Loving And Letting Go: An Amish Christian Romance

by Melanie Schmidt

  "Ya. Thank you. How does my being sad help you, though?"

  "I just want to figure out what sets off your disordered thinking, even when you're on medication... ah, come on in, Mike. John's in here and I'd like you to meet him. John, Mike's going to be your therapist. I asked him to join us so we could talk about how you're feeling right now, and how we can use this to help you get better and return home," said the doctor.

  John turned and saw a short but muscular man, sporting long, dark hair sprinkled with gray. The therapist's hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, something that shocked John. Mike bore tattoos on his forearms and carried a slim notebook with a pen stuck in the top.

  Mike closed the door and walked quickly to John with one hand outstretched,

  "John, pleased to meet you. Mike Cedillo at your service. I know your parents went back home a little while ago, and that must be hard for you. Would you like to talk about it?"

  "Mike - Cedillo? No offense, but what kind - what nationality is your name?" John asked curiously.

  "No offense taken, man. I'm Hispanic. My family comes from Spain by way of Mexico, although about three or four generations have been U.S. citizens. I'm from New Mexico, originally, but I decided I wanted to settle on the East Coast."

  "Oh... Again, no offense, but you're the first Hispanic I've ever met," said John, looking Mike over carefully.

  "Let's just continue being honest, OK? Just like I need to know as much as possible about you as possible, you need to know as much as possible about me. I think that'll help you get more comfortable with me and make it easier for you to trust me. I'm all about trust and honesty, in session and out. Anything you don't like, speak up. Just don't go after me - bum knee here," Mike said patting one leg.

  John was amazed. He pursed his lips thinking, then nodded slowly.

  "OK, ya. I like that. OK, then. Mamm and daed left so they wouldn't get caught in the storm. They have to go home by buggy and they're facing about a two-hour trip. I... didn't come here voluntarily, so I miss them and my friends in Peace Crossing. The nurse came in and told me to come down here, but all I wanted to do was stay in bed and feel sorry for myself. She told me that the more you and Doctor Jackson know about me, the sooner I'll get away from the hospital food here, so..." John shrugged.

  For a split-second of time, Mike was quiet, then he threw his head back and laughed boisterously, filling the small office with the sound of his mirth.

  "Yeah, John, I can relate. Hospital food definitely doesn't taste very good. That's as good a reason as any to want out of here. Tell me, is there any other reason you want to go home?"

  "Other than the food? Being with my family. Working," said John. "The hospital is your... your boss, so how can you make fun of their food? Won't you get in trouble?"

  "Shoot, no! The cafeteria manager's not my boss, so I can be honest about the fact that the food here sucks. I bring my lunch in from home, anyway," said Mike. "Any other reason?"

  John gazed around the room, beginning to feel a little edgy. What is he looking for? What does he want me to say?

  "Uh... do you want me to say something that shows just how 'crazy' I am?"

  "No, I just want you to be honest about what you're thinking and feeling. See, John, the more I know about that, the more I can fill Doctor Jackson in. He specializes in the physical makeup of your brain while I specialize in what you think and feel. When we put all that together, we can see just how well your medication is working. We need to make sure that the dosages you're getting are just right so you don't suffer from side effects. Too much and you get those. Too little and your symptoms could break through and cause problems for you and those you love. Not good, dude." Mike said, raising one hand into the air.

  "OK. What if... if it's hard for me to share what I'm feeling? I never have before, so..."

  "And that might be where things began to get really out of control for you. See, if you had felt like you could say, 'Hey, my thoughts are getting kind of weird, here,' you might have been able to get help a lot sooner, on an outpatient basis. And, once you went home the first time and began thinking bad thoughts about the pills, if you'd been able to express those, you might have avoided another mental meltdown. I'm gonna' be real honest with you, John. It's going to take time for the staff here to fine-tune your dosage. You're not going to go home for at least a month, if not longer. I know that upsets you - and that's natural, so let's use that time together, you and I, and get you fixed up to the point where you won't have to come back again. I mean, sure, you're going to have some hard days. I'll be there for you. And, that's another thing. You don't drive, so I'll be driving to your home to work with you. Anything I can do to help you stay healthy and at home. Does that work for you?" Mike finished, looking closely at John's reactions.

