A Love for Leah

by Amy Lillard

  “When did this change happen?”

  Jamie shrugged. “Middle of September, maybe.”

  “Did something happen then?” Eunice asked. She picked up her basket of clean clothes and started for the house. Jamie took it from her and walked beside her the whole way.

  “I don’t think so. I mean, not that I can remember.”

  “All I know to do is pray,” she said, opening the back door and urging him inside. He didn’t want to go. What if Leah was inside? Of course she was. He would see her, say hello, and act like last night wasn’t the best night of his life. Well, was the best night of his life until he found out that she had shared his business with her church. Then things had taken a turn. But up until then . . .

  And after he had made a problem where there should have been none. Why? His own stupid pride. Leah thought he needed prayers, which he took to mean he was less of a man, he wasn’t together, he didn’t have his life all figured out. He was weak.

  He was stupid, that’s what he was. He had been trying to show her all that they could have together, and he’d all but picked an argument with her over a generous gesture on her part.

  “I’ve tried that.”

  Eunice shot him a quick smile. “Prayer isn’t something you try and move on to the next thing. Pray without ceasing. In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you,” she quoted.

  Thessalonians, if he remembered correctly, though he couldn’t recall the exact chapter or verse. It had been one of his mother’s favorites. Whenever he had a problem, even at his age, she told him to take it to the Lord in prayer. So why did this problem seem like it was too much to be solved by prayer alone? Because it was important. It wasn’t just his life at stake. It was Peter’s. Parenting was an awesome responsibility, and he doubted every day if he’d really be able to see this through. He had the desire in his heart; he just didn’t know if he had the ability in him as well.

  “Hey, Jamie,” Hannah greeted as he carried the basket into the house and set it on the kitchen table. This table wasn’t as large as the one in the dining room, and as far as Jamie could tell, was used more for cooking preparations and quick snacks. Today it made a great place to set clean laundry.

  “Hi,” he returned.

  “Where’s Peter?” she asked.

  He sighed, then straightened, his disposition immediately improving. “You have Brandon,” he said.

  “Yeeesss,” she said slowly, her smile stiff.

  “No, I mean . . .” He shook his head. “Peter’s having some trouble in school, and I’m pretty new at the whole parenting thing. I have no idea what I should do.”

  “What kind of trouble?” Hannah asked.

  Before he could answer, Eunice bustled them to the door that led into the dining room. “You two sit down. I’ll bring in some coffee. Go on, now.”

  And his worst fear was realized as he stepped into the dining room.

  Leah sat at the table with Gracie, each intent on the bottles they had lined up on either side of themselves. Leah was adding what appeared to be drops of essential oils while Gracie wiped down the bottles and added a label with the name and contents.

  “Look who’s here,” Gracie said as she continued to wipe bottles.

  “Hi.”

  “Jamie just told me that Peter’s having trouble in school.”

  He started to protest at Hannah’s familiarity, but none of them seemed surprised. It occurred to him then: that was what this family was all about. It might have taken years to get them all here and together now—minus Tillie, of course—but they were a family unit that pulled together and helped one another. Perhaps that was why Hannah and Leah were able to return to a life that had once been theirs.

  But if that was the case, then why did Leah feel that she couldn’t join the church? Granted, the Mennonite church she attended seemed like a great place for worship and fellowship. He had walked in and immediately felt welcome. He couldn’t always say that about his Amish church home. Things had been a little different since he had come to Pontotoc, but that was simply because he was on the fringes. One of them, but not one of them. Not yet anyway.

  “Sit down,” Gracie commanded. “Tell us what’s going on.”

  He sat and explained the situation to them. Halfway to the end of his tale, Eunice bustled in with coffee and cookies. Everyone grabbed a snack as he continued on to the end.

  “Middle of September, huh?” Gracie mused. “That was the Bodock Festival, jah?”

  Jamie had almost forgotten about the festival. “Jah, I suppose.”

  “Did something happen during that time?” Hannah asked.

  As they talked, the women continued their work. It was something he had learned from the other women in his life. Amish women didn’t have much time to sit still, even if it was to help a friend. His mamm and mammi had always been up to something: canning, chopping, cooking, preserving. “Busy hands,” his mammi used to always say.

  “Not that I recall.” But honestly, the days had started to blend one into the other.

  Leah snapped her fingers. “That was when Deborah came down.”

  “Oh, jah.” Gracie nodded. “I remember now.”

  It had only been a couple of weeks before. So why did those few events seem like a lifetime ago? Because he had been living a lifetime in each day, loving Leah when he knew there would never be more than right now between them? Sounded logical enough.

  “Deborah came down, and Peter got into trouble?” Leah asked. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

  “He hasn’t been in any trouble since then. At least none that I know about. This is the first time that I’ve had to have a conference with the teacher. And just between us, I don’t think she wants him back in her classroom.”

  “Oh, Jamie.” This from Leah.

  Jamie held up one hand to stop her words. “It’s okay. Lesson learned.”

  “It’s not okay. He’s a special little boy, and he’s obviously hurting very badly to misbehave on purpose,” Leah continued.

