A Love for Leah

by Amy Lillard

  He scrambled down and made his way to the center of the table, where the promised verses waited.

  “Get us a few if you want to make more than one rock.” And he had a feeling Peter would want to. Jamie himself was a little excited by the prospect. It was refreshing. Who had ever heard of a ministry to reach the people involving rocks?

  Peter returned to his chair with a handful of the slips of paper and a huge smile on his face. Jamie would have never thought it possible, but tonight was going to be therapeutic—for them all.

  * * *

  “Are you going to paint? Or are you going to just sit there and stare?”

  Leah started as Jamie leaned in close. Had she been staring? It was obvious she wasn’t painting; she didn’t even have a paintbrush in her hands. But she hadn’t meant to stare.

  The joy on Peter’s face was near rapturous, and she wondered if she was getting a look at how he had been before the accident.

  She took up her brush and dipped it in the green paint Peter had scuttled to get after painting his first rock. “I’m painting, of course.” She swabbed the color over the top of the rock and shot Jamie a smile.

  So far they had a purple rock with John 1:12 and a cross for decoration. They didn’t have enough room on it to paint all the verse so they’d merely left it off, hoping instead that whoever found the rock would look up the verse to uncover the full message. Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.

  Brandon and Shelly were sitting a couple of tables over and up toward the front a little more. He had wanted to drive them himself, even though he swore it wasn’t a date. Not that Leah thought Shelly’s parents would allow her to officially date a boy. Maybe saying there was nothing between them was Brandon and Shelly’s way of making sure they could spend time together.

  Leah made a mental note to talk to him about that. It was right up there with sneaking around, and a relationship shouldn’t be based on a togetherness that had to be hidden. Even if it was only just beginning—or maybe especially because it was only just beginning.

  Leah looked around and noticed that several people were writing on their rocks with a black magic marker. “Peter, can you get us a marker like that?” She nodded toward the nearest woman wielding a Sharpie.

  Peter nodded in that accommodating way of his and slid from his chair to get the item for her.

  “I do believe that boy would do anything for you,” Jamie mused.

  “He’s a good boy,” Leah returned. A good boy who had been handed a raw deal, then a wonderful man to help him through it. But Leah knew that Jamie was still concerned that Peter wouldn’t talk in time for his cutoff with the grandparents.

  “Have you given any more thought to talking to Pastor Joel about the problem?”

  “What can he offer that no one else already has?”

  “A new perspective?” She gave a small shrug.

  “Perspective is not what I need.” He sighed.

  “Still . . .”

  Jamie shook his head. He picked up a rock painted with a large red heart and Mark 11:24. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.

  It was a scripture he seemed to live by, but as the days passed, Leah could see his faith begin to wane. Just the thought of that saddened her. There had to be something more they could do.

  He set the rock back on the table and forced a smile.

  “Hi, Leah. I see you brought some friends tonight.”

  Jamie turned in his seat to find the pastor standing behind his chair.

  The man reached out a hand to shake. His grip was firm, his eyes warm, and his demeanor welcoming.

  “Pastor Joel, this is Jamie Stoltzfus and his son, Peter. They’re neighbors to my parents.”

  “Good. Good.” Pastor Joel nodded as if having them there was the finest thing he could have asked for. But Leah knew he was always like that: polite, welcoming, open. “Hi there, Peter.” He reached his hand out to the boy, who had just returned with the requested marker.

  Peter shook his hand and climbed back into his seat without a word.

  “He, uh . . . doesn’t talk.” Jamie lowered his voice in what Leah assumed was an attempt to keep him from hearing, but Peter was too close. It wasn’t possible that he hadn’t heard the words unless he was extremely hard of hearing. And he wasn’t.

  She wanted to say something to Jamie, kick him under the table, anything to make him realize that he was potentially damaging Peter’s self-confidence by saying things like that in front of him. But it was really none of her business, and Peter had already gone back to painting Jesus loves you on a blue rock.

  “Puts a whole new spin on unwholesome talk, now doesn’t it?”

  Leah couldn’t remember the exact verse he was referencing, but she did remember it was in Ephesians and dealt with only speaking goodness. She nodded, and Jamie did the same.

  “Pastor Joel!”—from across the room, someone called his name.

  “I think I’m being paged.” He nodded toward Peter and Jamie. “Thank you for coming out tonight. It’s good to finally meet you.”

  Pastor Joel moved away to address the people who had called him, and Leah turned her attention back to her rock.

  She had managed to procure one of a decent size, along with some white paint to go with her red. She mixed the two to make a sweetheart pink. On one side she painted I Corinthians 13:2. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.

  She had seen her sister find love, as well as her brother; even Brandon found a bit of puppy love, though he had a hard time admitting that there was anything more than friendship between him and Shelly. Was it so bad for Leah to pray for a little of that love herself? But what happened when the one person she thought she could love if given half the chance didn’t have the same beliefs as her? Maybe she should paint a rock about being unequally yoked, though she knew Amish and Mennonite didn’t count in that aspect. They both believed in God. They both believed in church and family, in love and caring for one another. Why did it have to be more difficult than that?

