A Love for Leah

by Amy Lillard

  “Come on, Teddy,” the man called to the dog.

  Teddy followed behind him, waiting patiently as he opened the car door. Then Teddy disappeared inside, popping up again once the door was closed behind him. He propped his feet up on the side and let out a bark Jamie could barely hear, tail wagging the entire time.

  “No!”

  Jamie whirled around, startled by the sound coming from behind him.

  Peter was in motion. “Noooooooo,” he cried, hobbling down the porch steps and across the yard.

  By now the couple had gotten into their car and started to back away. Their intention was clear: they were leaving with the dog.

  Peter kept coming, bellowing, “No! No! Nooooooo!”

  The man stopped the car as Jamie snaked out one arm and caught Peter, pulling him close.

  “It’s okay,” Jamie said, wrapping his arms around Peter as he continued to struggle. Each word he spoke was like a double-edged blade to his heart. Peter was speaking, something he had prayed over for months, but he was hurting, devastated even by the loss he was faced with once again. His anguish rolled off him, sending ripples through the air.

  The man hesitated, his expression clearly stating that he had eyes and he could see and everything was far from okay. But he pressed his lips together and gave a quick nod.

  “It’s not fairrrrrrrrr!” Peter howled. “It’s not righttttttt!”

  Jamie held him in his arms until the car had disappeared. Once released, Peter ran in his stumbling gait toward the road, even though the car was gone. Halfway there he tripped and fell. He landed hard on the ground and lay there, facedown, tiny shoulders shaking with his sobs.

  * * *

  One thing was certain. She couldn’t carry on this way.

  Leah had spent the morning straightening racks, restocking the lotions and soaps, and thinking about Jamie. She had thought that she could have him as a friend, but the more she knew about him, the more she cared about him. The more she wanted to know about him. The deeper her feelings ran. Until the obvious was staring her in the face: any relationship she could have with Jamie Stoltzfus would only leave her heartbroken. Was that something she could handle? She wasn’t entirely sure. She wanted to spend time with him, she wanted to know him even better, be his friend in all ways. To triumph when he did and mourn alongside him. But one big obstacle stood in their way. Church. Not God, but religion. However, that was a big obstacle in their world.

  After she had left the Amish she had heard tales, and even gone to see a movie or two, about people of different religions who fell in love and, against all the odds standing in their way, managed to find a compromise to their beliefs. They managed to find a way to be together.

  But, she reminded herself, that was only fiction. In the real world, the writers didn’t have control over the endings; they couldn’t manipulate the story to conclude the way they wanted. In the real world, it was up to God and to the people involved.

  She pulled a green dress off the clothing rack and shook it out. It was an Amish dress, somehow mixed in with the Englisch ones. Even on a hanging bar it looked out of place. One among others. She trailed the fingers of one hand over the fabric. Could she do it? Could she go back to her Amish roots for love?

  Was it worth it? Was it noble? Would God understand that she did it for love?

  She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Joining the church in order to marry someone in that church seemed to cheapen both the religion and the relationship. How could she pray to God knowing that she had compromised both by bending her knee in front of the congregation?

  It simply wasn’t something she could do.

  Nor could she remain friends with Jamie, see him day after day, and know that they would never have anything more than friendship. The idea broke her heart. And if not for her shop and Brandon, she would pick up and go somewhere, anywhere so she wouldn’t have to face it all.

  She walked the dress to the back and hung it amid the other Amish garments she stored for trade. Running away wasn’t the answer. But it had become her habit. She had run away with her sister, then run away from her, left the country running away from God, then back again. This time she could not run. She would not.

  “Now that’s a face.”

  She turned as a woman approached. Deborah King, Jamie’s one-time sweetheart. “Sorry,” Leah murmured, chagrined that she hadn’t even heard the woman come in. She had to get herself out of these thoughts and back into the world she actually inhabited.

  “Can I help you today?” Leah asked.