  On purpose? “I don’t think . . .” He let the words trail away. Had Peter acted out on purpose? Because of Deborah?

  “Where’s Peter now?” Leah asked.

  Jamie jerked a thumb over one shoulder. “At the house doing chores.”

  “Do you want me to talk to him?” Leah asked.

  “I’m not sure what good it will do.”

  Leah pushed herself to her feet, grabbed a couple of the cookies, and folded them into a paper napkin. “Stay here. Let me see what I can do.”

  * * *

  The stricken look on Jamie’s face stayed with her on the short walk up the hill to his cabin. Leah knocked twice, then let herself inside.

  “Peter,” she called as she stepped over the threshold. He was nowhere in the front of the house, so she made her way to his newly built room. In the couple of weeks that he had been there, he had made the space his own. He had even tacked a picture of a dog onto his wall. It was a golden retriever, just like he had lost in the fire.

  Peter himself was sprawled across the bed on his stomach, face hidden in his folded arms.

  “Peter?” she quietly asked. Was he asleep? Should she wake him? “Peter, sit up so I can talk to you.”

  He must not have been asleep. He pushed himself into a sitting position, wiping the back of one scarred hand against his eyes. Whether he was swiping away sleep or tears, she didn’t know.

  “I hear you had a bad time at school today.”

  He nodded, but kept his gaze trained on his lap.

  Leah eased farther into the room and sat on the end of the bed next to him.

  “Can you tell me about it?”

  He shook his head.

  “Peter.” She used her tone as a warning. “You and I both know that you can talk, but that you won’t. How are you supposed to tell folks around you what you need if you don’t use your words?”

  He gave a rippling shrug.

  “I ha
ve a feeling you needed something from the teacher yesterday, and you were disruptive instead of talking. Am I right?”

  He started shaking his head, then switched and nodded instead.

  Tears pricked the backs of Leah’s eyes. The boy could speak. She had heard him. So why did he tell her that he didn’t like Deborah, but when he truly needed something, he kept the words to himself?

  “There has to be another way, Peter.” Except the boy couldn’t write his words. He could make letters and numbers, but his thoughts were trapped inside his own head. Well, for the most part. He could tell her that he didn’t like Deborah, something that held no bearing, but he couldn’t express other needs.

  “The words fail you,” Leah whispered. “You can’t bring the important words out, can you? They’re stuck in your brain, buried in the memories of the accident.”

  He dropped his chin to his chest. It was more than enough answer for her.

  “Look at me, Peter.”

  He tilted his chin back up and his gaze met hers.

  “We will get through this. I’ll talk to Jamie. We’ll come up with a plan to help you.” Lord knew, he had suffered long enough.

  * * *

  “What are you saying?” Jamie asked half an hour or so later.

  Leah had kissed Peter on the forehead, given him the cookies she had brought, then hurried back down the hill to talk to Jamie. “We both know Peter can talk.”

  He nodded, but the puckered frown remained on his forehead.

  “But his words are all jumbled up with his memories of that night.”

  “So he can’t speak because of the memories?”

  “Sort of. He just can’t wade through all of that when he really needs to. Those memories shut down his speech when he really needs them.”

  “So why doesn’t he speak when he can?”

  “My guess is he doesn’t even try. It’s too frustrating for him.”

  Jamie sighed and sat back into the swing.

  Leah could only imagine how he felt; how overwhelming it would be to have a child with problems like Peter’s and not know how to help him. “There is that doctor who goes to my church.”

  “A doctor?”

  “I told you about him once.”

  But Jamie shook his head. “I can’t take him to that kind of doctor.” He said the words as if the man were a witch doctor instead of medically trained. She knew that it was just Jamie’s conservative nature. Her father would have behaved the same way. But it was frustrating nonetheless.

  “Promise me you’ll think about it,” she asked quietly. “Peter deserves better than to be locked in his own head.”

  For a moment she thought he might protest, then he slowly nodded. “Jah,” he finally said. “I’ll think about it, but nothing more.”

  * * *

  He hadn’t meant to fib to Leah. He did one more thing to help Peter, and that was pray about it. But these days it almost seemed as if God wasn’t listening. Or perhaps Jamie wasn’t getting his answer quickly enough. Patience was a virtue, or so they said, but he was so worried about Peter that Jamie was finding it impossible to be anything other than exasperated. He needed to know the way, and he needed it right now.

  The next day was Wednesday, and Jamie was loath to send him to school. The teacher hadn’t said that Peter was not able to come back, but Jamie could tell that the young woman was reluctant. She had tried to help Peter, but once he became a hindrance to the other students, everything changed.

  “I guess you’re hanging out with me today, buddy,” Jamie said over breakfast.

  Peter nodded and took an overlarge bite of his cereal. Jamie hated giving the boy food out of a box, but they were both tired of eating scrambled eggs. It might be the only thing Jamie could cook without ruining, but prepared correctly or not, eggs every day grew tiresome.

  Peter didn’t look overly upset about not going to school. Then again, what kid would miss it? No one liked school except the really smart kids who knew all the answers and the teacher’s pets, who were usually one and the same.