  Inwardly she sighed while she pasted on a smile for Peter’s sake. It just did. And as terrible of an answer as that was, it was the truth all the same.

  * * *

  “What did he mean tonight?” Jamie asked. It had taken him until the trip home to gather enough courage to ask. Well, courage was not the right word. But he had tried to convince himself all evening that he had heard wrong. That Pastor Joel hadn’t said what he’d thought he heard.

  “What did who mean?”

  “The pastor. He said, ‘It’s good to finally meet you.’ Why would he say finally?”

  She gave a loose-shouldered shrug, but kept her hands on the steering wheel. “I may have mentioned you and Peter once or twice.”

  “In a private conversation with the pastor?”

  “A request for prayer.”

  White-hot something shot through him. Anger? Regret? That feeling as if he’d stepped off a cliff and there was no turning back. “Why would you do that?”

  She switched her gaze from the road to him, then back again. “Are you saying that you can’t use prayers?”

  “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

  “There is power in numbers, and the more people praying, the better chance that prayer has.”

  He wasn’t sure if he believed all that. Didn’t God hear the smallest prayer? But he hated that Leah had felt sorry for him. So sorry that she begged her church to remember him when they talked to God.

  “It’s arrogant,” he finally said. His voice was choked as if someone had tied something too tightly around his neck.

  “Arrogant? To ask for prayers?” She scoffed. “Maybe if you asked for yourself, but not when someone else asks for you—scratch that.” She took one hand fro
m the wheel and waved it around as if erasing words from a blackboard. “Asking for prayers and praying . . . there’s nothing arrogant about it. It’s humbling. Maybe that’s your problem,” she said as she turned the car into the flattened area that served as a driveway for Jamie’s cabin. “You think you’re arrogant if you talk to God, but it only means you have a relationship with Him. And how can that be a bad thing?”

  * * *

  Leah’s words continued to knock around inside his head even after he and Peter had come into the house and she had driven away. He got Peter ready for bed and read him a story, then he said his prayers and Jamie tucked him in for the night. Well, at least until he gave up and headed into Jamie’s room.

  He had no way of knowing what Peter prayed for. Had he been asking for a relief for his silence? Maybe not, if he could talk the way Leah seemed to think he could. With all the burns on his neck and surgeries to that area, it had even been speculated that there had been some undetected damage that caused his muteness.

  Yet Leah had said he’d told her that he didn’t like Deborah. Had he really said those words? Before the accident Peter had been a smart, funny, and vivacious little boy.

  But Jamie had no way of knowing what Peter had asked for in his prayers. Suddenly he wanted to know more than anything. A mantle of urgency settled around his shoulders. There was so much at stake. So much still unresolved.

  He sat back down on the edge of Peter’s bed and pushed the boy’s hair back from his face. “Peter, I haven’t mentioned this before, but maybe it’s time.”

  Peter watched with those large blue eyes as Jamie heaved a great sigh and continued.

  “If you don’t speak soon, your mammi and dawdi Yoder are going to come get you and take you back to Ethridge with them. I don’t know how you feel about this, but I would miss you so much, I don’t think I could stand it. That’s why I need you to talk. Soon. Jah?” He leaned down and planted a quick kiss on Peter’s forehead.

  The boy nodded and snuggled down into the covers.

  That was all Jamie could do for now. That, pray, and trust in God. But the last two hadn’t worked so far. Maybe it was time for more drastic measures.

  He made his way back into the living area of the house and stared at the basket of painted rocks sitting on the table. He had promised Leah that they would go with the rest of the congregation and place those around Pontotoc on Saturday. Now they sat in their little basket, just a colorful reminder of one of the best nights of his life.

  He had brought all the rocks home until Saturday so Peter could look at them. The boy hadn’t wanted to part with the treasures, so Leah agreed that he could hold on to them until the next event.

  Jamie plucked one of the rocks from the basket, this one larger than some of the rest. A cheery yellow and orange sun stared back at him. Hebrews 11:1 was printed across the bright body, and it must have been one of the rocks they had done later in the night, for this one had the entire verse written there. Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.

  Faith. It all came down to faith. Faith that Peter would talk again. Faith that Jamie was doing right by the boy. Faith that one day Leah would see the two of them the way he did and not as an impossibility. Faith that it would all turn out in the end.

  But after a while faith could wane, falter, fall. Then where did that leave him?

  Maybe he was looking at this all wrong. Maybe it wasn’t about faith, but about hanging on to the sure deal. Was he damaging Peter further by not forcing him to speak? Should he have taken him to a head doctor, as Leah had suggested? Or was he making paths where there were none?

  He never should have agreed to the Yoders’ terms, but what was done was done. But that didn’t mean he had to give up without a fight. And fight he would. For Leah and for Peter. For them all.

  * * *

  “I heard you had a date last night,” Gracie said as they sat around the kitchen table adding fragrances to the four-ounce bottles of goat milk lotion.

  Gracie was in charge of lavender, while Leah wielded the orange and Hannah the peppermint. They had decided to give each fragrance a small run to see how they would sell. Already these three fragrances had been the most popular, selling out in the first week. Lemon peppermint, rosemary mint, and lavender eucalyptus were still hanging in there, but not selling as quickly as the pure fragrances. They had decided to take today and build up that stock before moving on and experimenting with the soaps.