  Deborah smiled and held up a grocery sack. “I came to bring you some clothes to add to your donation stash.”

  “Thank you.” Leah took the sack from her and glanced into it. There on the top was one of the very dresses that Deborah had taken when she had first come in. She looked back to the woman, questions in her eyes.

  Deborah shrugged. “I’m going back home to Tennessee. I have plenty of things there.”

  “I see.” But not quite. Hadn’t she vowed to stay until Jamie decided to go back with her? Had something happened last night after the wedding? He hadn’t said anything when she had dropped by to see him, but the whole visit had been beyond awkward. Perhaps she had been so lost in her own thoughts and emotions that she hadn’t seen what was right in front of her face.

  “You win.”

  Leah’s attention jerked back to Deborah. “What? I win?”

  “I saw how he looked at you. Even Sarah noticed it.” She gave a tight smile.

  “You’re mistaken,” Leah said. “We aren’t a couple. We never could be.” Why were those words so hard to say out loud? “He’s Amish, and I’m Mennonite.”

  Deborah shook her head. “‘There are none so blind,’” she paraphrased.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I wouldn’t let a little something like that keep me from a man like Jamie Stoltzfus. Danki for the clothes.” She turned on her heel and marched toward the door, leaving Leah staring after her.

  * * *

  “Thank you for coming up here,” Jamie whispered to Gracie. She was such a help and never seemed put-upon when asked for a favor.

  “You’re welcome, of course,” she whispered in return.

  Jamie wasn’t sure why they were being quiet. Peter had cried himself to sleep calling for Leah, howling that it wasn’t fair, and otherwise screaming no over and over. Jamie had wanted Peter to speak, but not like this. Never like this.

  “Go on into town,” she said. “I’ll be here if he wakes up, poor boy.”

  “I appreciate that, Gracie. I really do.”

  “My pleasure,” she said in return. “Now, don’t worry, and I’ll see you when you get back.”

  He nodded, grabbed his hat, hitched up his mare, and headed for town.

  He was torn between his two errands. Which one should he handle first? In the end, he headed for Twice Blessed, only to find that Leah had left Brandon and Shelly in charge of the store while she had gone on an errand. That could mean almost anything. Jamie thanked Brandon and headed for his second stop. The Second Street Mennonite Church.

  There were several cars in the parking lot when he pulled up, but no horse and buggies. He parked next to a chain-link fence and tethered the horse to the top bar, praying nothing spooked her. She was a fine horse and never prone to skittishness, but he felt as if he were fighting uphill. Everything seemed hard, and his horse taking off, buggy in tow, through the town of Pontotoc would be the topper of the day.

  He looked at the church building, trying to decide which way to go in. He had heard people talking on Sunday about the activities and had even seen a few in the church bulletin Peter had been thumbing through. The Second Street Mennonite Church was an “every day” church because there was something to do there every day. And it seemed as if today was no exception. The two times he had been there he had gone in different doors. Somewhere in the middle was the pastor’s office. Jamie said a little prayer that Pastor Joel was in tod
ay and not out doing hospital rounds or home visits that he had heard about last sermon. He had missed Leah, and he needed advice. Badly.

  With a sigh, he opened the side door to the rec hall and stepped inside. The interior was cool and quiet. He could hear muffled voices and children’s laughter, but it seemed far away, removed by many walls. He remembered the way from Sunday and wound through the main room, past the Sunday School rooms, and into the carpeted section of the church. Sandwiched between the sanctuary and the rec hall was a line of offices he was told belonged to the pastor and the rest of the full-time church staff. Jamie walked the hallway, reading the names on each door. At the end, on the left, was a door marked Joel Penner, Pastor.

  Please let him be here.

  Otherwise, Jamie didn’t have a clue how to proceed. He raised a hand and knocked on the door.

  “Can I help you?”

  He whirled around as the pastor made his way down the hall toward him.

  “I—I was hoping I could talk to you about something.” He took off his hat and twirled it in his hands, clutching the brim as he fidgeted.

