipped her toe into the warm water, then climbed in. As she got comfortable in the tub, she reached for the channel changer and pushed the On button. She wondered what it would be like to take a bath in this tub every day. Hopefully, she’d be doing it for the next two weeks.
She twisted her mouth to one side. Despite the perfect moment, there was something bogging her down, that feeling like you’ve forgotten something. What is it? What is it?
Then she remembered.
12
STEPHEN PASSED THROUGH THE COVERED BRIDGE ON his way to the furniture store on Tuesday evening, anxious to see what Linda’s response was to his written proposal. She’d said she would get the note on the way to Josephine’s, which would have been way before now since he’d worked late. His stomach swirled and his palms went damp as he pulled the buggy to a stop and reached for the coiled paper. But the swirling turned into a heavy knot in the pit of his belly when he unrolled it.
He sighed, then rolled the note back up and retied the ribbon around it. As he placed it back in between the supports on the bridge, he figured she must have forgotten to pick it up on her way, which irritated him probably more than it should have. She didn’t know it was a proposal.
Stephen motioned the horse into action and continued toward the store. He’d check again tomorrow on his way home from work.
He couldn’t seem to shake the worry he was feeling about Linda staying with her birth mother for two weeks. It was only natural that she’d want to get to know the woman, but that thought didn’t lessen his fear. Stephen saw the way Linda eyed fancy items when they were in town sometimes, and he wasn’t sure how strong her attraction to material things was. He shook his head, resolved to trust her. Linda was strong in her beliefs, and he’d keep the faith that she would stay in line with the Ordnung.
Still, it irritated him that she didn’t swing by the bridge earlier, when she knew there was a note waiting for her.
Linda dried herself off with a towel so plush it felt like silk against her skin. She glanced at the phone in the bathroom and thought about calling Stephen’s house and leaving a message on their phone in the barn, but she didn’t want someone other than Stephen to get the message, which was most likely what would happen. She’d have to go by the bridge tomorrow to get his note. She was g
lad she’d remembered what she’d forgotten.
Her suitcases were still across the hall in her room, so she bundled up in the towel, tiptoed out of the bathroom, and walked through Josie’s room toward the door. She paused and gazed at the beautiful pictures hanging on the wall, floral landscapes with cottages.
She passed by a large cherry wood dresser with a tall etched mirror. Pictures lined the top of the dresser, and her eyes were drawn to a photo that appeared older than the others and showed a sleeping baby dressed in pink. Me. She held the towel in place with one hand and picked up the framed photo with the other and wondered if the picture had always been on Josie’s dresser. She set it down and walked to her own room and breathed in the fresh scent from the roses. This is paradise.
She pulled a brown dress over her head, brushed out her wet hair, and started to go down the stairs, then she remembered something. Linda went back into Josie’s bathroom and reached for the blow-dryer and fumbled to turn it on. She’d never used one before, but she quickly found the On switch and aimed the warm air at her scalp as she raked a hand through her hair. When she was done, her hair was still damp, but it had a smoothness she didn’t get from air drying it at home, or when she dried it in front of the battery-operated fan in her room.
She hung the blow-dryer back on the hook beside the sink, then reached for a tube of perfumed lotion she must have missed earlier. She smeared it on her hands until they were soft and felt elegant. If Stephen could see—and smell—her now . . . Linda smiled, and then headed down the stairs.
Josie struggled to mash the potatoes. Her entire right hand was numb now and part of her arm. She knew all too well that she was supposed to call the doctor if she began to experience numbness on the right side of her body. Not tonight.
She bowed her head as visions of her youth came flooding back, a time when prayer was something she practiced daily. Now, it just felt awkward. But it had worked before, when she had her headache, and she was willing to try anything. God, please help me to stay well enough to enjoy this time with my daughter. Don’t let me get sick—or die—while she’s here. Please.
She raised her head in time to hear Linda coming through the den. Josie took a deep breath, forced a smile, and put the potatoes on the table in the dining room with her left hand.
“Josie, that bathroom is wonderful. That was the best bath I’ve ever had in my life!” Linda was glowing, and her daughter’s youthful zest sucked the fear and worry right out of Josie’s mind.
“Good, I’m so glad. I thought you might like taking a bath in my room, in that big tub.” Josie felt a bit guilty, knowing that Mary Ellen and Abe couldn’t—and wouldn’t—offer Linda the kind of luxuries that Josie had enjoyed for most of her life.
“Can I help you do something?” Linda folded her hands in front of her, and Josie didn’t think she’d ever seen a more beautiful image. My daughter. In my home.
“No.” Josie forced herself to look away from Linda. She felt like she could stare at her forever. She’d waited so long for this. “Everything is ready.” Josie motioned for Linda to take a seat across from her at the table where she’d arranged two place settings.
Linda hesitated, but slowly sat down. She stared at the china, stemware, and serving dishes on the table. Josie had wanted to set the perfect table, but this might be too much for Linda.
“Hey, I said this was going to be like a slumber party, right?” Josie cupped her hips with her hands. “Why don’t we take our plates into the den, curl up on the couch, and eat in our laps while we watch TV?”
“Really?” Linda smiled as Josie picked up her own plate with her left hand. “Let’s just fill them and take them to the living room.”
Josie set her plate on the table beside the meatloaf, and then picked up a spatula with her left hand to scoop out a small portion. “Help yourself.”