  John, hearing that he wouldn't be going home any time soon, felt the news as a punch to his gut. He gasped as if he'd actually been physically punched and felt tears starting to well in his eyes. Clenching his fists, he struggled to regain his composure.

  "John? Talk to me," Mike ordered.

  John gasped a few more times, trying to get control over his emotions.

  "That long? I'm a carpenter! I have customers..."

  "Can someone call them for you and let them know you've had a medical emergency? They don't have to know what that emergency is," Mike said. "Listen. My aim is to get you out of here as emotionally and mentally healthy as possible. My guess is that this is your goal, too. I already know you don't like being here, so let's make our goal to get you out of here. John, let's work together, on the same team," Mike said, an urgent note in his voice. He leaned forward, feeling the need to communicate his message to John.

  Something must have sunk into John's mind because, after one last heaving gasp of air, he opened his eyes and unclenched his hands. Nodding once sharply, he spoke.

  "OK. I'm stuck here, so I may as well. That - that stinks that I have to be here that long. Up here, in my mind, I know why, but my heart is calling me home. Ya. I'll call my daed and have him call my customers. Maybe they'll accept waiting another month or more. Or, maybe they won't," John's voice trailed off. "Shall we talk about Rebecca Zook? I know she's who you want me to talk about. OK. I was courting with her and, for some strange reason, she decided..." John happened to look at Doctor Jackson and Mike. Seeing the looks on their faces, he stopped speaking.

  "John, when you first came back here, we got a full report of what you had been doing - driving all around Peace Crossing, looking for her, saying that she'd done wrong and that the Lord would take his vengeance on her. I'm no girl, but if I'd gotten wind of talk like that, I would have hidden, too," Mike said, all humor wiped from his face.

  John swallowed convulsively. He knew his secrets were about to be spilled out all over the floor.

  "What... what did I say? I don't -"

  "Remember?" Mike leaved through the sheets of paper in John's file. "Shall I read it to you? That'll actually help you begin to get a grip on your thinking when you're not being - rational. That's what I'm here to help you with."

  "Ya, I guess," John said, feeling apprehension building in his gut.

  "OK. I don't want to make you feel bad about yourself, so please keep that in mind, all right? This is only so you'll see what you say and do and, ultimately, what you're capable of. When you know, you can make a much stronger decision to get better, 'kay?"

  John only gave a terse nod, indicating that Mike should go on. His clenching and unclenching fists betrayed his tension.

  "OK, when the deputies brought you in, you had been found in your community, wandering around in your buggy. John, your horse was clearly exhausted, but you tried to get him to gallop from where you'd been found. Your family and friends told the deputies who detained you that you were saying stuff about this Rebecca, stuff that indicated you thought she'd been doing wrong and that God would wreak his vengeance on her. You said you had the 'right' to do so. That, because you w
ere courting her, you could control what she did. But her father made it clear to you and to us that she didn't want to court you.," Mike finished reading.

  John slumped lower in his chair, feeling confused. Had he really done that? Tried to get to Rebecca Zook so he could punish her? He looked up at Mike with his confusion.

  "Did I really do and say all that? I would never... ever try to hurt anyone like Rebecca. She's a good Amishwoman. She teaches. She helps her mamm out at home. I -I remember when she told me she didn't want me to court with me. That was before I came to the hospital the first time. Her daed made it clear that he didn't want me around her, either. After I went home, I... stopped taking my medicines because I thought they were made to stop me from loving Rebecca, so I decided I needed to stop. Lord, did I really frighten her that much? Did people think I was a danger to her?"