  “Of course.” Pastor Joel shot him an understanding smile. It was comforting, even though Jamie knew he didn’t understand. How could he understand something that Jamie himself didn’t comprehend?

  The man unlocked the door, flipped on the light, and motioned for Jamie to follow him.

  He did, easing into the room as if it contained venomous snakes. Relax. You’re just asking. It doesn’t mean anything else. In fact, you don’t even have to ask about that. You can ask about the doctor and let the rest be. Saved by grace. How could he believe in something so arrogant?

  “What can I do you for?” Pastor Joel eased behind his desk and sat in the large leather chair. It was worn, well-used, and must have been there since the church was first built. Somehow, that was comforting. They weren’t some fly-by-night religion. Not if they had a chair that old.

  As silly as it even seemed to him, Jamie felt himself relax. Just a bit.

  “I need to ask you about a member of the church. Leah—Leah told me about him. He’s a head doctor. He helps children, I think.”

  Pastor Joel nodded. “I think I know who you’re talking about.” He waved toward the chair in front of his desk. “Go ahead. Have a seat.”

  Jamie looked to the chair and back to the pastor. He hesitated.

  It looked safe enough. And so did he. He was fairly tall, of average build, with sandy blond hair in an Englisch cut and a finely trimmed mustache. He smiled when he talked, revealing lines at the corners of his brown eyes. Lines that said he smiled a lot. Or at least, that was what Jamie thought.

  He eased down into the chair, but remained ready to pop back up again. He had to stay. He had to help Peter. But he couldn’t stay long. He didn’t want to leave the boy for any longer than necessary.

  “I need him to help me with my nephew.”

  Pastor Joel nodded. “The boy who was with you on Sunday?”

  He remembered them? Jamie shook his head at the wonder of it all, then realized what he was doing and nodded instead. “I have custody of him for a time.” He went on to explain about the fire, the death of Peter’s family, and the promise he had made to Sally’s parents. He finished his story with the morning’s tragic tale of puppy love gone wrong.

  The pastor nodded as Jamie spoke, listened intently, and otherwise kept an open expression. He didn’t once ask why Jamie didn’t take this to his bishop. He didn’t turn him away since he wasn’t a member of the church. He listened. In the end, he took out a piece of paper and wrote something on it, then pushed it across the desk to Jamie. “I’ll call Bill and tell him that you think he might be able to help you and young Peter.”

  Jamie nearly wept with relief. He wasn’t sure what he had expected in coming here, but it surely wasn’t this open, caring, loving attitude. He cleared his throat and stood. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime.” Pastor Joel smiled, his entire face creasing in those smile wrinkles.

  Jamie turned for the door, half the weight that had been holding him down releasing. At least now he could breathe.

  But at the door he stopped. There were two numbers written on the page.

  “What’s this second one?” he asked.

  Pastor Joel smiled. “That’s the number for Max Myron. He’s a good friend of mine and a fine member of this church. He runs the Randolph Animal Shelter. He’ll find you another dog, and a good one at that.”

  * * *

  Jamie drove away from the church, the small piece of yellow paper nearly burning a hole in his pocket.

  He was a chicken. Plain and simple. A coward of gigantic proportions. All he had to do was ask. That was all. Didn’t Jesus himself say ask, and ye shall receive? So why had he kept quiet?

  Because he hadn’t figured out how the God he had grown up with and the God he had heard about in the Mennonite church could be one and the same.

  There had to be a way. How could he stop believing in one God and start believing in another? It just didn’t make any sense, and frankly it was starting to make his head hurt.

  But there was something about the message for Sunday’s sermon that spoke to a different part of him. That part that struggled to pay attention in church, that part that wanted to question what he had been taught, or at the very least ask questions. But questioning the elders had always been frowned upon—at least by his family. He had never wanted to embarrass his mudder and vatter, so he’d kept quiet until keeping quiet was nothing more than a Sunday habit.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Leah pulled her car into the drive at her parents’ house and stopped at the end of the lane. She wanted to talk to Jamie, but she wasn’t going to allow herself that. Not until she had a few things straightened out in her own mind. No matter. His buggy wasn’t in sight, so she could only suppose he had gone somewhere.