  “I promised Abner I’d help him with a new shed today. You can take your tablet down and write out your letters and numbers while you sit on the front porch. You can take your reader out there as well. No going into the house and eating all the cookies today either. You do that too many times and you’ll ruin your supper but good.”

  Peter nodded, then they said their after-meal prayer, and he took his bowl to the sink. A few minutes later he was equipped with his markers and notepad for writing.

  Jamie grabbed his hat, and together the two of them headed for the Gingeriches’. Having Peter out of school for whatever reason didn’t sit well with him. He felt like he was short-changing the boy. His education might just be starting, but it was starting. It was Jamie’s job as his guardian to see it through.

  The idea of online school flitted through his head. He shook it away. He was Amish. He couldn’t enroll Peter in a computer school. They didn’t have electricity or all that other fancy stuff people needed for that sort of thing.

  Brandon and Leah do. Well, they had a way to make it work. Was that what he needed? A plan to make it work?

  He couldn’t fathom. He was Amish. He’d been born that way, raised that way, and he would die that way. It was hard to shake such hard-learned lessons. Even if he wanted to. And who said he did? He merely wanted Peter to have a decent life, a chance despite everything that stood in his way.

  And so much was in his way.

  He looked down at the boy who strode along beside him, his short legs and pronounced limp leaving him struggling to keep up.

  Jamie slowed a bit to help, but didn’t say a word about it.

  Leah’s offer to talk to one of the people, a head doctor, in her church once again came to the front of his mind. Was it possible? Was it godly? He wasn’t sure such a study would be. People were born with problems all the time. It was part of God’s will. As Amish they accepted it and moved on. How could he call this anything other than God’s will as well? How could he justify tampering with Peter’s mind in such a way? Did he have the right? Was it even holy?

  Those were answers he didn’t have. The one thing he did have? Faith. And that was going to have to see them through. He was going to pray; pray without ceasing until he had his answer. Then and only then would be know what to do.

  * * *

  “Excuse me? Do you have this in grapefruit?”

  Leah looked from the lady to the bottle of lotion she held. “I’m sorry, I don’t currently, but I can get you a bottle in a day or so.”

  Ever since she had put the bottles of her mother’s goat milk lotion on the front wall just inside the window of the shop, people had been asking about it nonstop. Yesterday she, Hannah, and Gracie had made more bottles of lotion, and today they were flying off the shelves.

  “Would you?” the woman gushed. “My friend has the lavender. I love how it feels on my skin, but lavender smells like my grandmother.” She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my grandmother. I just don’t want to smell like her.”

  Leah smiled sympathetically. Her mammi smelled like liniment and cinnamon. She didn’t want to smell like that either. “Do you want pure grapefruit or a combination? Like vanilla grapefruit or eucalyptus grapefruit?”

  The woman paused. “Are you making this just for me?”

  Leah gave a quick shrug. “It’s no problem. I can mix it up in the next day or so. If you like. You just need to tell me what you want the smell to be like, and I’ll have it for you by Friday for sure.”

  The woman’s smile was so bright it would have dimmed Independence Day fireworks. “I’ve never had my own fragrance before.”

  “I guess not many people have,” Leah said.

  “Can you make grapefruit, orange, and vanilla?”

  “Of course.”

  “And the cost?” the woman asked.

  “It’s the same.”

  “I’ll take it. Marjorie Hale.” Sh
e reached out a hand to shake.

  Leah took it and introduced herself.

  “And you own this place?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell all my friends. That is, if you’re willing to make them each a signature fragrance.”

  Signature fragrance? “I don’t see why not.”

  Marjorie smiled. “Good. Good. But just between you and me, you could charge twice that, and everyone will still clamor to buy it.”

  * * *

  “Are you serious?” Gracie asked later that afternoon. Once Brandon had finished his schoolwork, Leah had asked him and Shelly to mind the store so she could come out and talk to her new business partners.

  “I’m ashamed that I didn’t think of it,” Hannah said. “It’s brilliant.”

  “Being back with the Amish has made you soft,” Leah said. They all laughed.

  “I mean really, it’s the perfect opportunity there in town. And if women can come in and design a fragrance all their own, how amazing is that?” Hannah asked.

  Gracie’s brow puckered. “Very?” she asked hesitantly.

  Leah smiled. “Right answer.” Unlike Leah and Hannah, Gracie hadn’t spent any time in the I-am-different-and-special Englisch world. The Amish strove for togetherness, community, and sameness. Standing out wasn’t encouraged. In fact, it was frowned upon. She had heard many an Englischer comment that by being the same, the Amish stood apart. That was irony at its finest. But if she were going to be in town and running the shop, what better way to promote the fragrances than with a custom fragrance bar to appeal to the women who wanted to stand apart from their peers?

  “What about sales?” Hannah asked. “I mean, the single fragrances seem to be selling better than anything else.”

  “Right.” Leah nodded. “We keep those, even the ones mixed two to a bottle, like lavender vanilla. Those will always be good sellers. This is something different.”

  “And we’re just going to make lotions?” Gracie asked.

  “We don’t have to. We can offer whatever product we have in the fragrance. Goat milk soap. Or even sulfate-free shampoos and conditioners.”