  Chapter 2

  "Yes, John, they did. I don't know how they managed to hide Rebecca that well, but, given how you were talking, it's good that they did. So, you never intended to hurt her. That's good. Tell me, just a couple days after coming back to the hospital, how do you think of her today?" Mike asked, continuing to lean forward.

  John thought for a few seconds.

  "She's a good woman, like I said. I don't want to hurt her or threaten her." He thought some more. Licking his lips, he spoke again. "If she doesn't want to court with me, I have to learn to deal with that. Mike, the Amish aren't a violent people. I'm not a violent man. I would never hurt anyone I know or love, and that includes Rebecca," he said.

  "So, how do you feel about her?" Mike's eyes bored into John's.

  "I like her. I messed things up with her in a huge way. She or her family won't let me love her, not in a courting sense. I will always respect her. I just... thought she was the right woman for me, but now it's becoming more and more clear to me that my illness had started at about that time. So, in a way, my illness messed things up for my hopes to court her and, eventually, marry her. And, Mike, I am being honest. I want to get out of here and go home, where I can eat my mamm's good cooking and be around my friends - without being a danger to them," said John. Like Mike, he was now leaning forward as he attempted to communicate honestly to Mike.

  "Well, now that I know how much you don't love the food here, I have a proposal for you. For every week that you make progress working with Doctor Jackson and me, why don't we talk to your mother and father and see if, maybe they can bring a good home cooked meal here for you? You're on no dietary restrictions, so they can bring whatever they want to you, if the weather permits," Mike suggested, looking at Doctor Jackson, who slowly nodded his head in approval.

  "You could do that? Really?" John asked, feeling his excitement mounting. It was such a minor thing, but having one home cooked meal a week really boosted his spirits.

  "Yes. But in return, John, you have to work with us. No lying about what you're thinking or feeling. If you start to get any weird thoughts about someone, if you feel like someone needs the Lord's vengeance, anything, you have to tell us. We'll work with you to adjust your medication and our talk therapy. The harder we all work, you included - the sooner you get sprung out of here," Mike said with a smile of encouragement.

  "John," said Doctor Jackson. "Your mind is functioning well now, but we're still working on adjusting your dosage. There is a likelihood that some of that disordered thinking could return. Mike's right. Tell us. We want to see you reach your goal of going home as soon as possible, but that won't happen if you don't speak up honestly and directly."

  "So, you mean, I could start thinking things that make no sense again?" John asked, feeling dismayed. He slumped in his chair.

  "Yes. We're being honest with you, just as we expect you to be with us. If we don't know how you're feeling or thinking, we can't adjust your dosages. There's another reason we have to keep you in here..."

  "Why is that? It'll be nigh on New Year's at the earliest before I can go home!" John said, feeling frustrated. Needing to move, he jumped up and began strode around the small office.

  "Yes, it will. It's not easy adjusting a dosage of medication correctly. I have a very narrow window that I can work with. Too little and your symptoms aren't controlled. Too much and you could start getting unwanted effects, such as tardive dyskinesia," said the doctor.

  "'Tardi-what?" John asked.

  "That's when you get uncontrolled movements of your body. Not a fun symptom, but much less serious than the thinking you were experiencing. I have to be very careful how much medication I ask the nurses to inject. And, it's 'tardive dyskinesia,'" said the doctor.

  Mike interjected himself into the discussion at this point.

  "OK, we've talked about a lot today. I want to start meeting with you beginning tomorrow. John, between now and tomorrow at, oh, one tomorrow afternoon, I want you to write down everything you're thinking for me. We're going to start discussing that and see where things make sense and where they don't. Part of my work with you involves helping you to adjust your thinking on certain topics. That way, if your thinking starts going wacky, we'll be able to see it happening earlier and start working on it sooner. Take this notebook and marker and write everything down for me," Mike said.

  "Homework, then," John stated, accepted the proffered notebook and felt-tip marker.