  At least now she would have time to talk to Hannah. That was, if her sister was home.

  Leah shut off the car, said a little prayer that her sister was there and got out of the car.

  Thankfully, Hannah heard her and met her on the porch. “Driving a little fast today, aren’t you, sis?”

  “I need to talk to you,” she said.

  Hannah stopped. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. No, not sure.” Leah shook her head. “How did you know?”

  “What?” Hannah frowned. “Have you been in the sun too long?” she asked. “It’s October, but this is Mississippi. Heatstroke is still possible this time of year.”

  Leah drew up short and pulled in a deep breath. “How did you know that you wanted to become Amish again?”

  “It’s not like I ever stopped being Amish,” Hannah said.

  Leah held up her hands to stay her sister’s words. “Spare me all the philosophy. How did you know? Did you say, I want to be Amish again because I love Aaron and I want to marry him; this is the only way it’ll be possible? Or did you say, I love Aaron and the only way I can marry him is to be Amish again; guess I’ll do that?” She sucked in another breath, nearly winded from her ongoing tirade.

  Hannah studied her for a few minutes, then wrapped her hand around Leah’s arm, then marched her back down the porch steps.

  Many a conversation had been had right there, sitting in the porch swing, but Hannah led her across the yard, past Jim and Anna’s house, and all the way down to the pond.

  “Why are you asking me these things?” she whispered.

  “Why are you being so quiet?” Leah asked. “You dragged me down here so no one can overhear us.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I—I don’t know. It just seems like something you don’t want anyone overhearing.”

  She was right about that, but desperation had loosened her tongue and increased her impulsiveness. Another reason why she needed to think all this through.

  “Well?” Hannah propped her hands on her hips and leveled her gaze to Leah’s.

  “I need to know.” She couldn’t
say more. She couldn’t risk it all. Not even with her sister.

  “I wanted to be Amish again. But I suppose it was all part of the package. I had wanted to come back for so long. It took losing Mitch to free me. Once I came back . . .”

  “Then you knew you wanted to stay.”

  Hannah nodded. “Is that how you feel?”

  Did she? Leah shook her head. “I want to stay, but I’m happy in my church. I love my shop, the lotions, and the donations to help the needy families. I don’t think I could do all that if I joined the church.” But it was more than that. “I feel like this is where I belong.”

  “With the Mennonites?”

  Leah nodded.

  “Then there’s your answer.”

  “But—”

  “Jamie.” Hannah gave a knowing nod.

  Leah felt her heart crack, nearly break. How could love hurt so bad? Wasn’t it supposed to be good, pure and true? Then why did it have the power to harm?

  “Do you love him?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, but didn’t say the rest: sometimes love wasn’t enough.

  “He loves you too, you know.”

  “You think so?” Tears welled in her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. “Like it matters. There can never be anything between us.”

  “You can’t believe that.”

  But she did. How else could it be?

  “You should talk to him,” Hannah said gently.

  “Talking won’t change anything. I can’t ask him to leave the church. He can’t ask me to join. There is no middle ground.”

  “What are you going to do now?” Hannah asked.

  “I was hoping you could give me some answers.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Some big sister you are.” Leah tried to laugh at her own attempt at humor, as bad as it was.

  “Love,” Hannah said. “Love is always the answer.”

  “Don’t you mean God?” Leah asked.

  “Well, sister, God is love.”

  * * *

  Leah hugged her sister goodbye and got in her car about half an hour later. I John 4:8. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.

  It was a verse she solidly believed in. God gave them love. Which meant it was part of God. So why was hers and Jamie’s destined for nowhere? There was more to it. There had to be.