Linda didn’t move, though, and her brow creased with worry. “What’s wrong with your hand?”
Josie looked down at her arm, swallowed hard, and tried to control the panic she felt when she saw her right arm jerking like it had a mind of its own. “Oh, it’s just—oh, it’s nothing. It just happens sometimes.”
Linda stood up and rounded the table, then stared down at Josie’s twitching arm. “It’s not nothing. Does it hurt?”
“No. It doesn’t hurt at all. I’m just having some motor function issues. It’ll go away in a minute.” Josie piled some potatoes on her plate, more than she’d ever eat. “Here, sweetie. Fill your plate, and we’ll go pick out a movie.” She nodded toward the potatoes.
Linda didn’t move. “Does the doctor know?”
“Yes, it’s really no big deal.” Josie shrugged. “I take medicine for it. Sometimes it’s worse than others.”
“But it doesn’t hurt?”
Linda seemed unusually preoccupied with pain, and Josie wasn’t sure whether or not to question her about it or not. “No, it doesn’t hurt. I promise.”
Hesitantly, Linda went back to the other side of the table, picked up her plate, and began filling it.
“How do you stay so thin, eating like that?” Josie grinned, but she could feel her right hand starting to twitch even more.
Linda was focused on the salad Josie had prepared and helping herself to a nice-size portion. “I reckon it’s because we work a lot. There’s lots to do on a farm.”
“Oh my gosh!” Josie clamped her eyes closed for a moment. When she opened them, Linda had stopped serving herself salad and was staring at Josie. “I almost forgot. The doctor’s office left a message and changed an appointment I have from Thursday to tomorrow, so I have a doctor’s appointment at ten o’clock in the morning at Lancaster General.” She paused and offered Linda what she hoped was a comforting smile. “Just routine.” One more doctor confirming what she already knew to be true. Mrs. Dronberger, the lesion in your brain stem is inoperable, and since all other treatments have failed, we are sorry to tell you . . . She’d heard it enough to recite it for them.
“Is it for that jerkiness in your hand?” Linda gazed up at her with such concern in her eyes, Josie swallowed a knot in her throat.
“Yes, but it’s not a big deal.” Josie lifted her plate with her left hand. “Let’s go sit on the couch and eat.”
“Mei onkel is a doctor. Do you want me to have him look at your hand, maybe you won’t have to go all the way to Lancaster General? Mei onkel has a clinic right here in Paradise.”
Josie knew Linda was referring to her husband’s friend, Noah Stoltzfus, but she didn’t mention it. “Actually, I’m going to see a specialist.” Josie nodded for Linda to follow her into the living room. She sat down and tucked her legs beneath her. Robert hated to eat anywhere but the dining room table, so this was a treat for Josie as well, watching television while eating. It angered her that her hand had picked this night to act up, but she’d ask Dr. Phillips about it in the morning.
“Is it serious?” Linda sat down on the opposite end of the couch, keeping her feet together on the floor while balancing her plate in her lap. She stared hard into Josie’s eyes.
Josie hated herself for lying, but she was not going to mess up these two weeks. “No, it’s not.”
“Gut.” Linda sighed with relief, then bowed her head.
Josie did the same, but she didn’t want to talk to God right now. She opened one eye and watched her right hand twitching. Maybe it wasn’t so much that she didn’t believe in God; maybe she was just madder than heck at him. The issue was becoming more and more confusing for her.
Mary Ellen tried to focus on the book she was reading in bed, but she couldn’t get her mind off of Linda.
“Mary Ellen, you’re tapping your feet together.” Abe gently nudged her foot with his. “You always do that when you’re upset or worried about something.” Her husband pulled off his reading glasses and set the book he was reading aside, the one with a motorcycle on the front. “Linda is fine.”
“You don’t know that, Abe.” Mary Ellen glanced at the
book on his nightstand and arched one brow. “There’s much temptation in the Englisch world.”
Abe followed her eyes to the bedside table. “Ya, I reckon there is. But Linda will make gut choices.” He paused, then grinned. “Now quit eyeballing my book like I’ve turned to the other side.” Abe settled back against his pillow and stretched his legs.
“I just don’t see why you read such nonsense.” She pointed to Abe’s reading material. “What could a book like that possibly have to offer you?”
Abe shrugged. “It just interests me, those bikes. How fast they can go, what size motors they have, and how much the Englisch will pay for one.” He chuckled. “I reckon it’s just something to do, Mary Ellen. You worry too much. About everything.”
Mary Ellen sat up taller and narrowed her eyes at him. “I do not.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I worry about what needs to be worried about.”
“Well, my motorcycle book shouldn’t be one of those things.” He pulled her close. “And I feel like we are past the worst part with Linda. My biggest fear was that she wouldn’t forgive us, and she did. Now, let our maedel spend some time with Josephine, while she can. And try not to worry.”
Mary Ellen sat quietly for a while as shimmering rays of light from the lanterns danced on the clapboard walls. She wondered what Linda and Josephine were doing right now. What did Josephine cook, or had they gone out to eat? Would they stay up late talking, or go to bed early? What plans were they making for tomorrow?
She gave her head a quick shake and tried to clear the worry from her heart. Abe was right. She was worrying too much. But one thing scared her more than Linda leaving the community— picking up the pieces of Linda’s broken heart if she got too close to Josephine. Did Josephine even think about that before she plowed into their lives?