  "Yeah, if you want to call it that. It'll keep you occupied. I know that the time has to really drag for you, since you're used to being busy," said Mike, standing up. "I'll walk you back to your room."

  Back in his quiet hospital room, John paced. Returning to his table, he picked up the notebook and pen. As different thoughts occurred to him, he paused in his pacing and wrote them down. By the time he realized he was tired and needed a nap, he had filled a page and a half with notes and thoughts.

  Back home, Amos and Rachel changed to dry clothes, feeling hopeful for the first time in several days. Rachel started preparing supper, opting to make a thick, hearty chicken stew with dumplings, potatoes and vegetables. She looked up as she heard the ringer that Amos had set up to ring inside the home. She counted the rings, returning to her work when Amos picked up the phone in the barn on the third ring. She wondered if it was the hospital. If so, she wanted to know what had happened. Ten minutes later, Amos came in, chuckling to himself.

  "Husband, what is it? Why are you laughing?" Rachel asked.

  "You are not going to believe this, Rachel. John's new therapist met him today. His name is Mike -Mike something. He and John were talking for a while today, and John told him that he hates the hospital's food," Amos began.

  Rachel laughed. If Amos is laughing, then it can't be that bad.

  "What else did he say?"

  "He'll work with John while he's in the hospital and he'll continue to work with him once John is discharged home. He..." Again, Amos chuckled. "He wants to know if you would be able to cook a meal for John once a week, as long as he is working hard in the hospital. If he's not doing his work, we don't take him a home cooked meal; if he is, we'll take something to him."

  "Like a reward system. I don't like those, Amos. But, if it encourages John to work hard on what put him in the hospital, then, yes, I'll gladly make a meal for him every week," Rachel said.

  "Good. I will call Mike back tomorrow and let him know. He said he would call us every week, the day before we go to the hospital, letting us know how he's doing and progressing. He... also said that they expect John to have setbacks. That this will allow them to work more closely with John, adjusting his medications, making sure the doses are right," Amos said, reading from notes he had taken during the call.

  "What did John say about Rebecca Zook? Did this Mike say anything about this?"

  "John is trying to understand how he threatened her and the Zook family. He sees how he frightened her and said that he never wanted to hurt or threaten her or anyone else."

  At the end of that week, Rachel and Amos drove back to the hospital with an insulated food basket for John. The basket contained his fa
vorite chicken pot pie, vegetables, peach pie and mashed potatoes. In the hospital, they ate with John in his room, talking and catching up with him on his therapy.

  "Ya, I have been working with Mike every day. He helps me to understand just why things... why my thoughts... were wrong," John said. "He has made it clear to me that I have to let him know about everything I'm thinking -he gave me this notebook and felt pen so I can write everything down."

  By the end of the visit, Rachel felt much lighter in spirit. Amos was relieved, knowing that John was getting the help he so badly needed.

  Rebecca thought about the situation with John Beiler while she was living in Ephrata. She and her sister spent many long evenings after reading their Bibles, talking about how John had tried to take over her life.

  "Sister, we are supposed to be meek, but not allow others to run roughshod over our lives. Mamm and daed are going to pick you up at some point when it's safe. Whether John Beiler is there or not - is actually not important," said her sister.

  Rebecca's eyes widened as she heard the last statement.

  "But he tried to control my life! He has a mental illness!"

  "Yes. He does. But you are an individual in your own right, Rebecca. When you do go back to Peace Crossing, let him know that you won't be allowing him to push you around and control what you do. Mamm and daed raised all seven of us to be good, God-loving people. We know better, OK? If he's in the hospital as daed says, just settle back in and start teaching. If he's home and he tries to approach you, get someone's attention, then tell him, clearly and loudly that he will not be allowed to try and control what you do, where you go and who you see. You're a strong woman, but you really need to become stronger so he can't continue to restrict you."

  Rebecca nodded, seeing the wisdom of her older sister's words.