  For Leah, this endeavor was almost as thrilling as opening the store. She had wanted to make a place that could afford her a living, but also serve the community. Adding the goat milk products to the shop only added to that. It helped her store, brought in traffic, helped her mother, and gave her time with her sister and cousin—time she had missed when she had been away. She might not feel like she could join the church and step back into her Amish life, but she was grateful for any time she could spend with family.

  “I did not have a date,” she said emphatically. Almost too emphatically. She winced as Hannah and Gracie noticed her slip.

  “I see. It wasn’t a date.” Hannah winked at Gracie, who took it up as she turned to Leah. “Jah, not a date at all. I see.”

  Leah shook her head. “I just wanted Jamie to see what my church is like, and I thought Peter would enjoy painting the rocks. That’s all.”

  “Sure.” Hannah nodded. “We understand.” She winked at Gracie, who offered an exaggerated copy right back.

  “Why don’t y’all believe me?” She shot them both an exasperated look.

  “Maybe because we’ve seen the two of you together,” Hannah explained.

  Gracie nodded in agreement.

  “What? Arguing?”

  “You may argue, but that’s only because you both have strong beliefs and even stronger personalities.”

  “And he’s Amish, and I’m Mennonite. He’s more conservative and thinks I’m too liberal.”

  Hannah shook her head. “Amish and Mennonite. It matters, but it doesn’t. You know what I mean?”

  She did and she didn’t. And one thing she understood above all others: it shouldn’t matter, but it did. “Jamie and I are friends.”

  Gracie and Hannah nodded politely.

  “Of course,” Gracie said. “How can it be any other way? After all, I heard he was heading back to Ethridge soon.”

  Leah’s heart fell. He hadn’t said anything to her about it last night, but she wouldn’t be surprised. He had picked up and left his life there. He had a fiancée—ex-fiancée—a sister, and aunts and uncles, she was sure. Peter probably had even more, if she took into account his mother’s family. What was keeping Jamie in Pontotoc? “He is?”

  Gracie shrugged. “I don’t know for a fact, but that’s what everyone is saying.”

  “Everyone being . . . ?” Hannah asked.

  “Sarah Hostetler for one. And I figure she knows, since Deborah King is staying with her.”

  And once upon a time, Deborah had meant something to Jamie.

  “Peter doesn’t like Deborah,” Leah said.

  “Yes, I know. I was there.” Gracie shot her a look.

  “I’m not sure Peter has much of a say in this,” Hannah added.

  And he wouldn’t, but Leah worried that Peter would regress if Jamie was getting back with Deborah. Yet there was nothing she could do about it. “Do you really think he’s moving back?”

  Gracie gave another quick shrug and looked to Hannah. “I wouldn’t know. Maybe the question you should ask is, what’s keeping him here?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jamie pulled his carriage to a stop and hopped to the ground. He looked back to Peter, who slouched in the back seat as if trying to disappear into the bench itself.

  He motioned for the boy to get down. “Come on.”

  Peter flinched, but otherwise didn’t move.

  “I know you’re not asleep. Come on. Get down.” He did everything he could to keep the exasperation
out of his voice. He was still so new at this parenting stuff, and he had no idea how to handle this one. But as soon as he got the mare put away and Peter settled in with some chores, he was marching down to see Eunice. Surely she would have some advice for him. She had raised five children, and barring the fact that three of them left the Amish at some point in their lives, they hadn’t turned out too bad.

  Head bowed, Peter climbed down from the carriage and dragged his feet as he trudged toward the house.

  “Get out the broom first thing,” Jamie said. “I want to be able to eat off that floor when I come back.”

  Peter didn’t acknowledge his words, but Jamie knew he heard him. They had already talked about this on the way home. First sweeping, then mopping, then Jamie would have to come up with something else. There wasn’t a lot to do in their two-room cabin, and Peter was going to be responsible for all of it for a long time after today’s meeting with the teacher.

  Jamie watched him disappear into the house, then sighed and unhitched the mare. Twenty-five minutes later, after the horse was watered and fed and he had checked on Peter, Jamie was on his way down to Eunice’s.

  He was almost to the bottom of the hill before he noticed Leah’s car parked off to one side. He was just about to turn around and head back the way he came when Eunice called out to him from the backyard.

  He’d been spotted. No turning back now. “Hi, Eunice,” he called in return. Plus, going back home was a chicken move. How could he help Peter if he was avoiding Leah?

  “What brings you down today?” She snapped the sheet to release the wrinkles, then hung it on the line. Tuesday must be linens day. Eunice had the line swaying with towels and bedding.

  “Peter.” He heaved a great sigh. “He’s having trouble in school.”

  Eunice stopped gathering up the dry laundry she had taken off the line and eyed him. “I thought he was doing good.”

  “Me too. But I went to get him today and Amanda said he had been running around and acting up all day.”

  “And yesterday he was fine?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. She mentioned that he had been struggling a bit. She thinks the kids have been teasing him. She hasn’t heard it herself, but she said that he seemed fine, then everything changed.”